Lara: Book One of the World of Hetar. Bertrice Small
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gold cloak about the girl’s shoulders.
“You are ready now, and the litter should be waiting for you,” Tania said. “I will see you in a few days when you come to the master’s house.”
“Thank you!” Lara said softly. “You have been kind.”
“I have done my duty as I was instructed,” Tania said gruffly, but the girl’s simple gratitude pleased her. The attiring woman might be a slave, but she appreciated good manners. She had served many a girl like Lara for her master. Some were frightened and wept constantly. Others were aware of the opportunity being offered them and became proud and rude. This girl was different. Not only was she the most beautiful girl Tania had ever seen, there was something about her… Tania scrambled to find a word within her mind, but she could not. It had to be the girl’s faerie blood, she finally decided. “Good day, mistress,” she said to Susanna, and then she was gone, leaving the door open behind her.
Outside they saw the litters were indeed awaiting them. Susanna took her son from Mistress Mildred, who was helped into the vehicle by one of the bearers. It was constructed of solid ebony, striped with gold and hung with sheer red curtains. Mikhail turned nervously as he was handed to the older woman, and was about to cry a protest until his mother entered the litter. His little mouth closed even as he began to inspect his new surroundings with his bright eyes. Lara had made her baby brother a little tunic of the blue and silver fabric.
Lara entered her own transport, which was painted silver and hung with sheer turquoise silk curtains. She lounged luxuriously upon plump cushions of coral and gold as if she had always traveled in such a manner. She felt the litter lifted up, and the four bearers set off at a brisk pace. They quickly departed the Quarter, moving through narrow streets that eventually opened into broader avenues. They crossed the Great Square where Lara had watched her father’s application be accepted for the tourney, taking an avenue that led through the Tournament Gate out to the large field where the tourney was held every three years. The gate itself was opened only for the tournament.
The litter bearers stopped, and the curtains were drawn aside. A plump, beringed hand Lara recognized immediately offered itself to help her out. Gaius Prospero beamed at her, nodding with approval as he lifted the cloak a moment to see the gown.
“Ahh,” he noted, “I see Tania has rouged your nipples. The woman has incredible instincts. I could not do without her assistance. You look lovely, Lara. I foresee a golden future for my golden faerie girl,” he chuckled.
“I am but half faerie, Master,” Lara replied, “and I know no magic.”
“Just as well,” Gaius Prospero responded, “but you have the faerie look, Lara, and that is important, for none are more beautiful than your mother’s race. Even the coastal peoples are not as fair. But come, and you as well, Mistress Susanna. I will take you to my private box. My wife and children are there today, for John Swiftsword’s reputation is famous and today’s jousts will be legend.” He led them to the covered pavilion, whose awning shaded comfortable chairs with leather seats and backs, their wooden arms and legs decorated with gilded carvings. A woman, a man and three children were already there.
“My wife, the lady Vilia,” Gaius Prospero said. “Here is the lovely Lara, my dear. Is she not perfect as I have said? And Lara’s stepmother, Mistress Susanna, her son and the little lad’s nursemaid.” It did not occur to Gaius Prospero that poor people did not employ nursemaids for their children.
Susanna was about to correct his interpretation when she caught Mistress Mildred’s eye, and the old woman shook her head in warning. Susanna smiled and said, “I am honored to meet you, my lady Vilia.”
“And I you,” the lady Vilia replied. She was an attractive woman not a great deal older than Susanna. “Ohh, I love babies,” she cooed at Mikhail, who gave her a large and toothless smile.
A second wife, obviously, Lara thought silently. Wealthy men like Gaius Prospero were known to divorce older wives and take young ones, as if a young wife would keep them young, too.
“This is my secretary, Jonah,” Gaius Prospero spoke again, but he was addressing Lara alone. His wife, Susanna and Mistress Mildred were already chattering like old friends. As for Aubin Prospero, he was looking as bored as any child would. He wanted the jousting to begin. His two older sisters looked at Lara, and giggled behind their hands.
“We are beginning to attract some notice, my lord,” Jonah said. “I think it is time to remove the girl’s cloak. May I?”
The Master of the Merchants nodded imperceptibly.
Jonah lifted the garment from Lara’s shoulders, and laid it carefully aside. Taking her hand, he drew her forward so she might be seen in all her golden beauty. Across the tournament field where the mistresses of the Pleasure Houses and the Magnates sat, there was an immediate stirring of interest.
“Are the invitations out yet?” Gaius Prospero asked his secretary.
“Yesterday, my lord. The acceptances will come quickly now, I suspect.” There was almost a smile on his narrow lips.
“Sit down now, Lara,” her master said quietly.
She did, and took the opportunity to gaze about the field. Flags flew everywhere. To their left were the magnates and the mistresses of the Pleasure Houses. To their right sat the Crusader Knights, their families and their guests. At the opposite end of the field was the entry where the contestants would enter. Gaius Prospero’s pavilion was but one of six at his end. There were few places for ordinary folk, but many managed to clamber up onto the low stone walls that surrounded the field.
The tournament began with a flourish of trumpets, and the combatants paraded into the ring and past the Crusader Knights, stopping to dip their lances to their leader, the Grande Knight, before riding off the field. Next came the pairing of contestants, and the jousting began. Lara cried out with delight as her father unhorsed his first opponent, then leapt from his steed to do battle afoot, but the young man yielded without a fight, amid the boos of the spectators. Several times more that day John Swiftsword rode forth to do battle, defeating aspirant after aspirant. At day’s end he was the only one left standing, and was declared the winner of the first day. His place within the ranks of the Crusader Knights was assured. On the last day of the tourney he and the other four winners would battle symbolically with each other and members of the knightly order. Then they would be knighted in the arena by the Grande Knight.
Lara and her companions were returned home in the litters that had brought them. Susanna hurried to remove her beautiful gown and don a more sensible garment so she might prepare a fine feast for her husband’s victory. Already word had spread throughout the Quarter of John Swiftsword’s victory that day, and neighbors were pushing into their hovel to taste a small bit of his victory. Lara had slipped immediately into the tiny chamber she shared with her baby brother and removed the exquisite garment she had worn that day. It was not for inhabitants of the Quarter. She wiped the rouge from her nipples, and slipped on her plain round-necked gown of dark blue. Then she carefully removed the slender gold chains from her hair, undid the elaborate plaits that Tania had fashioned earlier and redressed her tresses into two simple braids. Then she went out to assist her stepmother. Except for the neighbors, life was as it had always been.
Her father arrived home on foot, for Aristaeus was already stabled in the Garden District. He smelled of wine, for Sir Ferris, Sir Ajax and Sir Iven had insisted they celebrate his victory—their victory—together. In just five more days he would be knighted and officially one of them. But as exhausted as he was from his physical travails, and as tired as he was from the strain of worrying if he was really good enough to win the day, he greeted his neighbors with charm and goodwill. What had begun as a small celebration given by his family now turned into a Quarter-wide fest. This was a great moment for the Mercenaries. One of their own had not reached the rank of Crusader Knight in over sixty years. Food was shared, ale and cider flowed, and it was well past midnight when the Quarter finally grew silent.
The next morning a page was sent from the Garden District to accompany the future Sir John Swiftsword and his family as they chose which house they would