Chapter 124: Then why don't you hate me?

The place where the lady goes during this retirement is referred to as “The Dower house.” Which is often a smaller house, still on the Lord's lands, often close to the castle, if not part of the castle itself in times of war. The lady, who might have been a countess or a Baroness or Duchess, would now attach the extra title of “Dowager,” to the front of a title, so the widow of a Duke would be referred to as “The Dowager Duchess,” so that everyone knows who she is. She is given her own servants, often those who she was closest to in her original residence. Again so that the new lady of the manor can establish herself.

In the case of the Kalayn lands. The Dowager Countess, (the matter of my brothers title was still up in the air. People were arguing over it, saying that the Coulthard family were becoming too large for our own good. Soon, upon my marriage to Ariadne, I would be called the Count of Angral which is now a “real” title rather than just a reduction because of the realm of Angraal. Sammy was about to inherit the title of Count from our Uncle and the “Barony” of Coulthard is one of, if not “the” by now given my sisters open management of the lands, richest barony's in the north. Easily richer than what my lands and Sam's lands are put together. But the thing that sticks in their craw most of all is the fact that Sam is inheriting the title of “Count”. Not the land, or the money, it's the title that upsets these people.

I got nothing.

But anyway)

The Dowager Countess lives in a small house, maybe an hours ride away from the castle and we resolved to ride out in the morning. There was a little bit of an uproar that Kerrass had refused to allow anyone to accompany him on his first foray into the castle with Father Hacha loudly declaring that it was simply “outrageous that good and decent churchmen should be dictated to by a Witcher,” and that went about as well as you could expect.

But in the end it was agreed that I would ride to the Dower-house with Sam and Father Danzig. Not that Father Danzig particularly needed to come on this family expedition but we thought it might do the common folk some good to see soldiers of a “good” God patrolling the roads that weren't going to just burn them on sight on the assumption of heresy. Rickard's Bastards were off patrolling the woods to “see what's out there,” and do some hunting.

The Dowager Countess, Aunt Kalayn, reminded me of my Grandmother. I don't know why given that she was actually nothing like my own Grandmother. It was a clash of opposites. This woman was substantially older than mother was as my uncle had married her for the money rather than for any physical attractiveness or age. She had already been a widow when she had married into the Kalayn family from one of the other older families of the North. She was about the same age as my father's mother had been when her husband, my Grandfather, had died. Which is why, I assume, I found myself comparing the two. It was a useless comparison really as they were nothing alike. Absolutely nothing alike.

You can find old women like my paternal Grandmother all over the north. Tiny little old women that are built like a barrel and look as though they're going to go on forever. At her tallest, she came up to my shoulder, a shock of white hair on top of her head which she cut short on the grounds that the long whispy threads kept getting into her eyes. She had been a farmer's wife before she had risen to the gentry and she ruled her manor house in the same way that she had ruled her farm house which meant that she ruled it with a smile made from steel.

No-one crossed my Grandmother when she put her mind to it, least of all my father and Grandfather. She had survived to see us moving into what is now Castle Coulthard and would admit that she struggled with the fact that she wasn't allowed to cook any more. She used to get a real kick out of making cakes and other treats that she would insist, much to Father's annoyance, on feeding to her Grandchildren.

She died when I was eleven. Only slowing down in her last month before she died. This was before the “dower house” had been properly renovated and so she had still lived in the castle itself. She was still up and out of bed long before the rest of us and drove the rest of the castle's occupants to distraction by insisting on being involved in every aspect of castle life. She used to tell the grooms how to care for the horses before they would turn around to find my Grandmother, in all of her finery, shovelling manure with the rest of them. She would go into the kitchens and be helping peeling vegetables having to have the peel picked out of her dresses.

But, and here's the important part of it, the way she did it would put the rest of the castle's occupants at their ease. She wasn't nobly born and she knew it, as did everyone else and she never pretended to be anything other than what she was. The castle-folk loved her for that.

Another slight proof against Sir Rickard's theory of the common folk liking to keep the classes separate. He would argue that the exceptions are so marked as to almost prove the rule.

