The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1401: Uninvited Guests (Part Two)

"Your Worship," the leaner woman said, stepping forward with the kind of quiet intensity that suggested she was not someone who gave ground easily. "We don’t wish to cause Lady Jocelynn any distress. But we’ve heard that it’s tradition among the people of Blackwell for those who knew the departed to gather and drink to their memory, singing and sharing stories of their life to help the family in their grief."

Aubin’s bushy white eyebrows rose slightly at the comment. It had created a stir in the temple when he permitted Lady Jocelynn and her household to sing a sailor’s drinking song during Confessor Eleanor’s funeral.

Afterward, he’d met with the Templars from Blackwell to discuss the traditions of the county that stretched across dozens of islands beyond the shelter of Blackwell City’s famous harbor, and he’d learned a great deal from those men. He hadn’t expected, however, that conversations about something as obscure as a coastal county’s funeral traditions would reach the ears of ladies of the Lothian Court.

"Few people in this city knew Lady Ashlynn at all," the auburn-haired woman continued, pressing her advantage. "And those who did aren’t here to comfort her sister. If Lady Jocelynn is left to mourn alone this morning, with only her servants and a chapel full of empty pews for company, then the ladies of Lothian March have failed her."

"I buried my husband, Your Worship," she said after a brief pause, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter and almost fragile in its vulnerability. "I know what it’s like to grieve surrounded by people who are too afraid or too polite to sit with you and share your pain. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a young woman of her age who is about to become the wife of the most powerful man in the march."

Aubin studied the woman for a long moment, his gnarled fingers still resting against his beard. Lady Ragna Fayle knew struggle in a way that few of her peers ever would. The tragedy that struck her family when her husband died in the War of Inches had nearly toppled her household, and no one would have blamed her if she returned to her parents’ house to raise her young son in peace rather than fighting to preserve her late husband’s legacy.

Baroness Sorcha Iriso had also faced more than her share of struggles. Marriages between knights and commoners weren’t unusual in Lothian March. There were fewer than a hundred families of knights, and if they restricted themselves to marrying other members of the aristocracy, they’d soon find a shortage of eligible brides. But while it was common for a knight to marry a commoner, it was vanishingly rare for a baron to do so the way Wes Iriso had.

Yet for all the struggles that came with her marriage to Baron Iriso, Lady Sorcha had never once expressed regret for following her heart, and High Priest Aubin had come to respect the grounded perspective she brought to the Lothian Court in recent years.

Neither woman was here to play the kind of political games that the Saliou, Rundel, and LeGleau baronesses had been playing. He had offered counsel to both women often enough over the years to feel confident in his assessment of their character, and he found both of them to be good and godly women.

Which only made it harder for him to turn them away the way he’d turned away the other noblewomen who wanted to elbow their way into what should be a private moment of grief for a young woman who faced one of the greatest struggles Aubin had ever seen placed upon a woman’s shoulders.

"And what exactly are you proposing, Lady Ragna?" he asked with a heavy sigh.

"A small gathering," Ragna said. "Wine, bread, and the comfort of her peers. Nothing that would overwhelm Lady Jocelynn or turn Lady Ashlynn’s memorial into the sort of spectacle Marquis Bors will receive," she said in a tone that came dangerously close to being critical of the elaborate and expensive rituals that would be performed for the late marquis in a few days’ time.

"Just a few women from the court who want to sit with her and let her know she isn’t alone," she said as she gestured toward the chapel entrance behind her. "We’ve brought what we need. If Lady Jocelynn accepts, we’ll host a quiet wake after the memorial. If she refuses, we’ll leave our gifts and go without complaint. But we’d like the chance to ask her ourselves."

"And who else is part of this ’small gathering’?" Aubin asked, one eyebrow rising higher than the other. He’d turned away three baronesses already, but both of these ladies had arrived in Lothian City with a retinue of at least four or five knights, plus the other families who had yet to present themselves and all of their knights.

Even without the Saliou, Rundel, and LeGleau families and their retainers, a ’small gathering’ could easily spiral to dozens of ladies and a small army of servants to attend to them.

"Lady Charlotte Otker is waiting outside," Sorcha said, speaking for the first time in a while. "Along with Lady Adala Leufroy. A few attendants and servants to help with preparations, but no more," she said, spreading her work-roughened hands in a gesture of openness.

"We don’t want to turn this into a feast, Your Worship," the solidly built woman said. "Just a cup of wine and some kind words for a young woman who needs them."

Aubin let out a slow breath through his nose, ruffling his long mustache. He had promised Jocelynn privacy. For any other noblewoman, he might have been willing to bend before the pressure the two baronesses placed on him, even if that noblewoman happened to be the future marchioness. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

But Jocelynn was different. Jocelynn had received the final blessing of a confessor, and she still carried the faint, flickering aura of a woman touched by the Holy Lord of Light’s miracles. She wasn’t just a noblewoman; she was a woman whom the Holy Lord of Light had extended His Mercy and Protection to, and for whom He likely had great plans.

Aubin could read the stars well enough to know that there was a great change coming. He suspected that the Holy War would reshape the world in ways they had yet to understand and that Jocelynn had a part to play in all of it, whether she wanted to or not.

The High Priest might not be able to read the stars well enough to know what her role would be, and he dared not presume to guide her on her path, but he had already promised himself that he would offer up his remaining years to completing the work that Confessor Eleanor had started. Someone needed to watch over Lady Jocelynn if she was going to survive this moment of crisis, and since Eleanor Blackwell couldn’t, he would.

And yet, it was impossible to think that he could accomplish his task alone. He had few enough years remaining before it would be his turn to lie upon the pyre while others offered up their prayers to guide him on his way to the Heavenly Shores. So, perhaps what he needed to do was to help to surround Lady Jocelynn with other people who could take up the burden of supporting her when he no longer could.

He would have liked for those people to come from the Church, but after what Inquisitor Percivus had done to her, it was already a miracle that she’d come to accept his help. Perhaps this was for the best.

"Very well," he said at last. "But the decision is Lady Jocelynn’s, not mine, and not yours. When she arrives, I will explain the situation, and she will choose. If she asks you to leave, you will leave quietly and without argument. Are we agreed?"

"Agreed," Ragna said immediately.

"Agreed," Sorcha echoed.

Aubin gave them both a long, measuring look, then he turned to see Jocelynn standing in the doorway, the wooden chest clutched tightly in her arms, while her black mourning dress stood out starkly against the colorful interior of the Chapel of the Rising Sun.

Her pale seafoam eyes were wide, moving from Aubin to the two women and back again with the guarded alertness of someone who had learned to expect the unexpected and had stopped being pleased by it.

"Lady Jocelynn," Aubin said gently, crossing the chapel toward her with the slow, unhurried steps of a man who wanted her to know that everything was under control. "Please, come in. There’s something I need to discuss with you before we begin."