D. A. Houdek

Deb Houdek Rule

Web designer - Science Fiction author - Civil War historian - Genealogy researcher

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Of All the Western Stars

by Deb Houdek Rule

Chapter 31

With the artificial intelligence device from the future stilled and carefully concealed beneath her gown, Lisette pulled on a cloak and went out into the night to fetch Agnes’ servants from their quarters. The first cold splattering of rain struck her as she stepped from the doorway into the outer darkness.

Put into a bed and well-covered, Geraint appeared to be sleeping easily. Lisette’s touch told her he still burned with fever. Even in his sleep he coughed. Lisette cursed the dampness and draftiness of the room. Andrew muttered under his breath as he gathered every last bit of firewood in the house and fed it into the fireplace before going out into the storm to find more wood.

"He needs to be bled, milady," the girl said, shaking her head.

Lisette bit her lip to keep herself from speaking Baby’s words on the futility of that. "There is no surgeon in this village, nor any nearby," she said. "I know of one who may help him, though. Can you care for him by yourself whilst I am gone?"

Jane looked at her with eyes like a startled rabbit, soft yet stupid. "Lady, you cannot go out alone, in the night and the storm. Why the Duchess would cut off my nose if I let aught happen to you. No, mistress. Andrew and me, we can’t let you go."

Her own fear at venturing out into the night, with its dangers, frightened Lisette more than she could say. Letting anger swell and drown her fear, she raised her hand as if to strike the girl. "I am mistress of his house, and milord Geraint is master. Whilst you are here you are not my aunt’s servants, but mine and you will do as I command."

The girl cowered. "Yes, milady," she whispered, her eyes wide.

Lisette understood her surprise. Jane had known Lisette since she was a child and had never seen her behave any way but kindly toward servants. Lisette turned away, bending low over her husband so that the dim light of the candles and fire didn’t show the blush on her face. Geraint murmured and tried to lick his dry lips.

"Fetch water," Lisette ordered.

"Yes, milady." Jane scurried toward the door.

"Wait." With the door to the corridor half open, letting a chill draft into the room, the servant girl paused. Lisette rubbed her eyes while the swirl of all she’d read and learned from Baby raced through her mind. "Boil the water. Boil it good and long… and use the copper kettle. Use nothing made of lead. While you’re about it wash your hands and face with the strong lye soap."

"Yes, milady," she repeated, her face clearly showing her bewilderment at the odd instructions.

The door thudded shut behind her. Lisette turned back to the bed where Geraint both sweated and shivered. In her mind she saw again her helpless little sister lying just as Geraint did while everyone frantically struggled to save her life. It was all for naught, they’d not had the knowledge that could save her. Ashur did. Oh, Lord, he couldn’t have left yet, gone away in a spaceship to fly beyond the heights of Heaven.

She knew where he was going, to the place they’d found him. Throwing the latch of the door into place, she hurriedly dropped the damp cloak on the floor. Flinging open her trunk she felt through her clothes for something warm. All fine and delicate dresses, fit for a lady to sit in a coach, not to ride astride a horse. Lisette winced as she remembered the way her thighs had been rubbed raw on her last desperate ride.

She needed something else. Snatching up a candle, she unlatched the door and hurried down the corridor to Geraint’s bedchamber. From his trunks she took up thick hose, stout breeches and coat. A pair of high leather riding boots lay in the corner. She hesitated. They’d be too large but much better than her thin-soled slippers.

Back in her room, with Geraint still sleeping restlessly, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the hose. Lisette gathered her silk shift up around her waist and put on the short breeches, tucking the shift into it.

She felt odd, dressed half as a man. Beneath the silk the holo crystal nestled, cool and smooth, between her breasts, giving her a comforting sense of hope. There were miracles to be had in Ashur’s world, would that he could work one here.

The doublet warmed her. It was all much more comfortable, she was surprised to find, that the constricting bodices and cumbersome skirts of her dresses. Over the doublet she cinched tight one of Geraint’s belts, slipping a slender dagger into the sheath at her waist.

She found she had to tuck some of her kerchiefs into the toes of the boots, but once on the protective leather tops came over her knees. A moan from Geraint stopped her as she was reaching for the coat.

"Lisette?"

She went quickly to his side. "I’m here, husband," she said, wiping his forehead with a soft cloth.

