MChalice
Of The Goddess
Chapter 1
I would rather suckle the rancid milk from a malformed goat teat than spend one
more moment in this DISMAL PLACE,” Lady Madeline screamed before hurling
her tortoise shell brush across the room.
The projectile trailed curly
red hairs as it skimmed over the heads of the three terrified handmaidens, then
crashed into the adjoining stone wall. At the moment of impact Vonbley, the stockiest
of the maids, fainted dead away.
“My Lady, Vonbley has swooned,”
Dahlila sputtered as she and Kara desperately tried to support the large girl’s
weight.
“Let her fall, for pity’s sake; she is beyond pain
now. I will splash some yellow water under her nose if she is not around soon.”
As Madeline headed for her chamber pot, which was stored beneath the huge
bed draped with thick maroon cloth, the maidens gasped in shock and let Vonbley
slip to the stone floor. They were frantically fanning the girl’s flaccid
face when their mistress returned toting her ill-smelling vessel.
“Where
. . . what happened?” Vonbley mumbled. Her small brown eyes began to focus
on the anxious faces of her two crouched coworkers, and then grew as wide as thread
holders at the sight of Madeline looming with the stinking pot. “Oh, My Lady!
Not the piss jug—please, have MERCY!” The big maiden suddenly sat straight
up, knocking the fair-haired Dahlila into their mistress’ legs.
Madeline desperately tried to keep her balance but lost out to gravity, and as
she fell the sleeve of her long cream-coloured dress caught on a wooden table,
which immediately launched the chamber pot from her hands. Vonbley was scurrying
backward like a land crab when the flying ceramic vessel bounced off her stomach,
showering them all with old urine, then shattered against the bedpost. The three
maidens began shrieking at the top of their lungs, while Madeline sat on the stone
floor and howled.
Within moments the heavy wooden door flew open, and Sir Galon Steadfast, the captain
of the guard, along with two guardsmen barged in. The servants were mortified
that anyone should see them in such a predicament so their voices escalated even
more.
“Has someone broken into thy chambers, My Lady?” the
black-haired captain yelled over the wailing young women while his guardsmen glimpsed
nervously around.
“There is the knave who broke and urinated upon
my handmaidens!” Madeline pointed in the general direction of the crushed
pot, and Sir Galon’s mouth dropped open as he turned to stare at the screaming
trio, who were indeed soaked with some foul-smelling substance.
“I
WILL KILL THE ROGUE FOR SUCH BLASPHEMY AGAINST WOMEN!” Red-faced with fury,
the captain drew his massive silvery sword, which scared the maids into a merciful
silence, then signaled his men to search the large chamber.
While they plundered
through the armoire and then under the bed, the maidens calmed down enough to
see the joke that was being played on the guards.
"Come
out you sick and vile antagonist—face your DEATH,” Sir Galon commanded
as he stormed around the room, slashing his weapon in front of him like he was
dueling a wicked ghost.
With rumps in the air, the guardsmen frantically
poked their swords under Madeline’s bed when something loudly cracked under
their raging superior’s weight. Galon looked down to see the remains of the
fragrant foe crushed under his black-laced boot, and with a confused expression
he glanced at Madeline, who promptly burst out laughing. The captain absently
stroked his thin mustache, as if trying to figure out the situation, then his
guardsmen started snickering until he cast an evil glance their way. Without uttering
a word the three men exited the area in haste, and the echoes of the women’s
laughter followed them down the hall.
“Oh, My Lady—the look
on Sir Galon’s face, it was worth two yellow-water baths at least.”
With urine dripping from her fair hair, Dahlila giggled behind her hand, and Madeline
reached over and patted the young woman’s shoulder.
Kara’s
dark eyes narrowed into jealousy, then she quickly fetched some cleaning rags
from the room’s storage trunk.
“He deserved the trickery, considering
the way he is always making me nervous with his long stares and dreaminess,”
Madeline stated. She stood up and walked to her stained glass window, swung it
open and the fresh cool air swept into the room.
“He just fancies
your affections, like so many other innocent suitors.” Kara gave her mistress
a knowing look, and Madeline tried to hide her sudden disgust. For a moment, the
maiden’s face became an ugly sneer, then she turned away. “Come now,
Vonbley, help me wipe this up.” Kara started angrily scrubbing the floor,
and Vonbley held her nose as she crawled over to help.
“Forgive
my fit,” Madeline stiffly said. “I am so tired of being forced to stay
in this grievous place, I feel I may lose my sanity if the circumstance does not
change soon.” She glanced at her handmaidens then turned her attention to
the rain-drenched valley below.
From her cliff-side view, she could
see the rooftops of Ellisbeth and the swollen river beyond. The township was named
for her great grandmother, Lady Ellisbeth Dartenmarth, whose family portrait still
hung in the castle’s dining hall, and Madeline was her living double.
Petite in stature, with thick curly red tresses and skin as fair as the light
from the moon, Lady Ellisbeth was rumored to have possessed a magical presence
and a heart that was generous and full of love for all living things. Though she
never knew her greatgrandmother, Madeline always imagined how much better her
life would have been if she’d been born to her. With a feeling of sadness
the young woman wiped a single tear from her cheek.
In all her twenty
years, she’d never felt so alone. Even the attention of the beautiful raven-haired
Kara did not phase this melancholy that had descended on her like a night owl,
seeming to steal away her very soul. With a sigh, Madeline turned from the window.
Her handmaidens were down on their knees, cleaning up the mess from her frustrated
tantrum, and she was ashamed of her actions towards them.
