head. She needed to speak to Embeth. Although it was late, perhaps she was not asleep yet. Would Embeth mind being disturbed? Faraday abruptly made up her mind and swung her legs out of the bed, wrapping a warm shawl about her shoulders against the cold night air.
The house was dark and quiet, for everyone had gone to bed early in preparation for the dawn start. Faraday walked slowly down the wide corridor, running her fingers along the wall for guidance, her feet cold where they touched the bare stone between the scattered floor rugs. She held her breath outside her mother’s room, but all was quiet. Mentally Faraday cursed her mother’s lists; if nothing else she would be able to recite the fist of Borneheld’s retainers to him on their wedding night. She wished her mother would tell her more about what a husband expected of a wife.
She paused outside Embeth’s room. There was the vaguest suggestion of light coming from between the cracks in the door. Good, Embeth was still awake. Faraday tapped softly, listened carefully for a moment, then tapped again. Embeth’s voice sounded softly, although what she said was indistinct. Faraday took it as an invitation to enter.
She twisted the door handle and stepped quickly into the room. Embeth was sitting on the edge of her bed swathed in a green woollen wrap, with a look of utter shock and disbelief on her face.
“Embeth,” said Faraday, halfway across the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late but I want to ask you if …”
Too late she saw Axis standing naked by the fire. She stopped, stunned, unable to tear her eyes from him.
“Faraday,” Embeth said desperately, rising from her bed and stretching a hand out towards the girl.
Faraday dragged her eyes back to Embeth. Her hands started to tremble where they held her shawl about her shoulders. How could she have been such a fool! Her eyes filled with mortified tears and she started to stumble back towards the door. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Please, excuse me!” Then she turned and fled before her tears could spill down her cheeks.
Axis took a step forward but Embeth stopped him with a look. “Wait here, I’ll talk to her.”
Embeth hurried as fast as she dared down the dark corridor. She dared not call out for fear she would wake Merlion and prayed that Faraday was not so angry that she would slam her bedroom door or, worse, bolt it after her. Fortunately Faraday did neither, and Embeth was able to hurry into the bedroom after her, closing the door securely behind them.
Faraday was huddled into her bed, her hands covering her face, her shoulders convulsing with sobs. Embeth sat down and wrapped her arms about her. “Faraday?”
Faraday dropped her hands from her tear-stained face. “Oh Embeth! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise … that …”
“Shush. It’s all right. You did nothing wrong, Faraday. Axis and I were just foolish to take such a risk with so many guests here. Shush.”
Faraday took a deep breath and made a determined effort to stop her tears. Artor, what a simpleton she was! “How long … how long …?”
“Oh, on and off for about three years. Faraday, listen to me. Axis and I have been good friends for many years; now and again we are lovers. But we are not in love. Do you know what I am saying?”
Faraday nodded, drying her tears with the back of her hand. “I think so. But I still feel so stupid.”
“Well,” said Embeth dryly, “at least you have learnt one of the more important rules of court etiquette – not to go bursting into bedrooms late at night, even if the person inside is supposed to be alone.”
Faraday smiled a little. “Mother didn’t teach me that one.
Embeth squeezed Faraday’s shoulders and then let her go, sitting back a little. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Well … can I ask you another question first? About what just happened?” Embeth nodded. “Do women at court sometimes take lovers, even though they are married to another?”
Ah, thought Embeth, and right here is where I have to be careful. It was not unusual for married noblewomen to take lovers, as did their husbands, but Embeth could foresee disaster should she tell Faraday that. “Faraday, sometimes it is not unknown for women to take lovers, but usually only after they are widowed.” And may Artor forgive my dissembling tongue, she thought to herself.
“So you and Axis were not lovers while Ganelon was alive?”
“No. We only became lovers some time after Ganelon died. And, should I remarry, then I would be true to my husband.” At least that is the truth, Embeth thought.
Faraday was silent for a moment. “I wanted to ask you about marriage, Embeth. How you felt, what it was like.”
“Are you having doubts, Faraday?”
Faraday nodded a little, her bright hair slipping free of its braid and over her eyes.
“It is not uncommon for a girl to have doubts before her marriage. So much is unknown and uncertain. But Faraday, your parents have already signed the contracts between your family and Borneheld. Although you have not yet actually spoken the marriage vows, or consummated the union, there is no turning back. Legally you are now bound to Borneheld, as Borneheld is to you. Only death can break the bonds between you. You both freely consented to the marriage before witnesses and before Artor.”
Faraday sighed and twisted her hair up out of her eyes. “I know, Embeth. But … but what if we are not happy together?”
“Faraday, your duty is to your husband, to look after his needs and his estate and to bear his children. If love also comes, then that is good. But whatever happens you must always respect and honour him. You will be Duchess of Ichtar one day, and possibly Queen. You will have responsibilities to many other people as well as to yourself and your immediate family. Happiness?” Embeth shrugged. “Happiness is not everything, but duty and respect surely is. Your duty lies clear before you, Faraday. Do not let any foolish, girlish, romantic notions come between you and your duty.”
Faraday looked a little shaken at this plain speech, but she also looked determined. “I understand, Embeth. Tell me, did you have happiness with Ganelon?”
Embeth smiled a little, remembering. “He was a good man, and he cared for me. He also respected me. At first I did not love him, and I found it hard to be happy here. But as the years passed and our marriage grew stronger, love and happiness also came along. One day – after bearing him three children! – I woke up and realised that I was in love with Ganelon. Two years later I lost him to the ill-willed tusks of a wild boar.” Embeth did not add that she had almost died with grief when her steward brought her news of Ganelon’s death. For a moment her heart clenched, remembering the blood down the steward’s tunic, the tears in his eyes.
Faraday smiled, comforted. This is what would happen between Borneheld and her. Love might not come at once, not even for a year or two. But come it would, and she would be as good a wife to Borneheld as Embeth had been to Ganelon. All it took was patience, respect, and a firm sense of duty.
“Thank you, Embeth. I’m glad that I had this talk with you.”
“Artor rewards those who remain true to their duty. Now,” Embeth tucked Faraday into her bed as she would have done her own daughter, “to sleep with you, for it is an early start in the morning.”
When