Geraint snatched at her hand, his grip stronger than she’d thought it would be. He pressed her hand to his hot lips and held it there for a moment. His eyes closed. Lisette thought he had fallen into insensibility again, but his grip remained firm. He opened his fever-brightened eyes to stare at her.

"I am so sorry, Lisette."

She tried to smile. "‘Tis not your fault you’re ill."

He shook his head. "No, I’m sorry for all I have done to you. I know how it hurt you not to be made a true wife. I couldn’t bear to look upon you, knowing I could not, in good conscience, touch you."

Lisette frowned. "What do you mean, that you couldn’t touch me? We were married before a priest and before God. I thought it was only because you could not endure the sight of me that…" She trailed off, embarrassed and upset, the weeks of hurt and humiliation rising fresh within her.

Geraint shook his head. "You’re as lovely as the summer sun. But… you know I’d meant to go into the Church, and would have save for the ambitions of my father and yours…"

"You’d already taken a vow of chastity, a vow to the Church," she said dryly, thinking that explained much. "But tonight you… we…"

"That’s not it," he said. "I’d meant to. Then, when visiting the priest in your own village, in Houghton, I met a woman…"

Lisette gasped. She knew now, knew why the shape she’d seen on the morn after May Day looked so familiar, knew the man who’d so tenderly touched the woman in the shadows by the church, and she knew where Geraint’s emerald ring had gone, the one that should have rested on her finger. She snatched her hand out of his.

Her voice low and shaking with wrath, she whispered, "You had a mistress. All I endured… for your mistress?"

"No. No," Geraint said urgently. "Not my mistress… my wife."

Lisette stood and turned away. She hugged herself tightly and tried to think.

"I married her on May Day eve," Geraint went on. "Before you and I were even betrothed. God help me, Lisette, but I loved her. I met her when studying with the priest. She’s his daughter. As the bastard child of a priest she had nothing, not even a name. You know as well as I there’s no money to come with my father’s Stafford name. His elder brother, the Duke, has all the wealth. My father only has a few titles, a second hand wife who’s too old to bear him any children… and me."

How many times since that May Day night, when she saw a star streak across the sky, had Lisette’s world been turned upside-down? Feeling faint, she backed up blindly to her trunk and sat down upon it. In the low firelight she could see Geraint’s eyes on her.

"I was trapped, Lisette," he said quietly, his voice raspy. "I had my duty to my father and family, and my duty to her, to my wife. I tried, truly I did, to speak to my father, but it was to no avail. He had to have that dowry your father was offering. I owed him that just as you owed, in obedience to your father, to marry me for the sake of the titles and position it brought to him."

"We were not truly wed," she breathed. When Ashur’s hands had been upon her, when she’d been teasing him with her touch, urging him onward, she’d been free. She had been free to love him and had turned him away because she thought she was not.

"We are truly wed… now."

"How?" she demanded.

"She… my wife… she’d dead, died of a fever, like Alyce."

"Typhus," Lisette whispered.

"Our vows are valid… now that the marriage has been consummated. I’m glad of it. I wanted to give that to you, to make up for these last weeks when I hurt you so. You can be at ease now, you and I are truly husband and wife."

The exertions of his confessions had been too much for Geraint. After a fit of coughing he fell into a stupor. Lisette sat unmoving upon the trunk. She wanted to laugh and cry and to scream. She looked up to the dark beams of the ceiling. Oh what cruel hand of fate was this? To learn she had been free to have the man she loved, to have Ashur, scant hours after the act that meant she was tied to Geraint forever.

Forever… Until death did part them. She found herself staring at Geraint’s face. He’d done what he thought was best, acting as he thought most right and honorable. He’d been trapped, as she was trapped, in plans and schemes and rules not of their own making.

Until death… if she didn’t intervene, he’d likely die as had Alyce, as had his wife, she gritted her teeth at the thought. If she raced off through the night to find Ashur to save him, she’d only be giving up that which she most wanted.

Lightning flared outside coupled with a resounding slam of thunder that shook the windows in their frames. God’s message? Geraint thrashed in the bed, opening his eyes to look at her. He smiled at her.

"I love you, my wife," he muttered, closing his eyes again. Did he mean her, or did he see the ghost of his first wife?

Dragging herself to her feet, Lisette reached for the coat. She’d do what was right, no matter the cost. She’d do her best to save her husband’s life.

