Return to Canifis

“But your price is less ambitious, de Adlard, and may I say probably far wiser, as well,” Lady Anne said. “I spoke to Lady Caroline this morning. She is so looking forward to a dance with you this evening. Who knows, before winter we might even have a wedding to bring joy to the small folk. So, run along and prepare yourself. I advise a brief rest, followed by a lot of red meat. Good for your energy, and from what Lady Caroline said, you might well need it. To dance, of course.”

Theodore debated whether to run, but decided that it would be far beneath his dignity.

Too late, he felt Lady Anne’s arm slip around his own.

I wonder if this is how a ship feels when it’s being boarded?

How stupid he had been! William’s giggling faded as the nobleman disappeared toward the nearest stairwell, no doubt planning to raid the pantries on Lady Anne’s orders.

“You have the advantage, my lady,” he said, resigning himself to the moment. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“I belong to one of Misthalin’s wealthiest families, Theodore,” the young woman said, her lips uncomfortably close to his ear. “My ailing father lives in the country halfway to Lumbridge, my mother is dead due to circumstances that even today make some suspicious, and I have no brothers. Like William, I am the last of my line.”

“Then perhaps you should marry him?” Theodore suggested, trying to sound glib.

“William?” she replied scornfully, then adjusting her tone. “I think not. He is a good man, in his own limited way, but he is no knight. He does not have the respect of the court in any meaningful way. No, Lady Caroline is the very best he can hope for. Trust me Theodore, they are a good match, and I know that she harbours a genuine affection for him. Truly, there actually is a possibility of a wedding.

“Ah, Lady Caroline,” she continued with a dramatic wave of her hand, “my meek little lamb.” She glanced at Theodore. “Although I’ve known many lambs who were considerably less meek.”

“You mock too much, my lady,” he responded. “Is there anything you take seriously?”

“Of course. But if I were to confide that to you, then you would only laugh. You have a heart of stone, Theodore. Incorruptible, yes, and I fear incapable of love, as well.”

She stopped, removed her arm from his, and very slowly walked around to face him. For a long moment she said nothing. The daylight shining through the windows fell upon her face. Her eyes sparkled.

Was that a tear I saw?

“Am I so wicked Theodore?” she asked, and the words sounded earnest. “Am I so detestable that you cannot even be civil to me? Is it because of the rumours of my mother, of her sympathy for Zamorak’s worshippers, whom she protected from persecution?”

Her voice rose in barely restrained anger, causing him to respond.

“No, Lady Anne,” he sighed, “I don’t believe you are wicked at all. And you are certainly not detestable. And it’s got nothing to do with your mother’s history. It’s just…”

It’s Kara, he finished silently. If anything happened between us, I would have betrayed her.

“I am a Knight of Falador, Lady Anne. My love is duty. I can have no other.”

“But you have not denied me either, Theodore. Because of that, I have refused the Kandarin ambassador’s son tonight, so I think I deserve an answer.”

Suddenly she curtseyed, and remained in that position before Theodore’s startled gaze.

“Don’t make me beg, Theodore,” she whispered. Her voice cracked slightly. “Please don’t make me beg.”

The woman is impossible. His thoughts were in chaos. And she is beautiful.

He gazed down at Lady Anne for several seconds. Her blonde hair was plaited down her back in Varrock’s fashion. She wore a diamond ferronniere upon her forehead, which complemented her perfect blue eyes. Her smooth skin was deliciously pale. He remembered a romantic verse he had once heard where a maiden’s skin had been described as being like shards of captured moonlight.

Was that what the bard had been singing about? he wondered. It can’t have been too different.

“Very well, Lady Anne,” he conceded. “You shall have your dance.”

I have waited for you Kara, and you didn’t even write to me.

Her blue eyes fastened onto his. He had expected them to possess a triumphant shine, but there was nothing save honest relief.

“Thank you, Theodore,” she said humbly. “Thank you.”

She rose slowly and looked to the nearest of the pictures on display.

“I understand that this afternoon you and your men are to be involved in a melee?” she asked.

Theodore nodded.

“We are. Against the finest knights of Varrock.”

“You are aware that Lord Hyett will be fighting against you?”

Theodore caught his breath. Lord Hyett, known as the Black Boar due to the tusked beast on his family crest, had taken an irrational loathing to Theodore since the squire had first arrived in Varrock. He was a dangerous opponent, as big and ill-tempered as his nickname implied. Yet Theodore had unhorsed him in their only competition.

“I will look for him then. I have beaten him before, and I can do so again.”

“Just remember, Theodore, Lord Hyett is vulnerable on his left side. His ankle is weak and his vision is apparently blurred in his left eye. In fact, you would do me a favour by humbling him and claiming his armour, as is the victor’s right. He has designs above his station, if you understand what I mean. Intentions. Unwelcome ones.”

Seize the Black Boar’s armour? Theodore was appalled at the thought. The Knights of Falador do not claim the property of others, even in such a contest.

“I will do what I can, Lady Anne.”

Lady Anne smiled innocently, but to Theodore her eyes were anything but.

“But enough of Lord Hyett, Theodore.” Her gaze wandered back to the tapestries on the wall. “I used to come here when I was a young girl,” she said. “I used to imagine participating in the battles, or being the princess in the paintings. My mother used them to teach me the history of Misthalin, for they tell a chronicle from beginning to end. We start with the painting of Avarrocka, the village that would become Varrock. In this gallery, all of Misthalin’s history is illustrated up until the tapestry depicting the battle of the River Salve.”

“I would like to see that,” Theodore said earnestly. He had grown up with tales of the war against Morytania and its climax upon the banks of the sacred river. Lady Anne, enthused by his interest, directed him to a tapestry hung in a prominent position. It was illuminated by the sun’s rays, streaming through a small window near the ceiling, giving it a slightly supernatural aura.

“It’s smaller than I imagined it to be,” he said after a moment.

“It is small, but it is incredibly detailed. See here, the five princes of Varrock who rode to battle.” Lady Anne pointed to the bottom left corner. “Only the youngest returned. King Roald can trace his lineage back to that one, nearly a thousand years ago.”

“How old is the tapestry?” Theodore asked, thoroughly engaged now.

“It’s over nine hundred years old, and was made by those who witnessed the battle itself,” she said. “This is the original. Some say it should be kept elsewhere, to prevent decay.”

“You do not agree?” he asked, knowing by her voice that she didn’t.

“This is real history, Theodore, a link to our past. Every time I see it I feel as if I understand my place in the world a little better. As if I understand what those who came before me had to fight, and of the hardships they endured so that we could enjoy a better future.”

She is absolutely sincere, he thought curiously. I had no idea…

Theodore laughed, and she looked confused.

“Here I thought your only interests were matchmaking and courtly mischief.”