With a long, low creak, the doors to the Great Hall of Raven’s Rock were opened and the procession began to enter with hushed excitement. As Raghnall entered the room, people had begun to congregate. For a moment Raghnall felt he was in unnervingly familiar societal territory. The room slowly filled and an unspoken social order played itself out upon the vast chequerboard floor.
The hall was more brightly lit than when Raghnall was here last. Candles had been lit around the balcony along with fresh candles in the chandelier and the great fire roared. The dining table had been removed and its chairs now lined the circumference of the wall, supporting some of the more portly gentlemen, tired from their walk. Faolan was already away, straining to lessen his hunched gait and flattening his hair.
Raghnall began to walk the floor. Already, people were eyeing him wondering who this stranger was. Suddenly, a waving hand was thrust into Raghnall’s line of sight, he followed its heavy gold rings, white frilled cuff and black silk sleeve to its owner’s chubby red face.
“Angus Theobold, Lord of Palisane.” The man sweat as he spoke, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. “And this is my wife, Lady Salga” she curtseyed slightly as Raghnall nodded.
“Raghnall, a Geographer of the court of Capia, my Lord.”
“Capia? Yes, I think I know that region.” Theobold blurted these words seemingly out of habit, neither knowing nor caring if they were true. His curiosity sated, he was already looking over Raghnall’s shoulder for his next introduction. He moved on, his wife tugged along behind with an apologetic smile.
“Are you free of your escort?” Raghnall turned to see Aaralyn smiling, quite still. A friendly face in the bustle of the room.
“Rather, I think he is free of me!” Raghnall nodded across the hall to Faolan as the gaunt man approached a young girl. She was dressed in smartened kitchen attire, frozen as Faolan stooped low like a green spider to kiss her hand. Aaralyn laughed piteously. Raghnall wanted to ask Aaralyn how she was, particularly after that funeral, but thought better of it.Sensing Raghnall’s hesitance, she clicked her fingers as an idea came to her.
“Come, let us get a better vantage.” Taking him by the hand, she led across the floor, through the crowd to a small door veiled by a curtain. She led on up a narrow spiral staircase and they emerged onto the musician’s gallery. The musicians were sitting out of sight, huddled around a game of dice. They went to rise as Aaralyn emerged, but she waved a hand for them to continue as she and Raghnall tip-toed amongst their instruments to find a convenient spot.
The two of them leaned upon the balustrade and Aaralyn placed a finger to her lips as she looked about the room deep in thought. Raghnall peered down at the series of human whirlpools that had formed below. Within each, the rounds of introductions were being made and social butterflies fluttered between notable people and particular groups. Here and there servants carrying trays defied the currents to offer refreshments.
On the far side of the room, the house staff had huddled. Despite the official purpose of the ball and their smartened attire, they did not stay far and talked quietly amongst themselves. Eldridge suddenly looked up from the group and waved with a tipsy enthusiasm at Aaralyn.
“It heartens me to see Eldridge indulging in wine and company.” she smiled, waving back “He is a dutiful old soul, but he can be a little too diligent for his own good. I have barely seen him this past week.”
“Indeed, how have you been these past few days? I have not once seen you about the castle.” Raghnall seized the opportunity to ask.
“Naturally I have been engaged with my duties as hostess” She grimaced slightly, deliberately not allowing him to believe her. Raghnall followed her lead.
“I could not help but wonder why I was escorted to the chapel by Lord Malaegar’s trusted aide. In these busy times, the lady housekeeper could have done so without bothering such senior staff.”
“He is a loathsome man.” The two of them looked to Faolan as he awkwardly dragged the poor kitchen girl around in a dance which followed no obvious steps and was accompanied by no music. “It seems that someone was watching us after all.”
“In your garden?”
“From what I could glean from Malaegar’s shouting, no. But we were noticed to be absent from view for long enough. It takes little else for the suspicious or devious to imagine all manner of misdeeds.”
“The suspicious?” Raghnall frowned.
“Yes. I fear that my brother has some pasty suitor lined up for me. Talks of ‘joy and life to eclipse recent death’. I think he fears that you and I may be getting too close.” The two of them laughed.
“At the very least he is thinking of the future and making plans. Perhaps he is finally finding his way from being the heir to a Lord?” Raghnall reflected that Eldridge might have a point. The fortunes of the people of this province relied upon the ease with which Malaegar took to his role as steward, and this would surely be aided by Aaralyn being reassured? He thought.
“Who are they?” Changing the subject, Raghnall pointed to the five robed figures he had observed arriving this morning. They were huddled by the door, their deep green hoods covered their faces but it was clear that they were engaged in agitated conversation.
“Oh. Those are Druaine ar Shae. Priests and priestesses of Shae.” Aaralyn explained in a hushed tone. “They are a holy order from the forest who worship at the altar of the natural world.” She clasped her hands. “My father was a member of their flock, and a generous patron.” Raghnall nodded, stroking his beard.
