“I have no rocks,” Lista said as she came off the dais, heading for the southern door to the hall. “But I do have comfortable beds. That shall have to suffice.”
Grinning, Louis and Julian followed.
Lista led them around to the front of the castle, near the great portcullises, where there were small guard rooms, three in a row. The first two had been used but the third one had a bed that had not been slept in. The linens were clean, the pillow soft, and there was a hearth that was stacked with kindling and not lit.
“Here you are,” Lista said, moving to the single window facing south and reaching up to pull the oil cloth down to dim the chamber and cover the window. “If you need anything at all, there is usually a servant or soldier at the end of the corridor. They will be happy to help you.”
As Louis dropped his things wearily, Julian set his down at the doorway and went to light the hearth. Using a flint and stone, he sparked the wood easily and a blaze came forth, filling the chamber with some warmth and light. Lista picked up the emptywater pitcher and went to find the servant she spoke of, sending the man for fresh water. As he ran off, Julian finished with the fire and went to collect his things again.
“Thank you,” Louis said, removing the belt around his tunic. “I feel as if I have made a good acquaintance today, Julian. I hope it will not be the last time we see one another.”
Julian nodded his head. “As do I,” he said. “I realize Pelinom and Berwick have not been great allies of Sunderland, but we can change that.”
“I believe we can.”
Julian’s exposed left eye twinkled. “If I do not see you before you leave, then this parting was well made,” he said. “Find me at Pelinom the next time you are in the north and I shall seek you at Herrington the next time I am further south.”
“I hope you do.”
“Good sleep to you, my lord.”
Louis gave him a smile and Julian quit the chamber, running into Lista as she returned with the pitcher of water. She took it into Louis as Julian stood just outside the door, waiting until she emerged and shut the panel quietly behind her. Then she looked up at Julian and looped both hands through the crook of his elbow.
“Now,” she said. “Off to bed with you, young man. You have had a busy night, too.”
That was very true. Julian let her lead him back to his borrowed chamber, which was actually quite a large chamber and very comfortable. Far too big and comfortable to be for visitors. As they entered the room, Lista let go of him and went to the hearth, which was dead embers at this point. There had been a fire yesterday when Julian had arrived, but that had long since died out.
As Julian began to strip down, Lista swept away the ashes and neatly piled the kindling, lighting the fire with a flint and stone.
“This used to be my father’s chamber,” she said. “Normally, no one stays here, but I made an exception in your case.”
Julian smiled faintly as he placed his belt upon the nearest table and bent over to begin stripping off the rest of his clothing.
“I am honored,” he said. “Truthfully, I was wondering who this chamber belonged to, once. It is quite grand.”
He pulled off his de Velt tunic as Lista glanced up at the enormous de la Mere standard that hung against one wall. “Grand, indeed,” she said. “My father liked his comfort.”
“Were you close to him?”
Lista blew on the fire, bringing forth a weak flame. “I was,” she said. “Closer to him than to my mother. I miss him daily.”
Julian put his tunic on the table and bent over to shimmy off his mail coat. “I am sorry,” he said. “But I understand what it is like to miss your father. I miss mine daily, as well.”
Lista fanned the flames a little more. “Were you close to him?”
“Very close.”
She paused a moment. “What do you remember most about him, Julian?” she asked, then quickly added: “I do not mean to pry, but I wonder if it is the same thing I remember about my father. He has only been gone a little over two years and I awoke the other morning, terrified that I’d forgotten what he looked like. More than anything, I remember the sound of his voice. Do you remember that about your father?”
Julian’s movements slowed as he set the mail across a chair to dry out, his thoughts moving to his father. He didn’t often let that happen.
“I remember,” he said, subdued. “Mostly, I remember the way he made me feel when I was in his presence.”
“How was that?”
Julian’s gaze drifted over to the de Velt tunic, like the one his father was wearing when he’d been killed. “Safe,” he finally said. “My father made me feel… safe.”
Lista pondered that. “I don’t remember that about my father,” she said. “Of course, we rarely had any trouble at Felkington. Last night was a rare occasion, indeed, so safety was never something I needed to feel. What I remember other than his voice is his hands. My father had very big hands. Odd, isn’t it? What we remember about those we loved, I mean. It’s the little things.”
