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| Chapter 66. The Letter | |
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rigit watched as the fight leapt like an errant spark from Armand and Anluan’s fury and set her mother ablaze. Her blue eyes narrowed and suddenly she was on her feet. “That’s quite enough out of both of you! I won’t abide a fight at my table. You treated that poor man with an unforgivable lack of manners!” Anluan opened his mouth to speak but closed it when Neave shot him a withering glare. Her father reckoned that her mother could curdle milk at ten paces with that look. Armand, however, had yet to encounter it and did not realize the danger he was putting himself in when he dared to chime in. “That poor man just ruined our only chance to find Mog. He deserved everything he got.” “Not at my table,” Neave snarled, “Not another word of strife or you’ll be sleeping outside with the dogs.” Brigit cringed when she noticed Isabeau was still blushing and curled over her bowl of cooling buckwheat porridge. She was trying desperately to make herself invisible. Helga and her cousin Megan had mysteriously vanished along with their plates of food. One did not fight at the Gaenor table under threat of Neave’s rare but legendarily vitriolic rage. Armand’s mouth fluttered and he glanced at Brigit helplessly. “I’m with mom on this one. You blew it.” “I just called it as I saw it,” Armand snapped, “The man is an incompetent fool.” “I hope you like the couch,” Brigit growled. “At least you’ll have company,” Neave said archly, smacking the back of Anluan’s head with the porridge spoon. “Smoochums, I didn’t mean it,” Anluan rumbled. “I won’t hear it!” Neave nearly shouted, “Out of my kitchen, both of you, and don’t come back until you can be civilized.” Brigit turned her shoulder to Armand as he sighed angrily and slumped out of the room with her father. The door closed and the two of them were alone with Isabeau. “I should go get Micah from the Foundersons,” she murmured, her voice quivering with emotion. “Aww pet,” Neave sighed, placing a heavy hand upon Isabeau’s delicate shoulder. Brigit realized then that this was the true source of her mother’s rage. It was obvious now that the men were gone that the poor woman had been fighting tears. Brigit got up and put an arm around Isabeau’s shoulders, offering her a clean rag from the washboard to dry her tears. “I’m sorry you had such a rough welcome, darling,” Neave said gently, “Must be hard coming all this way and being without your kin. I just get furious when my husband acts bullheaded.” “I was never just a skirt to Pendaran,” Isabeau choked, “Is that what people think I am?” “Of course not,” Brigit murmured, “I’m sorry Armand said such an ugly thing.” “But it’s true about Pendaran?” Isabeau asked, drying her tears. Brigit sighed, not knowing what kind of relationship had developed between Pendaran and Isabeau. Truthfully, she had felt concerned for him getting intimate with another woman so soon after Teleri’s death. She did not want him being wounded while so vulnerable. “There was a time when that was true, but I don’t believe it is any more.” Sister Lemony cracked open the door. Her bald head emerged into the open and her eyes were round with confusion “Sorry, I was looking for Anluan,” Lemony said, and then looking at Isabeau the little monk sighed and entered the kitchen. Brigit saw that Lemony was clutching a folded up note sealed with a blob of wax as she embraced Isabeau. “What’s that?” Brigit asked as Lemony sat down on the bench beside Isabeau. “Oh,” she hesitated and then flushed with embarrassment, “Last night I guess I was a little drunk and err… I was supposed to give it to Anluan this morning.” “Who is it from?” Brigit prodded, suspecting she knew the answer. “Oh, well, Maeve and I were chatting beside the fire and she asked me to relay a message but I guess she didn’t trust me to remember it. So um, I was nodding off and I was kinda tipsy and she offered to write it down and made me promise to give it to Anluan first thing. I just remembered it this morning when I packed up Penny’s things. I guess it fell off the lid of his chest and I didn’t see it until I moved it.” “The old lunk can’t read and I can’t abide him right now,” Neave grumbled, “Open it and tell us what it says.” Lemony fumbled with the seal