Free shadow and lace by Teresa Medeiros Page B

pouring through the arrow slits: The great hall of Caerleon stood at the base of a square tower three times as large as all of Revel-wood. A vaulted ceiling loomed high above. A faint draft stirred a crested banner suspended from the oaken beams.
    Swallows darted like shadows between the massive beams. Ardendonne's hall seemed a cottage dwelling compared to this, and Revelwood fit only for swine and dogs. Sunlight drifted through the open door. Carved chairs and tables littered the floor with no apparent pattern to their arrangement.
    Rowena picked her way along the wall, dodging table legs and chair backs. Her foot caught in the foreign fabric of an Oriental rug. By the time she reached the kitchen, Marlys was cheerfully polishing off the last of the porridge.
    "Too late, love," she said at Rowena's crestfallen expression. "Dreadfully sorry." A smile gleamed between her matted strands of hair.
    Rowena slid onto a bench and folded her hands on the empty table. A wizened man close to seven feet tall ducked through the kitchen door with an armload of wood. Rowena scooted backward as he dumped the wood on the table in front of her.
    "Gridmore," Marlys grunted. "Dunnla's husband. He is as blind as she is deaf. If I were you, I should move. He thinks you are the fire. You've probably been stoked well enough after a night with Gareth."
     
    Gridmore turned on Rowena, poker in hand. Rowena ducked and slid down the bench. He jabbed at the air a few times before the poker found the hearth.
    Marlys lapped at the inside of her wooden bowl. "My mind reels at the vision of their antics in the marriage bed. Mayhaps she folds him up and slips him in the cupboard each night."
    Marlys jumped guiltily as Dunnla shuffled up behind her and bellowed, "Eating again, Lady Marlys. I see you've finished yesterday's porridge. Sir Gareth ordered some fresh made for Lady Rowena."
    Dunnla clunked a bowl on the table in front of Rowena. Marlys's visible eye glared at her as Rowena dipped a spoon into the steaming goodness, not caring if she burned her tongue. She swallowed the creamy mush and licked her lips, refusing to bite back a grin. Marlys slammed her spoon on the table, sending bits of barley flying.
     
    Throughout the next few days, Rowena came to regret every spoonful of that porridge. Marlys proved to have a long memory.
    Her writing lessons consisted of Marlys pacing beside the table while Rowena struggled to form the letters of her name on scraps of parchment. Marlys would pause only long enough to tweak Rowena's ear or poke her with the tip of the quill when she thought Rowena stupid. Rowena fancied herself terribly stupid. Her arms remained dotted with ink and her ears bright red all the day long. Trying to peep beneath Marlys's hair earned her an especially vicious jab. Rowena always jumped when Marlys jerked out her dagger to scrape another blunder from the page. Suppose the churlish creature confused quill and blade and stabbed her?
    One afternoon after Rowena had spelled her own name
Wenrona
for the third time, Marlys boxed her ears and drove all the parchments into the floor with a sweep of a gauntleted hand. "I'm weary of teaching a lackwit to write. The time has come for you to learn something useful."
    Afraid to even speculate on what Marlys might consider useful, Rowena tripped after her charging path down the stairs and into the beckoning sunlight of the list. Marlys's hunched shoulders disappeared in a crude wooden chest set against the bailey wall. She rummaged through the chest, humming a melody of grunted curses. Rowena ducked as a rusty helm went sailing past her head. She picked it up, running her fingers over the crusted visor.
    Marlys reappeared, wielding two long poles, their ends blunted by a conflict long forgotten. "These would never do for a proper joust, but they'll do for you. We'd best abandon the list for the forest. If Gareth finds me tilting instead of teaching, there will be a beating in it for both of us." She