Sides of War

Chapter Ten: Wine

The next evening, Jorlin, after finding men's clothing in the bottom of her wardrobe and changing into them, rushed down to the second floor before anyone could see her. Ancis was already waiting for her, holding a balled-up surcoat. She held out her hand, but he didn't make a move to give it to her.

"You have to make sure they don't see who you are," he said.

"Yes, of course," she replied, somewhat annoyed, still holding out her open hand.

He placed it on a nearby table and fetched a chainmail tunic from the wall. She quietly let him slip it on over her clothes. Her legs felt strange without a dress; it would take some getting used to. The mail was heavier than she expected, but she said nothing about it. The links of metal rings fell above her knees and ended before her elbows. While Ancis found the other armor components, Jorlin put on the faded purple surcoat, then fastened a belt over it, which helped to take away some of the weight of the mail. The page buckled on a pair of vambraces, and then she put on a pair of leather gloves. Finally, he fit a simple helmet over her head, which concealed most of her face.

When she tucked her braid of hair inside the helm, Ancis said, "You look as convincing as any castle guard."

Even though she didn't admit it out loud, Jorlin didn't anticipate the weight of the metal fastened to her body, or how much her breathing and sight would be restricted. Wordlessly, she strode over to the weapons rack and tied her favorite sword to her belt, her armor clinking loudly.

"Come," he urged, "the guard shift will be soon." He led her out of the room.

The climb up the stairs was difficult, and by the time she reached the top the air inside her helm had grown hot. The chink of the chainmail echoed off of the dimly lit walls and stopped when she came to a halt. Ancis ran ahead to get rid of one of the guards while she waited at the top of the stairwell. Several minutes later, he returned and nodded at her.

"Good luck," he whispered.

"Thanks," she muttered. Her voice sounded strange behind the metal plates.

Jorlin advanced down the hall, and at the end there stood a solitary guard on one side of the doors leading to Clovis's chambers. She took her place on the opposite side of the doors and mimicked the soldier's stance. It was nearly ten minutes before she heard the sound of footsteps and voices, announcing Slater and Clovis's arrival. Her heart thudded in her chest. This was it. She stood a bit taller once they came in view.

"...without too much trouble," Clovis said, slowly coming around the bend in the hallway. Slater, much taller by his side, took short steps to keep pace with him. "And I don't think the serfs have yet acquired their quota of goods for this month. See to it that they do."

"Yes, sir," came Slater's reply.

She clenched her teeth. They were both so irksome. Being merely an observer was harder than she expected.

As they approached, the other guard reached to open the large door on his side. Jorlin opened the one on her side simultaneously, the two men striding inside without a glance at them. She copied the other guard and stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her.

In the center of the room stood a table burdened with enough food for at least three people. Two servants stood nearby, jugs of wine in their hands and ready to refill the goblets. An iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, several bright candles atop it, and there was a large fireplace built into the stone wall that blazed, heating the room and filling it with golden light. Lavish furniture adorned the room. Jorlin knew enough of her uncle not to be surprised by the luxuries of his chambers.