Phoebe -- A Description (public view)

LLEUAD

If you ask, I will tell you that my sword was spun from moonlight itself, carved under the light of a full moon in a grand magical ceremony. Silver moonbeams with night's blackness and the red gem to hold it bound together. And of course, though I might be able to conjure such a weapon should I truly try, I did not conjure my Lleuad.

I found Lleuad after leaving my service with the Tree. I had been traveling for a time, aiding those in need, and enjoying the passage given to a missionary of the Tree. The crystal about my neck identified me instantly to anyone, and I was given safe passage. I spent much time working with the healers of towns, employing my skills and magic. And after a while, I stopped in the city of Telwar for a time.

As I often did, I first sought out the primary physician of the city, a man named Canton who had started a hospital. Three other healers worked with him, and I planned to stay for a while and help in the early care of this hospital. And Canton was a friendly man, easygoing and somewhat relaxed and cheerful. He and his wife, Eleanor, became my friends within the first few weeks.

Canton and I began research into certain herbs and medications that he believed might aid during the summer illness. We worked late often, Eleanor bringing us supper, then usually leaving us while she returned home to their son and sleep. One evening as we worked in his laboratory, we heard a faint knock from the main door of the hospital. At first we discounted it, knowing that anyone who belonged at the hospital at this hour would simply walk in, and also knowing that Karel was downstairs, should there be a medical emergency. But then we heard him shout. "Phoebe! Canton! I need your help down here."

We both moved quickly downstairs, leaving our research as it was. Standing in the hallway was a young man in the livery of the lord, his hair long and unkempt, and his clothes old and barely clean. He was wringing his hands, and watching us with hopeful eyes as we ran down the stairs. His eyes appealed to Canton, "Sir, I beg your assistance. Mary's been hurt terrible and I think she might be dying."

The young man swiveled to look off to Karel's right, to where a girl of perhaps 16 years lay on the couch, covered in blood. There were no obvious wounds, but her clothes were matted to her body, and her face, hands and hair streaked with blood. Canton moved to Mary's side, while I stepped between the boy and her, blocking his view. His eyes fastened on the crystal about my neck. "Are you a priestess?" he asked hopefully.

I shook my head. "My name is Phoebe. And although I am an initiate of the tree, I am not a full priestess. But yes, I should be able to help." The boy relaxed visibly, and I maneuvered him out of the room into our waiting room. "May I ask what has happened? Knowing the situation will allow us to treat her more capably."

I finally realized what it was he held between his hands -- a mottled cap that he twisted until it was almost unrecognizable. "My name is Timothy, m'lady, and I am a stablehand for the laird." He nodded towards the manor house of the local lord, Daffyd by name from what I had learned. "The laird likes his ladies. He's not wed y'see, so he needs them often." His eyes pleaded with me to understand. "Mary's promised to me, and she's a good lass, but when the laird said she must, well, then she must."

I nodded slowly. It was a familiar story. "And the lord said she must."

"Aye, m'lady." His voice was hushed. "I heard her scream, m'lady, loud and often from her quarters. Then the door slammed as he left. When I went in, she lay on the bed, just as she is. I feared for her life, but I could feel her breath on my cheek when I lifted her so I knew she was alive." He cast his eyes downward. "Will she live, m'lady?"

I glanced over my shoulder to where Canton worked. He was shaking his head slowly, not even listening to our conversation. Then I turned a slow smile back to Timothy. "We'll do our best."

His relief was suddenly evident. "Thank you, m'lady."

"But it will take a while," I cautioned. "And you can help most by returning home and waiting until we call to say she is well."

"Yes, m'lady." He untwisted the cap and placed it back upon his head, bowing slightly as he left the room.

Once Timothy had left, I moved to Canton's side. "How does she fare?"

"Pray for her," was his short answer. And then, together, we worked. She was worse than I had first thought, with burns over parts of her body first obscured by her clothes. The matted hair had hidden a nasty wound at the side of her head, and she was covered in small, deep scratches. Rope burns marked her wrists and ankles. But we didn't find the worst until I told Canton the story Timothy had told me. And when we checked for signs of abuse we found burn marks where they had no business being. Should we save her, Mary would never bear a child.

