The Eynan Page 3
Even though I have no right to judge you for your past--what? Betrayal, or is that too harsh?--indiscretion, I can't forgive what it has cost me either. I tell you what little I do more for the peace of mind of the others than for your own. I will have no peace and I can't find it in my heart to think you should either.
I am going away, though where I don't know for certain, nor would I tell you if I did. I have a plan, vague to be sure, but it's a beginning.
You, of all people, know of my interest, and I know share some of my belief, in the history of the magi. I have decided to devote myself to try to track down the truth behind some of these legends. If ever we needed to know how much is truth, how much we can still tap into, now is that time. The Illurian Empire is growing in leaps and bounds, and the threat grows nearer year by year. Our people keep dismissing it as far away across the great sea. No real threat. But that isn't true.
The legends run deep in our family, and I am not one to believe such stories are just that, stories. There is truth to all legends, though how deep a truth I know not. But I seek to find out.
I will not lose complete contact, Father. For if what I learn is of benefit to our people, I will contact you again.
Until such time, goodbye. I will try not to forget the good that once lay between us.
Jhond
Girau re-read the letter with mixed emotions. Surprise at his son's plan, with understanding now what books he might have taken. Unmitigated relief that even in his distress Jhond had kept his wits about him. Ever the thinker. On a more personal level, he felt some relief his son hadn't been more condemning, though on the second reading, he realized just how much of a burden Jhond had left to him. But, he admitted, it was no more than he deserved. He had no idea what he would tell Narissa or the rest of the family. The truth? If not, what else could he say? Were not lies too costly? He knew the answer to that, but still the question hung like a stone around his neck. Only one stone, though more than enough to sink him.
What of Gallia? What would she say? Would she tell the man who believed he was her father, the Duke Vikor? Would she tell Jhond's mother? He needed to pluck up the courage to speak to...his daughter...to Gallia. To give her Jhond's letter. He needed to know what her intentions were before he could settle on his own. He was being cowardly again--he realized that--but he had so much to lose. If it wasn't lost already.
* * * *
Gallia rose early from her sanctuary in Duke's Folly and slipped into the residence by the servants' entrance. They'd all been too busy preparing breakfast and carrying out all the other duties required for the rising family and the many retainers who lived in. Those who knew her of old just gave her a small smile and a nod, while the others who only knew her for her position in society gave her a quick curtsy and kept their curiosity to themselves. Gallia quickly took the backstairs and made her way up the nursery floor. She knew Marianna would have been up and about for some time already and headed for the dining room on the nursery floor.
"Marianna," she said breathlessly, as she closed the door behind her.
"My Lady, Gallia, my sweet," Marianna said with her usual cheery smile, "it's been ages since I saw you." She dropped the pile of napkins she was holding and hurried over to take Gallia in her arms and hug her tightly. She then pulled back with a smile, which slowly faded as she registered the expression on Gallia's face. "Why, my dear, whatever's the matter?"
"I never could keep a secret from you, could I?" Gallia said, with a catch in her voice. "Not that the same can be said of you, however."
Chapter 4
Marianna frowned and asked, "Whatever do you mean? What has happened?"
"We need to talk. Privately, quietly, and it may take a little while."
Whatever one said about Marianna, one couldn't fault her common sense or her intuition. She turned to open the adjoining room door and called, "Luisa, I'll be busy for a while this morning. Will you please see to the children's breakfast and take them for their morning constitutional if I've not returned."
"Yes, ma'am," called a disembodied voice from beyond the door.
"Come. We'll go to my room. We'll not be disturbed there." Without hesitation, Marianna led the way from the dining room along the corridor toward her quarters.
As a young child, Gallia had loved to play in this corridor with its appearance of mystery as the high windows painted the floor and opposite walls with washes of eerie light that only seemed to enhance the dark patches in between. As she walked along it now, she wondered what real mysteries this corridor or others like it in this huge house had witnessed.
Marianna showed Gallia into the room, which had been a refuge when she was a young child, especially during the time just after her mother had died and she'd been so lonely. Duke Vikor never seemed to have time for her and her mother had been her whole world, her siblings being so much older than she. Marianna had been like a rock in white water for her then. That is, until she had been sent away to live with the Reeve family.
When it had first been proposed, she'd been upset and afraid. She knew the Reeve children, of course, though only Jhond had been anything like her age, he being only two years older. Jhond had become like a lifeline to her in those early times. She'd never realized just how far into her heart he'd crept and how much more than just a friend he would eventually become. Now, as she remembered those early days and what she had lost, the loneliness of her childhood welled up until she felt it would swallow her whole.
Marianna broke into her reverie. "Sit down, child, and tell me whatever has upset you so."
Gallia sat stiffly in one of the comfortable chairs by the window and slowly raised her head to look at her old nurse. "Jhond asked me to be his wife yesterday." Gallia watched as Marianna's face paled, but she didn't say anything at first.
"I...I hadn't realized he felt about you in that way," Marianna said slowly. "How did... What did you say to that? Whatever would your father say?"