She was absolutely indomitable. Father would try to talk to her about the “proper conduct of a lady”. Grandma would listen carefully, ask a few questions and then, just as carefully, ignore everything that Father would say. When Father would call her on this she would come back with this piece of effortless wisdom.

“You're never too old for me to give you a clip round the ear my lad,” before wandering off and making some kind of fruit pie that would be served to guests with glee.

It was uncanny. To the young child in me it seemed as though she was immune to any kind of reprisals. Instead of getting angry, Father would laugh.

To the young child in me, it was like being told that “the eternal frost” meant that the world would get a bit chilly. She was just this small, iron haired old lady that seemed as though she was indestructible. I honestly believed, as a child, that if she decided to walk across a battle field when she was in one of her “stomping moods” which meant that she was cross about something and had decided that “something needed to be done about it”. I honestly believed that armies would get out of her way.

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The other thing about her was that she didn't seem to age. She was roughly the same size and shape in my earliest memories of her as she was the day she died. The only sign of her ageing was the fact that her hair changed from steel geay to white over the course of years.

She was also fascinated by everything that happened. When Emma was still a little too young to be interested in my school work it was my Grandmother that I went to. The things that Father would tell her about the proper behaviour of a noble-women, it wasn't that she wasn't listening. She was fascinated by the subject. She had questions and one memorable time, she turned up to the dinner table with a scroll full of questions that she had jotted down on the subject. As I say, she listened carefully and asked searching questions until Father was done at which time she looked down at her notes and declared in a proud and happy voice that “all of that sounded a bit silly really,” and that “she would be having none of it.”

I miss my Grandmother. I would love for her to have met Ariadne.

This woman though, this Aunt Kalayn was so starkly different that it was....honestly....remarkable. Same age. If anything, Aunt Kalayn was younger than Grandmother was when we moved into the castle.

But if I hadn't known that fact, then I would have guessed that Aunt Kalayn was ancient.

Something to be said about that I suppose.

The dower house wasn't really that much to look at. The nicest thing that could really be said about it was that it had a nice view attached to the gardens which we could see as we rode up. It was not a good first impression as it looked rather overgrown to my eyes and sorely in need of some care. The house itself was fairly large, the same kind of thing that you could expect to find in a more upmarket district of Novigrad and you reached it by going down a long avenue of fir trees. I found it an odd decoration as the entire countryside was covered in Fir trees so that if you really wanted to display your wealth you would put out Oak or Elm trees.

But still.

When we arrived, there was little sign of any activity. One of the church soldiers dismounted and knocked on the door to inform the lady of the house that we wished to visit. There didn't seem to be any stables so, again, a couple of the soldiers acted as squires and grooms to take our horses off us. Sam ordered that they remain saddled. He didn't look happy about the entire thing and my guess was that he didn't intend to stay very long which was absolutely fine by me.

In the end, Father Danzig, Sam and I were shown into a small room with a few chairs by an elven woman. She looked a little thin to me, even for the fact that she was an elf and she glared at us all suspiciously. Despite the Kalayn colours that she wore. She informed us that the Lady of the house was still getting dressed and that she would be with us shortly. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

We were not offered tea while we waited.

The lady that was helped into the room by the Elven woman was old. I mean really old. This is one of those things where age isn't a measurement of the passing of the time. I mean this in the way of.... She was walking with a cane and still needed to be supported by the servant. It was one of those situations where Father Danzig and I immediately leapt to our feet. Not out of respect but so that we could help her into her seat and to see whether we could do anything to help her.

Sam was by the window and was coming over but then he saw Aunt Kalayn brandish her cane in a threatening manner towards us both and beat a strategic withdrawal.

Sensible man my brother.

It was just going through my head, over and over, that this woman was the same age that my Grandmother had been when I was ten.

She was frail, almost skeleton like in her appearance. It was painful to look at. Her hair was immaculate however and her dress was precisely worn. In fact, that was a good way to describe her. She was precise about everything. She was missing several teeth and her eyes would wander about the place as though she was looking for something to talk about.

She walked over to the chair where Father Danzig had been sat and glared at the fact that his travelling cloak had been laid over the back of the chair.

