Madam Clara. I couldn’t believe it was her. There’s a few more strands of grey in her black hair but her eyes were still that-
Madam Clara. I couldn’t believe it was her. There’s a few more strands of grey in her black hair but her eyes were still that grand shade of emerald. After a decade, this fierce member of my household remained just as strong and vibrant as always.
The last I saw her; she wore that linen dress with a stained apron over it. Now she appears to be in much finer clothing. Something has changed.
Before I could utter a single word, Clara came up to me and wrapped her arms around me so tightly I felt my spine click. My tutor once told me women are not as physically strong as men, clearly, he never had a loving mother.
When the lady loosened her grip and recoiled from me, I looked upon my former governors with a resurgent happiness.
“Madam Clara,” I said addressing the woman before me.
As she heard my voice, a tear ran down her cheek until it reached the bottom of her chin. She looked me up and down, examining every inch of my attire, and stopped when she returned her eyes to my face. She noticed the scar just above my left eye and it was then her smile started to buckle. Placing her right hand on the side of my head, she began to rub her thumb along the score, the stretched from the top of my forehead down to the gap in my eyebrow.
“What happened to you?”
Unintentionally, I smirked at her question. Over the last ten years so much has happened I wasn’t sure where to begin. Not to mention the things I probably shouldn’t discuss in the public. Carefully removing her hand from the side of my head, I brought it down to her side and let it slip away from my grasp.
“Life as an adventurer has many risks,” I replied calmly.
I briefly look over to the house once more, and I’m curious about the guards.
“Clara,” I start with, “who are these guardsmen? What are they doing at the house?”
Clara proceeded to wrap her hand around mine and interlocked our fingers.
“You should come inside immediately. I know someone who will be glad to see you.”
Clara begins to walk back towards the house softly pulling me with her. Unwilling to resist, I do as she instructs without objection as the two of us head towards the door, the guards begin to step aside and allow us to enter. Needing to enter without any delay I was, is the urge to smile smugly at these men.
Passing through the doorway back inside my childhood home, it startled me to see what has changed, and what hasn’t. Much of the wooden floors in the high ceilings, pretty much the same along with the old iron work fittings, nailed into the walls. I also noticed some paintings which were not here before. Perhaps father purchased them before his untimely demise. I walk up to the closest one I can find, and it wasn’t what I expected. The first one I found was a large landscape painting depicting, a great hall. With hundreds of people inside. These people seem to be dancing, drinking and fighting with one another while surrounded by opulent feast, with all the trimmings placed upon long tables.
In the middle of this chaotic sea people stands a small troop of men and women, some in armour, and others in robes, appearing to stand on guard, as if they are fighting for their lives. Father never appreciated fine art and his true interests were within the annals of history.
Considering this painting depicts a historic event perhaps that is the reason.
“When did my father acquire this painting?” I ask Clara, without looking away from the work of art.
She doesn’t answer right away and proceeds to close the front door, and then bolting it behind her. After the light tapping of the word against the door frame followed by the heaving of the iron bolt slotting into place, Clara, take a few steps towards me and then stopped.
“The madness of Etherwood Hall? Two years before the incident, I believe.”
The word, she used only piqued my curiosity and drew me from the painting. Cautiously, turning around towards Clara, I look at her, and I noticed that she is crossing her arms. While looking at the painting some of the colour appeared to drain from her face. As her eyes meet mine for just a moment, she then glanced away.
“What incident are you referring to?”
Clara doesn’t answer my question. Instead, she appeared to let arms hands unlock and proceed to use one hand to cautiously rub her neck. Doing everything in her power not to look at me.
“Perhaps it is best that you were to ask your brother about this matter.”
Clara came from a hard-working family. Free generations of cobblers who worked tirelessly and were not easily dissuaded from difficult tasks. My grandmother brought her on as a scullery maid and even she was impressed by the then young woman’s determination. Even when she was appointed as my governess, she was never afraid of telling me right from wrong, and what I should, and shouldn’t do. However, to see her anxious about discussing a serious matter, seemed unsettling to me. With her hands suggested toward the stairs at the far end of the entry hall. I went on to follow behind her as she went on.
“Carla, why are they guards outside the house?” I asked as I followed.
She didn’t look back, but instead focused on stepping onto the stairs. The aged oak boards creaked ever so slightly as she put her weight on them.
“Your brother is receiving a visitor in his study. Someone of great importance.”
I remembered what the guards were wearing and the quality of their armour, “I take it someone of importance being someone of high office, no?”
“It is best you ask your brother about this.”
To be continued....
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