"My father? Well, actually the duke was delighted." Gallia gave a laugh, brittle and hollow. "But what do you suppose Jhond's father said when he was told the happy news?"
Marianna opened her mouth, then snapped her lips together. She rose from her chair and walked to stare out the window. Gallia watched and she was certain now that Marianna did know. "Well, Marianna, what do you suppose he said?"
Marianna turned back to look at Gallia. "He told you, didn't he?" she asked in a remarkably controlled voice.
"No, he told Jhond. Well, he had to, didn't he? There was his beloved son pouring out his happy news that he'd proposed marriage to the woman he loved and who loved him. Not only had she said yes, but so had her distinguished father, Duke Vikor of Talchel. Jhond had never been so happy, until that very instant when his father told him he couldn't--not ever--be with the woman he loved. His own father broke his heart, then Jhond had to go and break her heart. The heart of his beloved. My heart."
When she had gone to see Marianna, Gallia hadn't meant to take out her hurt on the old woman, but all the pain just came pouring out. Tears ran down Gallia's face and, without realizing it, she sought out the arms of her old nurse, just as she had done as a child when she needed comfort. Marianna pulled her close to her ample bosom, rocking her back and forth and cooing soothing words as she cried her heart out.
Gallia's sobs were slowing now; she was regaining control of herself. After a little while, she moved carefully out of Marianna's arms and went back to her chair. She sat quietly, trying to calm herself before she asked, "Just how much do you know, Marianna?"
The old nurse squared her shoulders and replied, "I suppose I know everything. Everything important anyway. I'm sorry, my dear. I had no idea about you and Jhond, I mean. If I had..."
"If you had...what, Marianna? Do you think you could've changed anything? This wasn't something we planned, you know. It came as much of a surprise to us as anyone else. Oh, Marianna, I love him so much. He feels the same for me; I know he does. We were so very happy, at least fo
r a fleeting moment. And now... Tell me what happened. I know it won't change anything, but I need at least to understand what happened."
"Understand? I'm not too sure how easy that really will be. I suppose you know that your parents...that the duke and duchess had an arranged marriage, like most of the nobility. Like Girau and Narissa, too. Except that perhaps they were lucky because Girau and Narissa did come to care very much for each other.
"Your mother wasn't so lucky, I'm afraid. Not that the duke was a bad husband. He wasn't. He cared for her in his own way, but as I imagine you know, Duke Vikor isn't the most demonstrative of men, and also he was quite a bit older than your mother.
"Anyway, they had a fairly settled family life, two children came along, and they were reasonably happy. Girau and Narissa were pretty regular visitors and they all seemed to get on really well. Then one summer, the Lady Narissa was unwell, and your mother being the kind and caring lady she was visited frequently over a few weeks. I never knew the exact details, but from what your mother did tell me, she got to know Lord Girau on a more personal level over those weeks. They never meant for it to happen, but they fell madly in love. Girau told her he'd thought he was in love with his wife, but though he did care for Lady Narissa, it wasn't the same unreasoning passion he felt for Lady Edys."
The nanny shook her head, her expression of sadness clear to Gallia.
"I remember that so well. No one had ever spoken to your mother in such a way before, and she was swept away by a passion she had never known. When she discovered she was with child, at first she was horrified, as was Girau, who was wracked with guilt at what he'd done. He begged your mother's forgiveness and prayed his wife and family would never find out. He said he did not regret the love they shared--he claimed to still feel the same--but said it was too high a price to pay for his family. Your mother told him not to worry.
"Lady Edys had no regrets, not for his love or hers and not for the child she was carrying. She would keep their secret believing she could persuade Duke Vikor the child was his. She would love the child like no other; no other child of hers had been conceived in such love. Those few weeks were all they had, and My Lady, that memory and you sustained her for the few years she was to have left.
"Whatever you think of your father--your real father--remember this: you were brought into this world with love."
"Yes, but their love has now destroyed mine. Whatever possessed my father to take me in?" she asked bitterly.
"And why wouldn't he? Do you think he didn't love you, too? He could never claim you; you were always someone else's child. I know, for we discussed this at the time. He was very happy when Lady Narissa readily agreed to Duke Vikor's request that they take you into their household. After your mother died, Lord Girau had been worried for you. He knew, of course, that your 'father' was rather distant to you and for a period he wondered if it was because he had found out, but Edys had reassured him it wasn't so. It was just Duke Vikor's way. But after Lady Edys was gone, Lord Girau felt for you. So the idea he could look after you and bring you up with his own family was a miracle to him. Try to forgive him. He only meant the best for you."
* * * *
Marianna's words were still running round in Gallia's head as she moved through the house. She'd learned a lot, so much of her past she'd never known, could never have imagined. Too much to take in all at once. What had Marianna said? Try to forgive him. He only meant the best. Well, whatever he meant, it hadn't worked out for the best in the end, had it?
