Once upon a Spring morn

“Non, cherie, what you did was right; else he might not have been fooled and would have slain you instead.” Celeste shrugged. “Mayhap so, but I wouldn’t have risked starving to death, for alone I could not move the rock.”

Roel laughed. “You could have eaten the Ogre. He would have lasted for many, many days.” Celeste shuddered. “Don’t even think that, Roel.” They rode without speaking for a while, and then Celeste said, “He was a man-eater, and many a victim had he consumed. His stew was of people he had captured and thrown into his pot. Oh, Roel, though I did not take pleasure in slaying Lokar, Faery is a better place without him.”

“Oui, my love.” Roel reached across the space between them and touched her arm.

In that moment Celeste gasped and cried in dismay.

Roel jerked his hand back and clutched the hilt of his sword, and he stood in his stirrups and scanned about, yet he saw nought but the rolling hills they had come into. “What is it, Celeste?”

“I deliberately let Lokar win at pips,” said Celeste, despair in her tone.

“Oui, and. .?”

“Don’t you see, Roel, Lady Lot told us there would be many challenges along the way and we must win them all. But I let Lokar triumph at pips.” Roel frowned in thought and then intoned:

“Difficult tests will challenge you At places along the way;

You and your love must win them all, Else you will not save the day.” He looked at Celeste and shook his head. “I think the test was not in playing pips, but rather in defeating an Ogre. That, and finding a way to get free. And in both of those, you managed skillfully.”

Celeste sighed. “Well, I did slay Lokar, and together you and I got me free. Oh, my love, I do hope you are right.”

In midafternoon, the wind strengthened and clouds scudded across the sky above, presaging an oncoming storm, for on the far horizon, a dark heave of clouds roiled toward them. Left and right and ahead they looked, but nought of shelter did they see. They paused long enough to fetch their oiled, leather cloaks from their bedrolls, and to make certain the gear on the packhorses was well covered. On they rode-a candlemark and then two-and even as in the distance ahead they caught sight of a broad forest, spatters of rain forerunning the storm came flying on the wind.

“We can make shelter in its eaves,” said Roel, spurring his mount to a trot, Celeste doing likewise. But a deluge came pouring down ere they reached the woodland, yet at last, and with the horses thoroughly drenched and chilled, they rode in among the trees.

“I deem we can-”

“Roel, wait. I think I see a dwelling, or rather the wall of one.”

On they rode, deeper into the forest, where they found a high stone wall running to left and right, and along this barrier they turned rightward.

And the rain thundered down.

They came to a gate ripped from its hinges and lying across the way, beyond which lay a courtyard covered with litter and leaves, and beyond that sat what was once a stately manor, for it had the look of long abandonment: vines grew wildly, and shutters hung awry; windows were broken, and the front door stood ajar.

“Hello!” cried Roel above the hammer of rain.

There was no answer.

“Hello!” he cried again, louder.

Still there was no answer.

He turned to Celeste. “I deem this place be a derelict.

’Round side or back should be a stable; let us get the horses into shelter.”

Through driving rain, past weed-laden gardens and overgrown flower beds they splashed, and beyond a broken fountain and a staved-in gazebo. Behind and off to one side of the manor sat a neglected stable, and casting back their hoods the better to see, they dismounted and led the horses in, Roel with his sword in hand, Celeste bearing her long-knife.

Rain pelted down onto the roof, filling the shelter with its drumming.

But for shadows, the place was deserted.

As vapor rose from the animals, Celeste sheathed her long-knife and said, “Roel, until we see what’s afoot, let us leave the horses be, in case we need take quick flight.”

“Oui. My thoughts exactly,” he replied, slipping Coeur d’Acier into its scabbard.

They loosely tied their mounts to a hitching post, while leaving the packhorses tethered to the saddles.

Roel took up his crossbow and cocked and loaded it, and Celeste strapped on a quiver and readied her bow and nocked an arrow to string.

Roel glanced at Celeste and received a nod, and out into the storm they went.

Angling across the overgrown yard behind the house, they strode to a service entrance. The door flapped back and forth in the swirling wind. Into the manor they stepped, and a hallway stretched out before them, its dust-laden floor unmarked by track other than those of mice. Doors and archways stood to left and right, and no sound other than that of the rain disturbed the silence.

Along this way they quietly walked, past storerooms and a kitchen, its hearths unfired, gray ashes lying within. The chamber across the hall held a large pantry, its shelves yet laden with goods, these dusty as well. Past a laundry room they went, its ironing boards standing unmanned, its tubs empty, and nought but a few tattered jerkins hanging from the strung lines. More doors they passed, and all chambers lay untended; all were unoccupied. They came to a door, and beyond they found a welcoming hall, its marble floor covered with trackless dust and leaf litter. Sweeping staircases led upward to the floor above. ’Round the welcoming hall itself, doorways led to a music room, a parlor, a chamber with a desk and bookshelves, a dining room, a ballroom, and other such places where people gathered.

But all was in disarray, chairs o’erturned, tables smashed, leaves stirring in the wafts from the storm, and all the windows seemed broken inward as if by a great force from without.

“What shambles,” said Celeste, looking about and sighing.

“Oui,” said Roel.

Up the stairs they went, where they found bedrooms awry, some large, others modest, and some small. For here were the household and guest quarters, and dust lay thickly, and again the windows were smashed inward, even in the bathing rooms and privies.

“Something dreadful happened here,” said Celeste, and Roel only nodded.

Back downstairs they went, and they came across an entry into the cellars, wherein they discovered dust shy; covered kegs of ale and casks of brandy and bottles of wine. But in one corner they also found an upturned open cask and dried human feces within, as if it had been used as a chamber pot.

“Perhaps some group took shelter in this cellar to escape the disaster above,” said Roel, surveying the scene.

“It looks as if they lived here for a while in isolation. Yet there are no bones of any occupants, so they must have eventually fled.”

Celeste looked about as well. “Roel, there are no windows to the outside, and so whatever befell this manor, this is the only protected place.”

Roel nodded. “Love, although there are beds above, beds we could make habitable, I say we spend the night in the stables.”

“I agree,” said Celeste. “Let us go from this damaged place now.”

They unladed and unsaddled the horses, and they brushed the animals thoroughly to take away as much moisture as they could, and then took a currycomb to them. Then, as the steeds munched on their rations of grain, Celeste and Roel dried themselves, for in spite of the cloaks and hoods, their heads and necks and hands and forearms were quite drenched.

Roel built a fire, and together they made a hot meal of tea and gruel honey-sweetened, along with hardtack and jerky.

And the rain yet drummed on the roof as they made ready to sleep. Celeste insisted on taking first watch, and Roel nodded and lay down, the knight yet ruing the fact that he hadn’t thought to bring along a nervous but plucky dog.

Some candlemarks later Celeste wakened Roel and whispered, “Listen.”