and unraveled the paper. Brigit recognized Maeve’s flowing script, so perfect and authoritative. “My dearest friends,” Lemony began, smiling, “What a nice way to start a letter.” Isabeau chuckled through her tears while Neave made an exasperated sigh. “Please, do continue,” she goaded. “Oh, sorry,” Lemony said quickly before reading aloud, “As you know, Mog’s situation has weighed heavily upon my heart these many nights. I have done my best to abide by your counsel, for you are beloved to me as family. (How sweet!) However, over the last few nights, I cannot escape the feeling that Mog is in great peril. I fear that if I delay much longer he will die. (Oh dear, how awful!) I have considered my options. While I know it might be possible to divine his location eventually, I know in my heart that such a delay would only lead to his death. He needs me now. (Me, too!) To this end, I have resolved to trouble Master Kai for help (Well that’s good). I apologize that I deliberately seized the opportunity to house Master Kai during his stay with the intent of cornering him and demanding his help. (Well, that’s not nice!) If you are reading this missive, hopefully it is because I succeeded in my aim. Please do not be angry with Master Kai or Sister Lemony. It was my decision to do this, not theirs. Send me your love and blessings for I will need them. If all goes well, I shall return with Mog.” For once Lemony was speechless. “That sort of changes things,” Neave said after a while, “Still, I reckon a night on the couch won’t hurt the lads.” Brigit was inclined to agree with her mother. “I suppose we should tell them eventually,” Neave muttered, “and they both owe Isabeau an apology.” “I would still like you and Micah to stay with us, but if you would be more comfortable with another family, I’ll understand,” she said to Isabeau. “No, that’s alright,” she replied, her composure regained, “Micah likes Uncle Armand’s tricks and you have been nothing but kind to me.” “Army can be a bit of an *** sometimes, but he means well. I know he didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sure he’ll apologize when he realizes that he did.” “As will Anluan,” Neave grumbled, “I swear, those two are remarkably alike.” “He better apologize,” Brigit chuckled, “because the couch won’t be very comfortable with all of Micah’s toys under the cushions.” “I should go home and tell Penny and Zhou about the letter,” Lemony sighed, “Poor Penny, I hope he doesn’t get Zhou mad at him, too.” “I don’t suppose you could give a letter to Pendaran from me?” Isabeau asked. “Of course I can!” Lemony replied, her enthusiasm restored. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take care of something,” Isabeau said, smiling wanly, “and I really should fetch Micah. He has probably worn out the Founderson’s children by now.” “By all means, pet,” Neave replied. Brigit smiled up at Isabeau and nodded. When the two of them were alone, Neave set about making fresh cups of yak butter tea for the two of them. She watched her mother thoughtfully, wondering how she had tolerated someone so mule-headed for so long. Armand had shown an ugly side of himself that she had hoped he had finally outgrown. She felt disappointed, but more than that she was worried. “Maybe you and dad were right. I shouldn’t rush into marriage.” “Rushing into things is generally bad, but running away is worse. A warrior should never expose her back.” Brigit warmed her hands on the rough stoneware mug. She was surprised that her mother had not taken this as an opportunity to advocate separation from Armand. A couple months ago she sensed that her parents did not approve. “But he can be so… awful.” Neave shrugged and put up her feet, leaning back in Anluan’s chair as she sipped her tea wistfully. “Weigh the good with the bad. If he lays a finger on you, trust me, I’ll split him in two well before Anluan has grabbed for an axe. I have seen the way he looks at you and I have never seen you so happy. In time he will learn to hold his tongue before he lashes out in fear.” “Fear? He looked pretty annoyed to me.” “You haven’t learned yet that inside every bellowing man there is a frightened boy.” Brigit grinned. “And if they don’t figure it out, there’s always the couch,” Neave chuckled, “Works miracles, particularly if I wear that one dress he likes.” “Mother!” |