Unleashing
anger upon ones that care for your every whim was certainly not very ladylike,
and it was certainly not something that Grandmama Ellisbeth would have done, she
thought, wondering how she could redeem herself. A smile slowly crept its way
over her mouth and Madeline loudly cleared her throat.
“I will
finish cleaning it,” she announced while striding towards them. “You
may all go and get a sweet-water bath in the Royal Chamber spring. If the bathing
servants have a problem with that, send them directly to me.
“But,
My Lady, no servant’s to immerse in that sanctified water. We’ll be
excommunicated,” Dahlila argued, then glanced at Vonbley, who was slack-jawed
with amazement.
The only person who didn’t seem shocked was Kara.
She knew all about those chambers, and on several occasions had been immersed
in more than just the Holy Water.
“I told you to go, NOW GO!”
Madeline’s temper got the best of her again, and the three handmaidens flew
out of the room, slamming the heavy door on their way out.
With a deep
calming breath, the young woman walked back to the window. The afternoon sun was
actually peeping out from the clouds, and Madeline noticed a few townspeople taking
advantage of the break in the weather and hauling their small fishing boat down
the soggy banks to the river. While watching the men load their nets, she wondered
what humanity had done to deserve such punishment from God and prayed that the
time of penance would soon be over.
Since 1315 the rain had been near
constant, ruining crops of corn and hay, and thousands had lost their lives to
the floods, starvation, or the coughing sickness. Madeline’s father, Lord
Quinton Dartenmarth, had spent a fortune importing food and supplies for the surrounding
communities, but after two years, people from less fortunate places had become
mightily desperate. With so much misery and death, many had turned from the commandments
of their religion. To them life had become a war, and they banded together with
common scoundrels and thieves who were already robbing the small townships and
killing the innocent.
“What will become of us?” Madeline whispered.
She thought of her ancestors, who had survived a similar plight.
It
was in the year 1216 that her great grandfather had been severely injured during
the crusade against the Albigenses. After weeks upon a slow-moving funeral cart,
the poor man returned to find that a war of a different type had happened upon
the land he called his home. While the proud and honorable fought in the crusade,
hordes of opportunistic ruffians had been happily pillaging the South of France.
Such beautiful country it was that many died for the love of it, but Lord Philip
could barely walk, much less fight anymore. Sapped of bodily strength, he used
the power of his wealth to move his entire family and estate far north to a safe
and almost inaccessible site.
Nestled between the immense Delille Forest
and the river Tidona was a cliff-faced mountain, and Lord Philip designed a castle
and hired near two hundred serfs to cut it right into the top of the precipice.
Permanent dwellings were built in the valley below for everyone to live in, and
after the castle’s completion in 1217 the workers, along with their families,
were given safe haven and the township Ellisbeth was formed.
There was
only one access road from Ellisbeth that led up to the fawn-coloured limestone
fortress, but Madeline knew of a secret tunnel which had also been built during
the construction. The cliff-castle had over thirty rooms, stables for the animals,
a natural spring-fed pond, and a huge courtyard for recreational strolling and
the yearly castle fair and tournament. The fair was originally a celebration of
the castle’s completion, and everyone in Ellisbeth was invited. The guests
had such a wonderful time that the event became a yearly holiday, and Madeline’s
family was forever honored for their generosity.
Even though they were
of noble heritage, it was not uncommon to see any of the Dartenmarths in the township
conversing and doing trade with the general public. The lords and ladies became
widely known for their good humor and caring nature, and soon the nearby settlement
of Hampton came into existence along with a second westerly one named Stagon.
The three communities flourished, and for a full century Lord Philip’s dream
of a safe and productive colony reigned true. Until last month.
On February
10th, a band of unrulies had descended upon Stagon and annihilated it. Most of
the men were slain, and the dwellings were pillaged and burnt to the ground. Women
and children were taken as prisoners, and their raped and tortured bodies could
be found dumped along the muddy roads leading away from that poor homestead, just
a day’s ride from where Madeline now stood.
Her father had banded
with the best swordsmen, and several outposts had been set up on the incoming
roads of both Hampton and Ellisbeth. These were manned night and day, but no one
felt truly safe as the news of other less fortunate places continued to fill them
with fear.
Captain Steadfast had assured the Dartenmarths that their
home was nearly invulnerable. The castle was so covered with tendrils of ivy and
maidenhair fern that it was almost undetectable to outsiders, and if any rogues
dared to come near, they’d be quickly slain by the guards.
But
what if the murderers should ride up the river banks? Would the guards even see
them? Madeline wondered. And what of the children I have given sweets to in the
streets and the castle fair that everyone loves to attend? After Stagon’s
horrible tragedy, will Father really cancel it? While looking out on the seemingly
peaceful countryside, the young woman suddenly felt like a chained wild animal,
full of anger and spite, hungry for justice over those ill-willed devils.
“I would cut them down myself if I came upon their terrible
countenances,” she swore, then bowed her auburn-haired head.
After a few moments of reflective silence, Madeline prayed aloud
to her guardian angel, whom she’d glimpsed occasionally since
childhood. “Dearest Lorin, please protect those who are in
my family’s care and bring peace back into our hearts . .
. and please protect me from my trying situation.” Her alabaster
skin was reflecting the rays of the afternoon sun, and when she
opened her eyes there was a flash of peach-coloured light near
her right shoulder. She smiled as the scent of her old spirit
friend wafted through the air. “You always smell of roses,
dear angel of sprites. Thank you for your manifestation. I feel
much better.”
Soon the flowery
scent was replaced by that of the earlier urine accident, and Madeline turned
from her window and began cleaning up the remainder of the mess.
CHALICE OF THE GODDESS
©2007 by Amazing Dreams Publishing.
All rights reserved. 
|
