“Gods of fortune, no! It couldn’t possibly survive here.” She gestured toward the doorway. “They’re going to one across the southern border of the kingdom.”
“Oh.” Clarysa studied her hands, but soon abandoned them in favor of more interesting quarry. “I feel so much better now. I was wondering, if you don’t think me rude, who exactly are you? How long have you worked for Stellan?”
Gretchen grunted. “Aye, that’s a tale in and of itself. If you have the time,” she said with a wink, “and I know you do, I’ll make us some tea and tell you the account of how my family came to live in this wretched wreck of a castle.”
Chapter 13
Two mugs of strong, hot tea lit upon the table. Clarysa wrapped her hands around hers for warmth as Gretchen settled in her seat. The gypsy woman cleared her throat and began.
“A long time ago, my husband and I decided to return to his father’s home by the sea after many years of wandering among the Hemling Mountains. They’re on the northern edge of Falcon Heights. Ever been there?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You should go sometime. Beautiful area. Anyway, it felt right to make a visit as I was heavy with Ghyslain at the time. This was about oh, fourteen years ago. Our group included myself, my husband Besnik, his brother Froll and our daughter Patrulha.”
Clarysa’s eyes widened at this revelation. The Captain of the Guard!
“The journey started out with smooth riding and only the most beautiful of weather to grace our way. We couldn’t have been happier.” Gretchen’s eyes glossed over at some distant memory. “But my husband, fortune bless him, had a singular idea to take a shortcut, mainly to avoid entering the Wastes. He swore he knew it like the back of his hand.” Gretchen clucked. “Well, that couldn’t have been further from the truth as it turned out. Something must have changed long before we arrived, for the roads were confusing and poorly marked. We became lost. Set adrift without a thought of where to turn. More tea?”
Clarysa nodded, and Gretchen paused as she filled both their mugs.
“A vicious snowstorm waylaid us–a real howler. There was something odd about it. The change of weather was as night and day, being sunny and warm one minute, and freezing cold the next. Needless to say, we were ill-prepared. The storm toyed with us, driving us deeper and deeper into its belly.” Gretchen shivered. “It lasted for days. Our food supply dwindled down to crumbs, and you could forget about any kind of a fire. We were wet to the bone, constantly. Thought the reaper was upon us for sure then!”
“How awful!” said Clarysa. “What did you do?”
“What else could we do? We traveled on. And of course, that was the perfect time for me to go into labor. The storm and all must have induced it, for the contractions began something fierce!” Gretchen rubbed her middle-aged belly with a wry smile. “It was high time we found shelter, for I knew the baby weren’t holding back none!
“We went on, blind as bats. As luck would have it–and to this day I thank the gods of fortune for their kindness–we stumbled upon this very castle. Whether it was night or day, I can’t recall, for it always seems dark as pitch in this land.” Gretchen let out a low sigh before continuing.
“Now imagine Stellan’s surprise at this point. Here he is, a young boy, scared and all alone in this awful place. And you can right believe me when I say it looked a hundred times worse than what you see now.” Gretchen took a sip of tea. “So we ride up to the front gate, and we’re knocking and shouting like a crazed mob. My water had just broken. It seemed an eternity before he finally opened the door, and then only a crack. Besnik practically forced his way in. We entered, soaked and shivering, dripping like drowned rats.”
Clarysa was spellbound by the tale. She held her breath as Gretchen leaned closer.
“And what did you think happened next?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t imagine.
“Why, I gave birth to Ghyslain right inside the door. I plopped down nice as you please and out he came.”
“How terrible!” Clarysa gave her a sympathetic look. “What did Stellan do?”
Gretchen snorted. “Didn’t have much choice to do anything but watch. You should have seen him back then, all skin and bones. Paler than a corpse and dressed in rags. He must have been about fifteen. Never said a word during those first few days, just stared and pointed whenever we asked for anything. Not that he had anything to give other than a roof over our heads.”
She wrinkled her nose. “The place smelled like death, and with good reason. I’m telling you, no lie, there were dead bodies all over the place! Rotting, maggot-loving corpses everywhere we turned. All twisted in strange positions.” Gretchen pointed behind her. “One right here, too, face down in the hearth!” She shook her head. “God only knows what the boy did. Something devilish to be sure, for a dark cloud seemed to hang over him, sapping his will and confusing his senses. The horse was having trouble pulling the wagon, if you know what I mean.”
Clarysa shook her head.
The old woman tapped her forehead. “Sick in the noggin, he was. Let me tell you, a few days after our arrival, a wild look seized his eyes, one like a crazed beast.”
“What did it mean?”
“He had ‘the grip’ for sure. It was something fearful to behold. In all my born days I’ve never seen anything like it. That look, and the awful laugh! The poor dear began eating dirt right off of the floor. We knew we had to help him.”
Clarysa winced at the unexpected news. This was far worse than what she had anticipated. “What did you do?”
“My husband and Froll caught him, bound
