Kaleidoscope: 4
Southern England, 1555
Left right, left right.
Ash paced impatiently up and down the hallway outside his master's bedroom, uncaring if the rich velvet carpet was folding under his marching feet. Barely back at the Aylesbury manor three days and his master had called him to his chambers to discuss something in a received letter. Three days since their return from the Waterflower-Boddington manor…
Ash felt sick to his stomach again and a wave of piercing guilt hit him between the eyes as he recollected his last moments there.
[::==START FLASHBACK==::]
As he threw the saddle over the young steed's back and gently patted its stomach, Ash became aware of a presence behind him. Whirling cautiously around, he was only confronted with his long shadow cast over the stable wall by the moonlight. He returned to his work. He had to get all the horses saddled and bridled up - the master and mistress wished to leave at once. In fact, Duchess Emilia was in Lady Rose's boudoir at that moment, trying to persuade her cousin to leave Sir Thomas and return with them.
He could sense the presence behind him again, and turned around quickly, coming face to face with a pair of scrutinising brandy eyes, framed by a scruffy fringe.
"Miss Violet," he muttered, jerkily and absentmindedly bowing. "What are you doing out here at this time of night?" Before he had a chance to continue, the seemingly petite and weak girl grabbed his shirt with surprising strength and gritted her teeth.
"How can you even think of leaving her?" she whispered harshly, her grip tightening on his collar. "It's your fault she's in there!"
"Hold on, it is no fault of mine that you've got a damned dictator for a stepfather!" retorted Ash angrily, tears pricking the back of his eyes at the accusing sixteen year old. Violet ignored the unholy language and looked at him, the confusion in her eyes mingling with the sadness and guilt in his dark brown ones. Her grip loosened.
"Di-didn't you make her…" Violet bit her lip, knowing it was unholy to talk of such things, especially to a person of Ash's standard. "…unpure?" Ash exploded into laughter, quickly subsiding when Violet glared at him - showing her resemblance to her older sister well.
"Hell- um, sorry, no! Whatever gave you that idea?" Violet let go, tears slivering down her face, pale and silver in the moonlight.
"My-my nurse Dame Tatham says that if you-" Her cheeks coloured again. "-perform such acts out of wedlock, you are no longer pure and holy and the Lord will not protect you…and He, in His infinite wisdom, did not see fit to protect my sister today…" The tears fell faster. "And she spent all day in the orchard with you…so I thought…" Ash shook his head, lost for words. Violet's face relented, then clouded over angrily again
"But you are still leaving - this is when she needs her friends and kinsmen the most."
"I'm sorry - dear God you have no idea how sorry I am - but in duty I am tied to your uncle, and I must go where he goes. I go where he tells me, I eat what he tells me, I wear what he tells me…" Ash's voice lowered as he adjusted the final saddle, on a sleepy looking horse, trying hard to control the level of emotion in his words. "I have to go." He looked down at Violet's widening eyes, brimming with tears, as her clenched fists by her cheekbones shook with a mixture of grief and disbelief
"I understand." Ash had to look away. Her anguished whisper sounded so much like her elder sister. Violet turned on her slight heel and raised her hand to the stable door. "I am not a man," she murmured, not turning around. "I am not a mother, yet I am not a child. I am nobody in this world, yet I will not leave my sister to die. And if she will not comply and marry that man, death will be her only option.
Without a further comment, Violet turned and ran down the path to the main house; her fabricated, gloved shoes slapping against the hard path, and her caramel coloured overdress flowing behind her. Ash was left alone as it started to rain.
It came down in sheets, torrents of stinging water falling from the heavens, as if they were angry at the chain of events. Ash let his head dangle backwards, the rain hitting him like a thousand tiny hands slapping him angrily. The angry purple rain-clouds rolled relentlessly over the valley and the only spot where you could still see the stars in the navy band of sky was positioned above the gatehouse. A tiny peep hole to another world.
[::==END FLASHBACK==::]
Sighing dejectedly, Ash leant against the large bay windows in the hallway as he continued to wait. It was only late afternoon, but the outside world was dark and cold. It hadn't stopped raining since that night. Duchess Emilia bustled motherly around the castle, draping her expensive fur coats and stoles around the servants as they worked, ensuring the fires were stoked and blazing merrily. She was a kind woman; an old acquaintance of his mother Lady Delia - and his second mother in heart.
