Carnelian

Chapter 3

Sir James graciously accepted Maid Willow's clumsy aid, answered her many questions. That she would one day be beautiful was evident, but more so than that, he found her to be a gentle soul, a sweet spirit that was easy to adore.

Though difficult, her questions were never full of malice. Sir James answered them as honestly as he had answered her noble sister's questions, though he did his best to keep his answers gentle and appropriate for a maid of just eight years old. This information, she had volunteered. Anything else he knew about her, Sir James either learned or guessed from conversation. She loved the Brownies, loved trees and animals so that her knowledge on these topics seemed inexhaustible. Her visits were the bright spots in Sir James' days. Five times she visited him, bringing not only water and food, but also sips of herbal preparations designed to ease his pain. In addition, she brought conversation and companionship as well, a presence that brightened his soul and lifted the unrelieved boredom of his imprisonment, for during those times between her visits, he saw not a single other living soul, human or otherwise.

Often with Maid Willow on her visits, the Maid Veronica served as the child's companion. That the two maids were sisters was an unmistakable fact, for they greatly resembled each other and to a lesser degree their mistress, the Lady of the Deep Wood. Sir James accepted the idea of a relationship between the sisters and their mistress out of hand, for noblewomen were often served by lesser-born family members, much the same way he might one day have served his father or elder brother, apart from his present circumstances. Both maids wore some of the same stones as their mistress, the unpolished quartz on their left shoulders, the gems in their hair and on each wrist. Unlike their mistress, however, the two young maids wore no greater stone on their brows, nor any at their throat, save to close the cloaks that protected the maids from both weather and prying eyes. Glaringly obvious, even to the lesser-born noble, was the lack of any ruby in the young maids' arrays. While they served the lady and wore a wealth of jewels, neither maid was nobly bred.

Though sisters and of kindred face, the two maids were as unlike in preference and manner as day and night. While Maid Willow dressed after the fashion of Brownies in sturdy clothing designed for hard work, dyed in earth tones and cut to shed the weather, Maid Veronica's style of dress stood in sharp contrast. Maid Veronica wore much lighter, more feminine gowns cut after the same fashion of the Lady of the Deep Wood. The cloth of her gowns was of a much lighter weight, almost gauzy in nature, and dyed brightly so that she greatly resembled a patch of flowers. Having seen the Fairy who'd spoken to his horse, Sir James could accurately compare Maid Veronica's sartorial tastes to that of Fairy-kind.

Where Maid Willow was charming and friendly toward him, it hurt the young knight to see how mistrustful and timid Maid Veronica was of him. Sir James wondered who had authored such a fear of her own kind and did his best to speak kindly to her, though she never spoke a word to him in return. Seeing the fear in her expressive eyes, Sir James wished with all of his heart that he could find whoever had so tormented her and bring him to justice. Something terrible must surely have happened to her, for the Maid Veronica to be so afraid of him and not any of the magical creatures that inhabited the Enchanted Forest. He wondered if it were merely himself that the maid feared or all men in general but, having been given no leave to ask questions of his own, the knight's curiosity would remain unassuaged.

The times betwixt Maid Willow's visits gave the young knight much time for though, for self-examination. Standing immobilized and in his own filth, his emotions ran the gamut; at first, angry, then despairing, until he'd come to accept his punishment. Sir James was a knight, sworn to service in the baron's household, sworn to obey the king's laws, to uphold and defend the Holy Church, to protect the poor and innocent, sworn to speak only truth, to act with honor and to fight with valor. Yet standing in such a prison, there was no valor; no glorious death to be had in battle, no deathbed with his hair hoary with age and loved ones gathered about for comfort. There were only ribs so badly broken that it hurt to breathe, insect bites that could not be prevented nor scratched, legs and feet that cramped and swelled with no means for him to relieve them, a sword-arm bereft of a sword, a jaw that, while not broken, was still tender enough for it to hurt when he chewed, blackened eyes, whose swelling blurred what could be seen, and an arm infected and throbbing with every beat of his heart.