Now she had to face her "father." She didn't know exactly what she could say, other than to tell him she would not be wife to Jhond after all. How could she possibly explain it away? Lords of Light, why should she have to? Even now she couldn't believe it was wrong to love Jhond. She certainly couldn't stop loving him just because she had been told it was wrong. She didn't believe there would ever come a time when she wouldn't love him. But what was the use of thinking like that? She had to be practical, she had to get on with life and the first problem to overcome was how to tell the duke. She also had the problem of where to live. It would be impossible now for her to stay with the Reeves.
Oh, Lords, one thing at a time. First, she must see the duke. She squared her shoulders and headed for his apartments. She turned the corner, which would bring her back to the main part of the house and strode purposefully toward the great hall and the main staircase. Instead, she had found herself faced with Lord Girau--her father!
She was frozen with shock. Before she realized it, he had pulled her into one of the anterooms. As soon as they were inside the door, he closed it quickly, though not as quickly as Gallia pulled herself from his grasp.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but I wanted to speak to you before you saw your fath-- the duke. What you do next is entirely up to you, of course, but I felt you should know first that neither the duke nor Lady Narissa know the truth. Before you come to your decision, think."
"If you expect me to keep your secret to protect you, think again. The last consideration I have just now is your sensibilities. You've ruined everything and I will never forgive you." Putting her feelings in words, words she hadn't even known she was going to say, crystallized her feelings. The anger, the loss she felt outweighed any understanding she may have felt for Girau. She could never forgive him.
"Please, I'm not asking you on my behalf. I know I've no right to ask anything of you. I've already lost my son and my daughter... Gallia," he said the word with a gentle humility "you were never mine to lose. I think now of the man who has only ever known himself to be your father, and the woman who has always believed I was true to her. I've caused enough pain already and, if I may, I ask you to think carefully before even more pain is created on my behalf."
She looked at him, still unsure if he was really thinking of himself, protecting his reputation, or if he really did feel for the others. "I cannot say more than I'll think on it." She turned toward the door, not looking back.
"Gallia!" Girau tried to call her back, but she kept walking. As her hand reached to turn the knob, she suddenly said, unbidden, "How is...he this morning?"
"I...I don't know really." He didn't pretend not to know of whom she spoke.
"You can't face him, uh?" she said bitterly. She couldn't bear to look at him and kept her face to the door, her back to him.
"I tried. But he was...gone." The pain was raw in his voice.
"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. For what did he have to stay?
"He packed a small bag, took a mount and departed. He left me a letter," he added gingerly.
At that, she turned. "A letter." She hesitated, scared to ask, finally looking up at him to find Girau had moved nearer while her back was turned. "Did he leave me anything?" she breathed.
"Yes, he left an envelope for you, too. Perhaps he expected you would read his words to me, too. You can if you wish," he said, reaching into his inside pocket and bringing out a roughly folded missive and another envelope. Cautiously, he held them out toward her.
She stared at them, as if afraid to touch them. Slowly, she reached out and took them. Her hand shook. She turned away and stumbled to a nearby window. She held them both for a minute before finally opening and reading Girau's letter.
* * * *
Girau stood stock-still and watched. He wanted to turn away and leave her to her privacy, but found he was spellbound. She was standing in profile to him, probably totally unaware he was even still there. He saw as the various emotions played across her face. Next, she opened her envelope and read it quickly; it couldn't have been more than a few lines. Girau saw as a tear rolled down the side of her cheek. She ignored it and she lowered the letter and stared out of the window. Just when he thought he ought to leave, she spoke again.
"Here, take your letter." Her voice dripped ice. "I appreciate the sentiments Jhond...feels on my behalf where you are concerned, and I could wish our paths didn't have to cross again."
He should have expected that, but it still hurt even more than he would have thought.
"I have decided not to tell my-- the duke, the truth. Your wife is your affair. But I will agree to keep the secret if that is your wish, not for your sake, but for theirs." She turned her back on him and looked out the window again. "I will explain my...split from Jhond to my family and I will then remain here. Good-day, My Lord."
Girau's heart contracted at the scorn in her voice, but he simply nodded and turned away.
* * * *
The tears ran more freely now as she read Jhond's letter once again. As she perused his words, she imagined him standing there, and her heart broke at the realization she would probably never see him again. Not to see that strong tall figure striding toward her, his bright blond hair flopping over his eyes as it invariably did. Those unusual piercing eyes of his that one instant looked the bright blue of cornflowers, or if the shadow hit him just so, would take on that odd flash of violet, reminding her of the tradition to give violets to your beloved as a betrothal flower. She would never now receive flowers from him to remind her of the love in his eyes. Tears ran slow and heavy as she read.
My love,
This is the last time I will be able to call you that, but know in my heart it will always be so. I have to go because the world will not let you be mine, and I can't stay near you and not love you.
Yours, always,
Jhond
Chapter 5
Jhond didn't know who felt more tired, he or his horse. The poor animal didn't seem to be able to competently put one leg in front of the other. He had taken the mount from his father's stables very early that morning and had just kept riding, as if somehow constant travel could take him away from his problems. He should've known better; he'd merely taken them along for the ride.