“I know little of local beliefs and customs. Capians worship at the altar of the Old Father and his children. A similar pantheon is found throughout much of the realm.” Aaralyn nodded. Raghnall clasped his hands. “Therefore, I was wondering if you can tell me whether today’s ritual is typical of a funeral for your people?”
Just then one of the druaine made a beeline for the centre of the room where Malaegar was surrounded by well-wishers. He lowered his hood as he strode, revealing a shaved head and grey beard. Malaegar was now wearing a suit of the deepest purple, his hair combed back into a pony-tail, tied with ribbon and he raised a hand to greet the holy man whose companions had shuffled after him.
“Greetings Archdruaine Treebark. It is always a pleasure to receive you at Ravensholme.” Malaegar bowed low.
“Trethic” the Archdruaine corrected him with a frown. “Well met, my son.” The Archadruaine reached out to bless Malaegar’s head, but was denied as he suddenly stood bolt upright. There was a gasp from the crowd.
“Would you like a drink?” Malaegar enquired raising his glass.
“No thank you, we do not partake of the fermented fruits of men” Trethic gestured to his followers “as you well know, my young Lord.” Malaegar nodded thoughtfully.
“Well, I must thank you for attending. My father would have been most grateful for your presence at his funeral.”
“Funeral?” The Archdruaine stood to his full height, his voice booming. “Is that what you call the spectacle that we all just witnessed?”
“And so the debt comes due.” Malaegar whispered with a sigh. One of the druaine leaned to step forward and calm the air but thought better of intervening.
“You obscured the sacred icon and turned our holy sanctum into a playhouse for your own aggrandizement!” Trethic waved his hands in the air. “Your father’s body was little more than a prop! You did not even mention Lord Karmen by name, boy!” The holy man’s face was red with righteous anger, his eyes like lightning. Malaegar chuckled.
“Your holy place?” he wagged a finger in Trethic’s face. “This is Ravensholme and that chapel was built by my ancestors, folk of the Old North who founded Ravensholme on this very spot ‘where their ravens roosted on the rock’”. Malaegar pointed to the floor at his feet. “I am the legitimate heir of their labours.” He wafted his hand dismissively “Not hangers on and so-called holy men”. There was another gasp and looks of excitement and concern spread like electricity through the hall. Trethic blinked in astonishment, searching for words.
“Your father…”
“My father, yes? My father what? Hmm?” He turned an ear to the Archdruain mockingly. “My father was a war hero, he saved the realm from tyranny; a true man of the Old North, like me. But you? You had him praying to the trees and the squirrels. He sought your council and of course contributed generously into your coffers.” Malaegar took a moment to notice the enthralled crowd. “But the waters still rose and drowned our province, displacing my poor people.”
There was a cheer from somewhere in the hall. Trethic glared and adjusted his robes.
“The winds and waters of fate are not ours to control.”
“Then what good are you?” Malaegar sneered. “Save to prosper from death and sorrow?” The Archdruaine shook his head, raising a hand in protest but Malaegar continued. “We are having trouble locating my father’s last will and testament, if that’s why you are here, sir? But I am happy to lend your order of druaine a few flooded farms in the meantime if that will suffice as tribute, Archdruaine?” He looked Trethic dead in the eyes. “Well it has been a pleasure, Treebark.” The old man was visibly stunned as applause began to ripple around the hall. Trethic’s acolytes led him away as more cheers erupted. Malaegar grinned, blowing kisses into the air.
Aaralyn was shaken from her astonishment when she saw her brother tip-toeing and swaying in an effort to spy her in amongst the excited crowd. He looked up to the balcony, just as she dove back from the railing, pulling Raghnall down with her. They narrowly missed a cello in its stand and landed in a heap near the gambling musicians.
“I think that answers your question!” Aaralyn burst into laughter as Raghnall sat up, shaking his head in surprise. “But now we should return to the floor.”
They crouched amongst the instruments, making their way back to the door, standing only when they were upon the top step and descending out of view of the people below.
“That was certainly dramatic.” Raghnall raised his eyebrows and puffed his cheeks.
“Truthfully, I have had my own doubts about the druaine.” Aaralyn frowned “they rarely visited my father since his decline and they were not here for his passing many weeks ago.”
“So your brother has just cause to rebuke the druaine?”
“Aye, I would say so.” Aaralyn agreed.
“And he invoked the struggles of the people. His people.” Raghnall added hopefully.
“He did. Did he not?” Aaralyn smiled as she recalled her brother’s words.
“You seem happier than you were in the chapel?” Raghnall asked carefully.
“I am done with my mourning.” Aaralyn stopped for a moment. “This event is, as my brother suggested, a formality.” Aaralyn smiled wryly back at Raghnall over her shoulder. “If I am honest, I agree. Our guests have primarily come to meet the new Lord of Ravensholme, not to remember our father.” She nodded towards her brother “and he has certainly ensured that they have been entertained.” Raghnall made no comment, but could not help but agree after the theatrics and drama of the day. This thought led to the next.
