The Blight of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 2)

Another occasion – she recalled his blatant discomfort when speaking about Leerings and what the word actually meant. He had said that a leer was not a look of love, that he had seen wretcheds and knights stare at each other in that way. Another reference to Dieyre and their enmity at Billerbeck Abbey? Dieyre did not wear any of the maston symbols. It seemed an obvious conclusion that he had never passed the tests. Colvin had tensed the moment his voice startled them.

When she reached the cloister, she rapped firmly on the porter door. The porter, Guerney, answered it brusquely.

“It is wet enough to flood and chilly to boot, Lia,” he said with a wince. “You are sopping. Be a good lass and dry off in the kitchen.”

“And while I am there, fetch you a tart?” she replied with a grin. “You are a lazy man. Tell the Aldermaston I need to speak with him.”

“I will. You can wait indoors here out of the rain, but do not sit on my chair. That would leave a mark on the cushion.” He unlocked the door and let Lia inside the small porter room and withdrew a ring of keys. He locked the porter door then unlocked one of the two gates leading into the inner grounds, exited, then locked it again. Passage within the cloister was limited to the learners and the teachers because of the value of the precious aurichalcum they worked with. A single tome was worth a hefty ransom in gold, which was why only the wealthy could afford to be learners. The ancient tomes of the Abbey were stored in the vaults within the cloisters, behind iron gates protected by keymasters and the porters. Lia peered into the gardens at the center of the cloister, watching Guerney traverse beneath the protected walkway at the edge of the square-shaped garden. He unlocked a door at the far end and went inside.

There was a square fountain in the center of the garden, with a Leering in the center in the shape of seven maidens kneeling before a knight-maston. She wondered what it symbolized and determined to ask Duerden if she could remember it later. Within a few moments, Guerney was shuffling back towards the porter gate, shaking his head. His hair was streaked with gray and he was missing a tooth in the front.

The keys rattled in the lock and he shook his head, muttering to himself. “On with you, lass. The Aldermaston will see you.”

“What?” Lia said, surprised. No wretched was allowed inside the cloister.

“Do not gawk, lass. I asked twice to be sure. He is the Aldermaston. Go on, we do not have all day.”

Lia followed him into the cloister, unsure how to feel about the privilege or the fact that she was sopping wet. All her life she had walked by the cloister, staring at its windowless walls. Sometimes she heard laughter from the garden or the fountain splashing. But she had never ventured inside before. The Aldermaston had never let her.

“Strange days,” Guerney said. “That Queen Dowager – she is a beauty, is she not? Have you met her?”

“I did,” Lia replied. “She arrived last night.”

“That she did. What a stir she is causing. Everyone is gawping at her, especially the learners. She is with the Aldermaston now.”

Lia thought that was interesting and felt her stomach flutter with anticipation. “Is she?”

“As if the Abbey is her domain. I do not like her mother tongue, though. Those Dahomeyjan cannot be trusted despite their fair looks. A fair face and a foul soul, is what I think. Like Reome. Reminds me of her.”

They reached the inner door to the cloister and Guerney unlocked the door. “I will let you out when you are done. Blast the skies, there is someone else knocking at the porter door. Cannot folk tell it is raining today? The nuisance. Be a good lass, Lia.” He held the door for her as she entered and then shuffled back the way they came.

Lia stood at the threshold of the study room and was surprised by the shocked expressions that met her. But she quickly ignored the few faces and stared in awe at what she beheld. The cloister was a series of interconnected square rooms that formed a larger square around the garden. Leerings for light were engraved into the stone walls at each corner, the walls and ceiling filled with sculpted friezes and paintings, including the ceiling. On each wall were giant oak shelves, massive and sturdy with ladders fitted with hooks to reach the higher shelves. The walls glittered with golden tomes, eight stacks high. Interspersed throughout each room were big altar-like tables, also made of polished oak, where learners stood to study the tomes and engrave in their own. How many tomes did the cloister contain, she wondered. How many hundred?

“What are you doing here, Lia?” Marciana asked, suddenly at her side. Lia stared at the walls, the paintings, trying to fill her eyes with the sight of it all. If she had felt jealous simply walking around it, the feeling inside her was keener, more like starvation. The value of the rooms astounded her. The sheer magnitude of it dwarfed her comprehension.