Perhaps it was misery more than logic that drove Ashur forward toward his smashed ship. The pouring rain soaked him through. Lightning flared across the sky. He wondered if this was the tallest tree in the forest he leaned against.

Having had no indication of his pursuers anywhere near his ship in the hours he’d been keeping vigil, Ashur finally threw caution — or patience — aside and crept forward. He expected to be burned down at any moment but nothing happened save for wet branches slapping him in the face.

He reached the ship and examined the entrance carefully. Pulling out his pocket torch, he shone the beam over the ship. Everything seemed to be exactly as he’d left it. Inside the ship the subtle traps he’d left were undisturbed, save where the squirrel had scurried.

Again he tried all the systems and power sources on the ship. Nothing worked. Grateful to be out of the rain, Ashur sat down on the floor, and leaned against one of the toppled seats. They hadn’t been here. No one had been here. How, then, had they tracked him to Agnes’ house?

Ashur closed his eyes and listened to the patter of the rain on the hull. Lisette had seen what had to be a ship moving in a polar orbit. There was nothing natural in Earth’s sky in 1518 that moved that way. Then two men with the skill of wizards had gone to Agnes’ estate looking for him. They’d had power enough to overpower the entire staff, just as he’d been able to easily defeat the band of highwaymen. They had to be from his time, with his technology. They had to be his enemies.

He was sure they’d found his ship, that some residual trace from its power plant or battery systems had led them to it, and from there to Agnes’. It had taken them weeks, but it would have to, following him without the advantages of technology once they’d landed. It was reasonable. It was logical. And it was wrong.

So how had they tracked him?

Oh, God… Baby.

On his world, or any world in his time, her little trickle of power would be no more noticeable than a candle in a fusion blast. Here, however, that candle would be the only one in a great expanse of darkness. It would take time, it would be hard to lock onto, but eventually they’d find that candle… and Baby.

And Lisette.

Heedless of the rain and storm, Ashur leaped up and dashed out into the night.

Over the cap that covered her twisted braids, Lisette fit one of Geraint’s. The wide rim and thick velvet would shield her from the driving rain. Baby rested in a pouch slung over her shoulder. She’d taken a gown, shoes and proper hose and wrapped them tightly in the woolen cloak. Hopefully there’d be a canvas pouch, or leather saddle bags in the stable which would keep them dry.

With a last examination of Geraint, she took a deep breath and prepared to start out.

A bang startled her. It had not come with a flash of lightning, was not thunder. It was at the front door. Hurrying to the window, she wiped at the fog on the wavy glass. Flickering torches and angry voices came faintly to her. She wrenched at the window latch, pulling it open against reluctant hinges. A crowd was gathered below. Andrew had dropped his armful of wood against the still-closed door and was standing against it, loudly insisting they could not come in, that there was sickness here.

A female voice from the mob screeched, "It’s the witch that brought any sickness! Burn her and all will be well." Other voices joined in, shouting.

Lisette shrank back against the wall. A sick feeling rose in her and she felt cold. She knew that voice. It was the highwaymen’s half-witted woman, Jen, the one who’d gone into the stream. God’s teeth, she’d thought them all dead. If that woman had seen Ashur’s magical weapon of light slay her comrades…

The high-pitched voice rose over the din again. "And she calls up demons and spirits. I seen ‘em myself right in this house tonight."

Merciful God, that was the rustling outside the window she’d taken for a wild beast. This woman had seen Baby’s magic holograms. Lisette spun around, pressing her hand tightly to her mouth. From the bed Geraint was staring up at her with glassy eyes.

"I saw the demons too," he rasped. Oh, no, Lisette thought, she’d likely be able to defend herself against a half-witted prostitute and thief, all she need do was discredit the trollop and call upon the power behind the Stafford name. But if Geraint, in his fevered state, blurted out what he’d seen as well…

Ashur spoke of the fire he brought to burn a world. She’d burn in a fire as well.

"Wife," Geraint called quietly to her. "Flee, Lisette. Hurry away from here." He reached a hand up toward her. Lisette moved to his side and clasped his hand between both of hers.

"I’ll return, my husband. I’ll return with the medicines to make you well. I promise."

Releasing his hand, Lisette snatched up her bundle. As the cry of the servant was strangled off, Lisette ran toward the door. As she turned the latch the front door of the cottage was smashed inwards with a mighty crash.