“What will become of your father’s remains?” He paused, seeking the right words “following that… exit”.
“Oh, after he was lowered?” They resumed their descent. “I understand that my brother had been planning that for weeks.” She shook her head in disbelief. “The Ravensholme family crypt is indeed beneath the chapel. My father is no-doubt laid low there as we speak. It is a simple resting place. It reflects the belief of my family that we are all equal in death and whatever we accrue and are in life is due to nature’s bounty. Indeed, this very castle is made from the rock of the mountain on which it stands. So too our bodies must return to the earth.” She nodded solemnly.
“It would seem that nature has not been kind to your people, despite their beliefs.” Raghnall found himself agreeing even more with Malaegar’s chiding of Trethic.
“No. It seems, for better or worse, we must rely upon Malaegar to lead us though these trying times.”They emerged back into the bustle of the hall.
“Ah, there you are Raghnall of Capia!” Malaegar called out amongst the chatter of the room, waving for their attention. Upon his other arm was a young lady with curly blonde hair, in a frilly raspberry coloured dress with white fox fur draped about her shoulders. “Here he is! Here is the poor soul whom I rescued from the wilds.” He pointed at Raghnall “with my sister, no less.”
The girl on his arm was like a doll. Her face was caked in white make up and upon her left cheek she had a heart-shaped beauty spot.
“May I introduce Petunia Druridge of Norddwick?”
“T’is a pleasure.” Raghnall bowed his head. Petunia outstretched a white-gloved hand, which Raghnall obliged with a kiss to the squeaky giggling delight of its owner. Malaegar’s face deadened for a moment.
“Raghnall is a map maker in the service of his court at Capia.” Malaegar continued.
“Geographer, my Lord.” Raghnall raised a finger emphasising that there was an important difference. Malaegar hummed and nodded in vague agreement.
“Might I ask, where is my man, Faolan? I trust he escorted you safely to the chapel?” Malaegar looked about the room with some irritation.
“He did my Lord and I believe he is over there.” Raghnall pointed across the hall to Faolan and the kitchen girl awkwardly circling each other in a dance without music. Malaegar huffed.
“Come let us all dance.” Aaralyn looked to her brother with a look that only a sister can muster: at once suggesting, pleading and insisting. Malaegar’s face softened.
“Excellent idea, sister.” he clapped twice and the room fell silent. There was a fumbling from the galleries as the musicians took up their instruments.
“Something Allegro!” Malaegar shouted and the music began. It was a jolly tune ‘The bee and the butterfly’, easy to dance to. Malaegar smiled and went to take Aaralyn by the hand; however, Petunia was away with him in a flurry of raspberry and curls. Aaralyn laughed and clapped and the sight of her brother caught by surprise. Raghnall offered his hand in turn and with them the rest of the room followed suit in a merry dance.
The evening passed predictably enough with conversation, dance and wine. Eventually, the candlelight dimmed and people began to make their excuses, departing to rest their sore feet in their chambers. Malaegar and his new companion took up a place by the great door and graciously received thanks for a wonderful evening. Naturally, the servants began to clean up and tidy the great hall. Aaralyn and Raghnall were amongst the last to parade past the new Lord.
“I think that went rather well” declared Malaegar, clapping and rubbing his hands together. Petunia seemed rather tired from dancing and bored. She smiled vacantly.
“Quite.” Aaralyn yawned in answer. “It was a triumph, dear brother.” Malaegar’s eyes brightened.
“I would like to think that all the tiresome planning has been worth it.” Malaegar fished for more praise.
“It was certainly a night to remember.” Raghnall added.
Petunia yawned with a squeak.
“I think we should escort these fair ladies to their chambers” Malaegar smiled warmly. Raghnall agreed and set off with Aaralyn’s arm resting in his.
Aaralyn guided Raghnall through the castle to the green gallery at the foot of a tower and in turn, Aaralyn’s chambers. It was a still night and a cool breeze drifted in through open windows rippling the rich green curtains, ushering the lady to her chamber atop the stairs beyond.
“Perhaps you are right?” Aaralyn stretched her arms and yawned again “Perhaps my brother has crossed a threshold?”
“Never underestimate the reassurance that the love of family and the company of a delightful young lady might bring to a young man.” Raghnall was glad to see her at ease. “You are a true friend, Raghnall.”
“Thank you, my Lady.” Raghnall bowed in exaggerated and ridiculous fashion. Aaralyn laughed.
“I am expressing my gratitude and you mock me?” she attempted to stay po-faced, but broke into a bleary-eyed grin. “Truly, you remind me of my father. You would have liked him, I think.”
“I am sure. What’s more I would be lucky to have a daughter such as you.” Raghnall kissed her hand, wished her a good night’s sleep and departed, slightly unsteadily, for his own bed.
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