The Visit
1234 Words
The Visit~
Isobel Callan
Glenayre, Aleron
Grenmoon, 4400
Isobel opened her journal, flipped past Bess stories and gardening entries, and smoothed a clean page.
Clan Callan hosted the conclave at Windermere this year. Families from all over Aleron gather each spring to renew allegiance to their Chief of Chiefs.
Windermere is as spacious as Monaughty or Dundarien. It overlooks an inlet on the coast of the Erusian Sea, a league north of Port Ellard. Lady Onora graciously set aside rooms for us, though the abundance of guests overflowed into tents and pavilions in the courtyards.
At her first Aleron conclave, joining the big, rowdy, extended family calling themselves Hawks was a bit overwhelming. Clan Iverach had no equivalent to the weeklong gathering of feasts, music, dancing, and no small amount of drinking. But the Hawks drew her in from the start. No one got away with watching quietly from the side.
In the mornings, voting lords and ladies gather for clan business. Others seek the company of friends in the gardens and parlors. Rosalee and I saw few familiar faces, but Lady Marjory introduced us and made us feel welcome.
It wasn’t the whole truth. The Iverach sisters drew more than a few frosty stares, though Isobel suspected it was as much for their Camran blood as for Dowan’s. But no slight dared rise above a whisper after a glance from Marjory Callan.
Contests and sporting matches fill the afternoon hours. We gather on riverbanks and fields beyond the walls.
Isobel had never seen such spirited competition. Swords, pistols, and wrestling matches kept the men vying for bragging rights. Children ran foot races and played an endless variety of games with balls and hoops and sticks. Everyone joined in the herding contests, hunts, and hawking.
She was amazed to see women competing as enthusiastically as men. Teams of ladies played whist, a clever card game, in a tournament lasting two full days without rest. They held their own archery contests and played a spirited sport that involved whacking a wooden ball with a mallet while riding about on horseback.
Sethlyan won the sword tournament, though he claims it was only because Aengus Gruder was not there to best him. He and Rusty took top prize in the herding competition, too. I could not help but be proud of him, but he is so modest. He does not seem to realize how exceptional he is.
Neither did Lord Symon. She was coming to resent the sour-humored man. Seth so wanted his father’s approval, though he tried not to let it show. He was making Glenayre prosperous again, but his efforts drew not the slightest acknowledgment from aloof Lord Symon. At least Rogart took pride in his brother’s achievements.
Evenings are for feasting and dancing. Many Hawks are talented singers and musicians. Even with Seth’s encouragement, I could not find the courage to sing before so many, but he joined the other fiddlers without hesitation. Lady Marjory said all young Hawks learn music along with their reading and mathematics.
By the week’s end, Isobel felt she belonged in Clan Aleron. More importantly, she understood the significance of the conclave. It brought the confederacy of clans together and reminded them their bonds extended beyond the blood ties of kinship.
“Issy,” Seth bellowed from the hall. “They’re here.”
A week back at Glenayre, and they were hosting guests of their own. Seth waited for her outside as riders filed through the gates. At the forefront, a handsome, black-haired man cradled a baby in the crook of his arm. As soon as the horses stopped, the baby let out a loud wail.
“And the young Lord Duncan trumpeted their arrival,” Aengus Gruder announced with dramatic flair.
Seth laughed and bounded down the steps.
“Give me the boy. Let me see if he’s as wild as his father.” He peered around Aengus. “Lady Seara, welcome. The hospitality of Glenayre is yours.”
Seth gestured eagerly for the baby. Aengus handed down the kicking, screaming bundle.
“Likes the sound of his own voice,” said Seth. “Just like his da.”
Isobel fidgeted as Seth brought the bundle over to her. She’d never held an infant. She’d missed so many of life’s joys while hidden behind Monaughty’s walls.
Seth read her uncertainty and smiled.
“It’s like carrying a sack of potatoes. Squalling, squirming potatoes.” He shifted the bundle into her arms and headed back to their guests.
“Wait, don’t leave,” she said. “He’s crying so. What do I do?”
“Keep moving.” He cradled his arms and mimed a bounce. “You’re doing fine.”
Isobel bounced. She rocked on her toes. The tiny person in her arms stopped for breath between wails. He unscrunched his little eyes and looked up at her. She was sure she had never beheld a sight as extraordinary as little Lord Duncan.
Then he scrunched up his face and screamed again. She glanced around anxiously, expecting someone to scold her incompetence or rush to her aid. She got neither.
Aengus lifted his arms to a dark-haired beauty. The woman leaned, or rather, collapsed off the side of her horse. Aengus lowered her gently. She rested a delicate hand against her bosom and fluttered her long lashes. One would think she had endured the most harrowing of ordeals just by getting off a horse.
Another woman rode in, and Seth whooped a greeting.
“Rachel Gruder, you little hellion. Come here and let me look at you.”
The woman slid from her horse with practiced ease. Seth grabbed her up in a hug.
Isobel bit her lip and shifted her attention to the baby. She tried swaying side to side and wondered why his delicate mother wasn’t doing this instead. Between gasps for breath, his perfect eyes blinked back at her again. He sniffled. She smiled.
“M’lady, I can take him.” An older woman appeared at her elbow. Her features were round and soft, and her mousey brown hair escaped a disheveled bun. Fatigue lined her kind brown eyes.
“I hope I haven’t upset him,” said Isobel. “I have little experience with babies.”
“Naught fer worry. Lord Duncan’s not the easiest to settle.”
“Are you his nanny?” Isobel let the woman take him.
“I’m his wet nurse, m’lady. My name’s Peg.”
“May I visit him later, Peg? Would it trouble him?”
“Who would know?” Rachel Gruder joined them. “Everything troubles his little lordship.”
The strong jaw and raven-framed features that made Aengus so handsome didn’t translate as well to a woman’s face. Rachel was striking, but unlike the cherubic beauty her brother had married. A moment later, her face transformed with Aengus’ same quick smile and dimples.
“I hope you don’t mind me tagging along,” said Rachel “I’ll share a room with Peg and Duncan.”
“You’re welcome here, Lady Rachel,” she said. “Let me ready a room of your own.”
Duncan started squalling again.
“Don’t bother. I’m a heavy sleeper,” Rachel laughed. “I’ll leave you to see to the princess.” She cut an impatient glance at the fragile Lady Seara, then followed Peg and the baby inside.
Seth was still laughing with Aengus. She could taste the friendship flowing between them. Aengus had been a part of Seth’s life far longer than she, one more in the seemingly endless circle of people drawn to him. She was still making her own place in that circle.
“Lord Aengus, welcome. I’ve looked forward to your visit,” she said. “My husband has been sharing stories.”
“Don’t believe a word he says,” said Aengus. “I was coerced. Into most of it, anyway.”
“Please, Aengus, can you finish the introductions?” The alabaster doll fluttered her lashes again. “I am sorely tired and wish to lie down for a bit.”
“Lady Seara, forgive me. I was so taken with your precious Duncan that I forgot my manners.” Isobel offered her arm. “Here, let me show you to your room. Would you care for some tea?”
“Yes, if you would be so kind,” Seara answered in a plaintive sigh.
Chapter 55
- Writer
