Keturah and Lord Death

I did the chores slowly. I scrubbed and polished the pots as if it were the only important work in the world. While making the beds, I stopped to smell the scent of Grandmother on the quilt. I dusted the dear rocker and swept the familiar floor. I touched the life I had known and, as I now understood it, the life I loved. This I felt in my heart: tomorrow I would not be what I was today.

We all lined the streets to wait for the king and his entourage. At last, as morning became noon, the king rode into the village while heralds blew their horns and were answered by flutes.

The king came first, and at his right was the royal messenger, Duke Morland, who had told us of the king’s intentions. At the king’s other side was Lord Temsland. The astonishment upon his face was equal to the fury on the face of the duke. Mixed with the duke’s anger was envy—it now appeared that when he and his cohorts had persuaded the king to banish Temsland to this corner of the kingdom, they had inadvertently rewarded him. The sun shone on the bay and the cottages dotted the hillside like flowers, and even the forest looked benign in the golden sunshine.

And then the bell began to ring and our hearts rose to see Lord Temsland’s joy as he passed a hand over his eyes. John Temsland and his mother rode to greet the party and then joined it. As they passed us, John leaned over to hand me a red rose. The girls around me tittered and offered me quick curtseys when I looked at them. Truly I was safe, just as Beatrice had said. I smiled at the girls and smelled my rose.

We all cheered and showered the royal party with flower petals. The horses’ hooves made a merry sound upon the new cobblestone road.

The lords who had come to gloat looked everywhere in dismay. Their countenances soured as they gazed upon our whitewashed cottages and the flowers that decorated every doorstep and pathway and gaily painted window box. They scowled at our cobblestone road and square, and stared morosely at our new pier and the gleaming bell in the church tower. They would not look into the faces of the people, so like flowers themselves in their bright clothes. Tailor’s children were brightest and prettiest of all.

The king and queen, on the other hand, beamed at our reception. Village girls walked before them, swirling long ribbons above their heads, and boys beat upon little tambourines. The king and his party slowed down when they came to the row of booths set up for the fair. Merchants bowed low as the king and queen passed.

Once they had passed they filed to the church, and Parson Tom welcomed them and all of us who had followed to the stairs of the chapel. Lord Temsland gave a speech.

“It is good to be home!” he announced with great good cheer. “If only I could tell you how very

good it is to be home,” he said, winking at us.

And then he became more sober. “And home it is indeed, I have learned. I have learned something else—that my son is ready to take on many of the responsibilities of a manored lord, and may well perform them better than I.”

At this, the people laughed and clapped, and John blushed to be praised. Lord Temsland, too, flushed at the enthusiasm of everyone’s agreement.

He continued, “I have learned that by opening the coffers, one obtains other treasures, and that …” He paused and looked about him. “Well, enough of speeches. Surely it is time for the fair to begin!”

This time the cheering was deafening.

Parson Tom raised his hand. “God bless this fair,” he pronounced then. “Let the fair begin.”

Someone began to play a pipe, and a few sang together.

I heard the king talking to Lord Temsland as a friend talks with another.

“Tomorrow we will hunt the great hart,” Lord Temsland said to the king. “He has evaded me for many years now, and has grown into a noble animal. He is as intelligent as he is large, helping other deer escape from traps, leading them to our haystacks when it was bitterly cold last winter. My arrows have not been able to find him, but surely yours will, Your Majesty.”

The king smiled and looked with longing toward the forest. “There is nothing I like more than a challenging hunt,” he said.

John and I exchanged a look.

“The hart cannot be caught, Father,” John said. “He is enchanted, perhaps. It would be better if we sought out a more likely target.”

The king frowned. “No beast escapes my arrow, once my heart is in it,” he said.

“Of course not!” Lord Temsland said, and then they both laughed, and the king put his hand on Lord Temsland’s shoulder.

I watched Parson Tom slump in his chair and promptly go to sleep. His goiter was larger than usual. One day soon he would sleep and not awake, his goiter having sucked the life out of him.

But I did not want to see such things today. I wanted the noise and music and laughter of the fair, and so I took Grandmother’s hand and plunged into the middle of it.