The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(64)
“Indeed, my queen,” Collier said with an affected accent that was heavier than was normal for him. He bowed gallantly and patted Murer’s hand. “I miss hearing my native tongue. Let us test languages first. Shall we, my dear?”
Lady Murer nodded haltingly and together, arm in arm, they approached the first girl, Haven. Collier sized her up dispassionately, his eyes studying her face before traveling all the way down to her slippers. He cocked his head and asked, very rapidly, how she enjoyed the muggy rain and festering swamplands of this desolate land, and if she would not prefer the elegant vineyards of Dahomey to such a bleak existence in a stunted apple grove.
He spoke far too quickly for anyone who was not fluent in the language to understand. Maia could see Haven’s eyes widen with shock and then disgrace. Her stumbled reply was a plea for him to repeat his question more slowly. Collier sniffed dismissively and moved on to the next girl, Maeg. Maia stared at him, wondering what in all creation he was plotting.
For indeed, Collier appeared to have a special mission. He pretended to be charmed by Maeg’s appearance, and he asked her, much slower, about the weather in her Hundred.
“I am from this Hundred,” Maeg replied in stuttering Dahomeyjan. “My father is the sheriff.”
“Indeed? Do you like hawking? Good. Do you know Paeizian fencing? No? How sad, for I truly love the sport.”
He spared no time in moving on to Joanna, with his companion Murer a mute appendage to his brisk interrogations. He asked her about the size of the pigs in the swamplands around the abbey, following up with a question about whether the men of her Hundred were also pigs.
Joanna’s eyebrows furrowed, then shot clear up to her hairline as her brain translated his mocking question.
She stuttered incoherently, not sure how to respond to a king’s jest, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Collier chose to ignore her distress and approached Suzenne, whom he regarded with a genuine sign of interest. His gaze took in how close Suzenne and Maia were standing to each other, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Murer had obviously not understood most of the dialogue thus far, but she continued to cling to Collier’s arm with a possessiveness born of self-assurance. Maia struggled to control her feelings, wondering if Collier intended to torture her publicly. She was concerned for how he would treat Suzenne.
“And what is your name?” he asked Suzenne quite deferentially. It was an easy question any of them could have answered.
“I am Suzenne Clarencieux, Your Majesty,” she replied, eyes lowered in a flawless, formal courtesy. Collier’s eyebrow lifted in surprise at the sign of respect. Collier then asked her several questions about her father’s standing, her Family lineage, and, with a private smile, how she enjoyed wandering about in gardens with axe-wielding ruffians.
Suzenne’s chin lifted a small degree as she replied calmly and very fluently that carrying axes in gardens was appropriate when heavy branches could fall from above quite unexpectedly. Collier grinned appreciatively at her reply, looked back at Murer with a nod and an approving smile, and then moved on. Murer looked completely baffled by the exchange, unable to decipher the lightning-quick banter of foreign words.
“And you are?” he asked Maia with a curious tone in his voice, giving her a piercing look that almost dared her to speak the truth. She gazed into his eyes, wondering what he expected of her . . . fact or farce. Before she could respond, Lady Deorwynn appeared at his side.
“She is my lord husband’s natural daughter,” Lady Deorwynn said, intervening, her face a little flushed. “Lady Marciana. She is the one we spoke of recently. There is a little matter I must talk with her about, so I asked for her to be brought with the others. She would not be a suitable companion for Lady Murer, my lord.”
“Ah . . . thank you, Lady Deorwynn,” Collier said with his facetiously heavy accent. “I must agree with you. She would not be a fitting companion for Lady Murer. She speaks several languages, does she not?”
Lady Deorwynn bristled. “Perhaps, my lord. If she still remembers them all. She has been . . . serving . . . in my mother’s household for many years, with little chance to practice.”
“What an honor and privilege,” Collier said, his eyes afire as he turned to Lady Deorwynn, “to be a . . . how does one say? . . . a servant in your mother’s household. In Dahomey, we do not treat our well-born children so kindly. Many are given up as wretched. I am pleased to see the king’s natural daughter is not treated so cruelly in Comoros.”
He turned and looked back at the group of young ladies. “Music next, my lady?” and he bowed gracefully to Lady Deorwynn.
“You wish to hear music?” she asked, confused.
“You said they taught music at this abbey, yes?” He widened his eyes in feigned innocence. “Let the girls play!” His arm swept grandly toward the cluster of girls. Then he glanced surreptitiously over at Maia. “All of them.”
Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provoked it.
—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Forsaken
The room was full of unspoken tension, underscored by the quivering notes played by nervous fingers on strings. Instruments had been fetched, and each girl was being asked to perform a piece. Hanging over them all was the knowledge that they were performing in front of a foreign king who had power over their future destiny. Collier was all deference and grace to Lady Murer, who wore an increasingly smug expression as she soaked in the experience of being so graciously doted upon by such a handsome man. Murer’s golden curls bounced giddily as she tried vainly to monopolize Collier’s gaze and attention. Collier’s smile and courtly manners were enough to placate the vapid young woman, but Maia, who knew him perhaps better than the others in the room, saw more. Fire had erupted in his gaze when Lady Deorwynn interrupted their interchange. She could tell his secret objectives were consuming his thoughts, though she was at a loss as to what those objectives were.