The large gilded door slowly creaked open, and the Duke squinted out from the smoky room.
"Ashton? Ash, my boy, are you still there?" Ash moved away from the window and into full view. He shivered with excitement, momentarily forgetting the girl he'd left stranded alone in her despair at his childish glee at being treated grown up and mature. "Ah there you are boy - come in, come in - don't be shy."
~*~
Ash's dark eyes widened in horror as he read and re-read the letter…
Rioters? In civilised England? They were all perfectly happy under the rule of King Lance and his queen, Karen… He ruled fairly and justly, but it seemed his distant Italian cousin had landed off the coast of Fuschiaster and had spies in many households. Random words flew from the paper. Alert. Army. Battle.
Silently, Duke Albert plucked the paper from the youth's shaking hands, as the other men in the room looked on worriedly. Ash looked up, panicked.
"Does this mean-"
"It means we are at war. For king and country. The message gives further instructions to prepare our households for battle," Albert interrupted gravely. "As you are yet young, I asked that you may be left out for a few months, but as you are my squire, you must follow me to battle. I am not going to hide the dangers that lay ahead of us. All I can say is that you are a brave and spirited lad, and I'm sure you will continue to make me proud." Ash's eyes filled with yet more tears as the men in the room throatily agreed.
Duke Albert cleared his throat to speak again.
"Ash, you have a week until we depart for Indigo Palace in London. I release you from my service for this time period. Use it wisely."
~*~
An hour later, Ash bundled all his bags hastily onto the loaned horse's back and urged it forwards, ignoring the wind and rain as he urged and encouraged the stubborn animal onwards over fields and into the valley of Risborough. As the sky began to turn pink, he knew he had entered Risborough when he saw the dark shape of the manor house in the distance.
~*~
Misty paced around and around the tiny room, stamping her feet so hard they ached, hoping to deter any rodent who had its mind set on leaping out from the dark corners. Broken spirited, Misty threw herself down on the wooden plank bed, ignoring it's protesting creak under her weight. Misty's whole body ached - across the room sat the plate of stale bread crusts and the glass of well water - all Sir Thomas allowed them to give her. Lily had tried to sneak her through some apples from the orchard, but was caught by Sir Thomas, who had beaten her soundly.
"Misty?" came a voice She blinked. Violet?
"Misty?" A different voice called. Less familiar than that of her sister’s, yet more so.
"Sister? A-ash?" she asked haltingly. Suddenly, rough brown cloth, like the side of a sack came through the bars of the window, bundled around various items. Ash's voice came again.
"Young lady," he called in a mock irritable way. "I have a mere week to get you out of here and to safety, so will you make haste?" Misty giggled as she unwrapped the bundle eagerly, like it was a Christmas present. She gingerly unwrapped a knife, a heavy grey woollen cloak and the rusty iron key to the door.
"What's the knife for?" she whispered. There was a moment's hesitation outside before Violet spoke.
"Your…, oh, sister…"
"The bright orange hair has got to go," Ash stated bluntly. Misty didn’t reply.
"It is far too noticeable, sister, you understand…"
Taking a deep breath, Misty held the knife in one hand and her braid taut in the other, she swung the blade down, hacking at her plait until it fell to the floor, glinting in the reflected moonlight from the blade that severed it. Was it a sin for women to take upon themselves the fashion of a man?
Finding herself filled with determination, she fumbled blindly around the damp floor for the thick soft rope of hair, limp, like a severed limb. She ran her finger down it, before pulling her hair ribbon from the bottom of it with a deft movement, and stuffed it up her sleeve.
Hurriedly, she pulled on the cloak and up the hood as she heard the rooster crowing. Kicking her hair under the bench, Misty took a triumphant look around the room where she has been imprisoned. Smiling mischievously, she let the sinful words play around on her tongue and escape her lips.
"Sir Thomas, go to Hell."
They walked their horses silently to the front gate, as Violet explained that she had overheard Sir Thomas promising her as a replacement for Misty to Sir Gary, so there was no way she was staying behind. Rearing their animals back when they met Ash's grazing at the gate, the trio sped off into the night, grins of pure relief on their faces as the sky cleared, and as the clouds moved to reveal the stars, it looked like someone was lighting a million tiny candles in the heavens.
"On to Palletonshire!" Ash yelled happily on the quiet road; the dangers that lay ahead of him forgotten as he exchanged excited glances with Misty, riding along beside him.