Content notes: transphobia (implied and referenced), reference to transphobic violence, misogyny
(Sorry for the short episode today, folks.)
Since hiding had done no good, John cleaned up the armory and went to the tower walk. The Anglish, John had learned since coming here, had a fierce love for their mountains. Looking at the mountains’ silhouettes outlined in starlight, he could almost understand why. It reminded John of looking at the sea — vast beyond human comprehension. It had been old when the Ancestors came to this world and would remain long after humans left again.
The mountains — like the sea — had no concept of loyalty and betrayal. No secrets, no matter what some claimed. They were what they were, and if something of them surprised the humans who lived on and among them, that was a failure of human vision, not mountainous deception.
Secrets hurt.
Mildthryth’s intervention had helped. John had not been forced to choose between refusing Reimund and keeping Helen’s secret. But he knew how close that had come, that Reimund — his friend and lord — was aware of what had almost happened. Would, even then, be questioning what secret John was keeping and why. Perhaps doubting his faith in John.
Silence came at a cost, one John had only begun to pay. What had it cost Helen to maintain her secret for nearly a year?
John stared out over the dark mountains and let them soothe his soul. Tomorrow would be another day.
Helen was sewing up the rip in her favorite shirt when Beth poked her. “What?”
“Lady Mildthryth wants an escort for a ride. You’re up.”
Since the king had given Lord Reimund his blessing, there had not been a single attack on Oak Haven. But all the Anglish remembered those long, draining months of endless attacks and ever-weakening defenses. The lord and lady no longer rode out with a full squad every time they left the keep, but they never went alone. Still, Helen suspected there was a reason beyond safety that she was being sent to ride guard on the lady this morning.
With a sigh, Helen put away her half-repaired shirt and headed for the armory. A short time later, she followed Lady Mildthryth out the gate and into the high meadow that sat in clear view of the burg.
Once there, the lady dismounted and left her mount’s reins with Helen while she pulled out several bags and began gathering the flowering fleabane that was almost at its peak. Helen was surprised — usually gathering fleabane was a task for servants, or if Lady Mildthryth did take part, it was because she and Wulfrun had decided to make a burg-wide holiday of it and bring everyone out to harvest and picnic together. Clearly, Lady Mildthryth wanted time alone and was using the fleabane as an excuse. Helen was afraid to find out why the lady had wanted to be alone.
When the lady said nothing for several minutes, Helen thought she might have gotten clear. But when the first bag was half full, Lady Mildthryth came back to where Helen remained mounted and on guard. The lady asked, “Are you alright?”
Helen stopped herself from giving the reflexive ‘Of Course.’ Lady Mildthryth had not only accepted Helen, but she had kept Helen’s secret from her lord and husband. Helen owed her honesty at the least.
“I don’t know. I’m not injured, but I’m…. it feels like the ground isn’t solid under me.” She swallowed. “They all nearly found out. In the hall, in front of everyone… If Sir John hadn’t…”
Lady Mildthryth hmm’d. “Sir John knows, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
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