We worked for two days over her, my magic combined with healing skill to try and stablize her. She woke once during that time, screaming horribly, terribly frightened. She didn't recognize us, seeing us as her lord instead, and trying desperately to run away. We had to hold her down, bound in cool, wet sheets as her fever consumed her. And finally she drifted away again.

It was on the third night, as I spooned broth over her lips that I heard her sigh softly. I laid a hand on her forehead, and she was cooler than before, and I began to smile. I stroked her cheek comfortingly, my hand dropping to bathe her lips with cool water from a cloth.

There was no breath. That tiny sigh had been her last.

"Canton!" He arrived within minutes of my yell, Eleanor beside him. "She's gone."

"I'll send someone to fetch the boy." Eleanor turned and left, and I knew we could count on her calm efficiency.

I stood, meaning to help Canton carry the body out of our examining room, but my knees buckled under me and I fell. I had not slept, except for dozing, since Mary had arrived on our doorstep. And now, it seemed, I had to sleep. With Mary gone, I could push my own body no further.

I was handed off to Karel, who ushered me to my rooms and made sure I slept. I hadn't the strength to argue.

I was told later that when Eleanor explained to Timothy, he had to be restrained before he hurried off to deal with the lord himself. We reminded him of the strict punishment to servants who even strike a lord. Still, that evening at dinner with Eleanor and Canton, I found myself defending the boy.

"He is right," I stated simply. "Daffyd deserves death if he kills for his pleasure."

Eleanor quickly masked an expression of horror. "You can't mean that, Phoebe. You're a healer."

"And he is a killer." It seemed obvious to me. This lord was worse than Edward had been. Edward had merely beaten me, and I don't think he ever intended to kill me. For that, I had not killed him in return. But according to Timothy's story, this was not the first time Daffyd had taken a maid's life.

Canton smoothly turned the conversation to another topic, but my mind remained on Daffyd, and on my growing plans to deal with the situation.

As lord of Telwar, Daffyd made certain, eventually, to check on the progress of our small hospital. When we were introduced, he smiled, an appreciative light in his eyes. I smiled broadly back, lowerin my lashes slightly, demure and innocent. With my youthful appearance, it is easy to disarm any man thinking me attractive. Simply stay quiet and shy, and it will always work.

Two days after his visit, and nearly a month after Mary's death, I received an invitation. The lord of Telwar cordially invited myself and my companions to attend a dinner at his home. He hoped fervently that we would grace him with our presence. I consulted with Canton and Eleanor, and neither would agree to accompany me. "I don't understand why you're going," Eleanor shook her head. "I thought you hated him."

I smiled. "I do." But I didn't explain. Instead, that evening I was careful to pack my clothes and settle everything into my single pack on my horse. It didn't appear that I was leaving, for whenever I rode I always took a small pack of supplies, and a sword strapped to the side of the horse. I was always ready for any mishap that might occurr, an aftereffect of my time with Robin and the highwaymen. Its true that I am not always ladylike, but I am alive.

I rode sidesaddle, one leg hooked gently over the saddlehorn, my skirts spread evenly across the horse's back. I had chosen my mount specifically because he did not shy away from skirts, nor mind being ridden bareback, which I also often did. When I arrived, I handed my horse to the stablehand to care for, and allowed myself to be ushered into the manor.

Daffyd stood off to the side, a traditional nobleman allowing each attendee to be presented to him as they arrived. When I walked foreward, eyes lowered to gaze where his knees were, lifting my lashes slowly to meet his eyes, he bent over my hand, kissing it gently. "M'lady. You are more beautiful when gowned as befits you."

"You do me honor, sir." My training came to me, allowing me to speak words instead of choking on them. In truth, Daffyd was a handsome man, slightly taller than average, and broadly built. He might even be attractive, were it not for the hardened look in his coal black eyes.

