Page 11 of Fortress of Snow

Sir Berenger led her to the castle and to the room where she would be sleeping. When he left, John patted the top of her head like one might pat a hunting hound. That bit of affection warmed her heart. Perhaps he wasn’t angry with her after all.

“I’ll let you take your bath, Maze Queen,” her brother said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right. Thank you, John.”

How good it was to have a kind brother who cared about her.

Beside her was a tub of water big enough for her to sit in. Mazy took off her clothes and stepped into the tub, sinking down, the water embracing her with soothing warmth. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

Mazy startled awake. The servant girl—Martha, if she remembered correctly—was coming toward her with a bucket.

“Some water to warm your bath,” Martha said.

“I was so tired I must have drifted off to sleep,” Mazy said, sitting up.

“I brought you some liquid soap, called ‘shampooing,’ for your hair. May I help you?”

“Thank you.”

Martha poured water over Mazy’s head while she leaned forward. “My mistress says it comes from the Far East where spices are from. She even lets the house servants wash our hair with it because she says it keeps the lice away. Have you ever used it before?”

“No, never. It smells good.” She should probably open her eyes so she didn’t fall asleep again, but it was so relaxing to have someone else wash her hair, kneading her scalp with her fingers.

But all too soon her bathwater started to cool and Martha was helping her out, giving her a cloth to dry herself, then drying her hair with another.

How good it was to feel clean and warm and dry. Martha helped her put on a long chemise, then a lovely pink bliaud with multicolored embroidery—birds and flowers and trees across the bodice and on the wide hem. She gave her a belt of the same colors and braided her damp hair quickly into two braids, twisting them into a knot on the back of her head.

“Now you are fit to see the queen of England, I would think.” Martha smiled at her.

“Thank you so much. Your Lady Delia must be so kind.”

“Oh yes, she is.” Martha nodded vigorously. “And now I shall take you to her.”

Martha led her to a stone staircase and they started up.

How fortunate that John had a friend like Sir Berenger and a mistress like Lady Delia. He had not been so fortunate when he was a child, as he had told her tales of harsh treatment at the hands of other knights and lords under whose tutelage he was being trained. The injustice of it still stung her.

“Here is her solar. Fare well, miss.”

“Thank you, Martha.”

Mazy opened the door to find a cozy room filled with many pillows, cushioned chairs and benches, and a beautiful young woman sitting by a window holding a baby on her lap.

“Please come and sit near,” the woman said. “You must be Mazy, Sir John’s sister. I am Lady Delia.”

Mazy bowed and curtsied. “My lady, I am very pleased to meet you and so thankful for your kind hospitality. I shall return the dress tomorrow.”

“Please keep it as a gift from me, for all your brother does here, his service to the squires, and his protection. My husband was also a knight and a guard once.”

“That is very generous. I thank you.”

“And please allow me to say how sorry I am to hear of your father’s death.”

She said the words so kindly, with so much sincerity in her voice, that tears instantly sprang to Mazy’s eyes. Unable to speak, Mazy nodded.

So few people had even acknowledged her pain that she hadpushed it to the back of her mind as much as possible. But it was still fresh, the sorrow of never being able to talk to her father again. She blinked away the tears.

The baby’s eyes were closed as he slept against his mother’s chest.