I spent the evening dancing with everyone, but most often with the lord. I chased his hands for several hours, not allowing him a single liberty, carefully maintaining a youthful modesty. And also keeping him from discovering the long, slender dagger strapped to my thigh.

Toward the end of the night, I allowed him to escort me out into the dark, on his terrace, away from prying eyes in the ballroom. I let him kiss me, but again, when his hands wandered, I pushed away, "M'lord."

There was barely restrained anger in his eyes, but a soft smile on his lips. "Phoebe. You taunt and test a man. Can you not expect him to take what you offer?"

I glanced around, shyly back at the door. "M'lord, you have guests. We should not tarry so long outside." I stressed the words "guests" and "outside" and then he began to truly smile.

"I understand." I watched as the smile turned to speculation. "Perhaps it is time for my guests to take themselves home."

"Perhaps," I nodded.

"But not yourself." He turned back to me, kissing me again. "You should stay a while longer."

I giggled, as all young maidens giggle. "As you wish, m'lord." He looked properly flattered, and we went back inside, for him to make his rounds with his guests. Soon enough, they were gone, and the servants circumspectly left the room to leave us alone.

He escorted me to the study, where I sat on the couch while he wooed me with talk of books and poetry. Every verse he read seemed perverse, containing some element of cruel pleasure, but I kept a sweet smile plastered on my face, leaning forward slightly to tease him more with glimpses. Then finally, he could take no more of my taunts, and he leapt at me, nearly smothering me with his kisses. It was harsh and unpleasant, and I found myself pinned before I had been able to react. His legs were heavy on mine, and I was unable to reach my dagger.

His hand, however, slid up the inside of my thigh, lifting my skirts, and then fastening about the dagger. He slid it from its sheath, then smiled. "You are a bright maiden, Phoebe, not to travel unprotected." He examined the dagger in the candlelight, the flicker of flame glinting off the silvery blade. "Or perhaps you had something else in mind." He gently laid the edge of the blade against my cheek, until I felt a thin rivulet of blood seep down and over my chin. Lifting the blade, his eyes fastened on my frightened ones, he used the tip to cut the ribbons holding my bodice together, then he ran the edge across the very top of my chest. This time he was not so gentle, and the sudden sharp pain of the slice made me react.

Pain removed all fear from my body, and with every ounce of strength I had I pushed him away from me. His eyes widened as he realized he no longer faced a frightened maiden but an enraged warrior. My gaze flickered around the room, darting desperately to find some weapon, since he now wielded my own dagger. I could use my hands, but it was messy and took time, and put me at risk from that blade. Slowly we circle, both wary of the other one. I could see some small measure of respect from him for my strength. "You wish to fight, wildcat?" he inquired mildly.

"Yes, I do." I dashed sideways, leaping just before I reached the wall. My hand closed around the hilt of a decorative sword held up by hooks over the fireplace, and when I landed, the long blade stretched towards my enemy. "And I will kill you."

The fight was short. He never understood that I was no true maiden until he rushed at me, and found himself impaled upon the sword. I had considered gutting him, then lowered the blade slightly to where he would suffer and bleed the most. As he fell, the light going out of his eyes quickly, I left, the sword still in my hands.

I pushed my way past the stablehands, grabbed the reins of my horse and jumped on his back. In my haste, I had automatically somehow grabbed the sheath for the sword on my way out the door, for I found it now in my way in my other hand. As I rode, I allowed the horse its head and used both hands to remove my old sword and fasten the new sheath and sword to my horse's side. Later I would make the strap longer to fasten it to my back.

I rode for two days before I dared find another village. I realized that the sword I carried was distinctive enough to mark me as Daffyd's murderer, and despite the justice in my deed, I could hang for it quite easily. The crystal I wore did not save me from all fates.

And as for the sword, I tested it one more time on a man who sought to rape me and take my goods on the road. The sword cut cleanly, and easily, and seemed a good edge. As the sword was black and silver, with a red stone at the hilt, I kept it. It matched my own preferred colors. I named it Lleuad, for the moon, and for a time claimed to have crafted it myself. And, in general, it has served me well.

Chapter Nine, Brand's Amber

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