In his defence, there wasn't anyone there who had offered to take our cloaks so we had just taken them with us.

Father Danzig quickly scurried over and rescued his cloak from the old woman's ire.

I say again, I wouldn't normally describe someone using only their age but in this case, the age was a relevant factor. She looked old, she sounded and behaved old. The entire atmosphere felt old as if we were in an old woman's company.

She sat down and sort of glanced around the room as though she was trying to remember what she was doing there, or reminding herself that she was exactly where she was supposed to be and that this was indeed, her house.

Eventually her eyes settled on Father Danzig.

“And who might you be?” She asked.

“Umm,” his eyes slid sideways to the two of us. “My name is Knight Father Danzig of the church of Kreve and I have the honour of presenting....”

“Has anyone offered you tea?”

“My Lords Samue...er....what?”

She bridled. “Does the priesthood have no manners in the modern world?”

“Uh...” His face lit as he hit upon a way that he could get himself out of this. “I was endeavouring to introduce my companions.”

“Mmm,” she stared into space for a while before a thought visibly struck her. “So have you been offered tea.”

“Uh...no, no we haven't.”

She sighed. “Oh dear. Well I'm so sorry, I shall see to it directly while you get on with your business.”

She started to struggle to her feet, using the cane as leverage which of course meant that we all had to leap to our feet to assist her.

“My husband will be right with you I'm sure.” She said as she almost got to her feet. Fortunately we were saved from the disaster by the Elven Maid who was at the old lady's elbow whispering in her ear. I didn't catch much but it sounded like she was reassuring the old woman that she would call the servants to get the tea and that the lady should stay seated. She tried to remind Aunt Kalayn that her husband had died which Aunt Kalayn seemed to have absorbed as she sat back down.

“Ah yes, of course.” She laughed and the sound surprised me by being remarkably musical. “How silly of me to forget.”

She bestowed her most benign look on the three of us. “You'll have to forgive me,” she said. “Memory like a sieve these days.”

We nodded sympathetically.

The Elven maid glared at us as she left on her mission to fetch the tea. I don't entirely know what she was trying to tell us but we all nodded acceptance of the message.

We all sat in silence for a few moments as we waited for the next part of the conversation to start. It wasn't helped by the fact that Aunt Kalayn was looking at each of us with just as much confusion as we were feeling looking at her.

“So?” she said after a while. “Who are you?”

“Well,” Knight Father Danzig rose to the occasion, feeling as though he finally had proper permission to speak. “My name is knight Father Danzig of the church of Kreve and it is my honour to present your nephews. Lord Samuel von Coulthard and new Lord Kalayn, who has been named as heir to your late husband on the unhappy event of his death.”

We had had several conversations about this given that Sam's title hadn't been ratified yet and so we had decided on the non-committal title of “Lord” Kalayn.

“And his brother Lord Frederick von Coulthard.” Danzig's voice began to falter as he came to the end of this statement. The old woman was glaring at Sam with a hatred that looked as though it would scorch the grassland.

“You,” she hissed. “You dare to show your face here.”

Sam swallowed. We had briefly discussed the possibility of Aunt Kalayn not being happy to see one of us but we had thought that she would be forced, by good manners if nothing else, to tolerate our presence. But it seems that the manners and societal rules that govern us all are not as prevelant in the older generation.

I was shocked. If there had been anyone that we expected to make her angry, we had rather assumed that it would be me, given that I had been the one responsible for the deaths of her son and husband.

“After everything that has happened,” she went on. “After everything that I have seen and you come here as though you own the place. As though you have some kind of hold over me.”

Sam carefully rose from where he had sat down.

“With all due respect, Aunt. I rather think that I do own the place and I would thank you to....”

“You own nothing.” The old woman snapped. “Everything you have, we gave you. Everything you rule, you rule on our sufferance. You have no rights here. No authority.”

Her eyes blazed and I began to see a shadow of what she must have been like when she had been younger.

“You are nothing but a little weasel that scurries around under the tables and behind the walls, stealing the scraps from the dogs as though you have a right to them. You are nothing.”

She was breathing heavily and I started to grow concerned.

“After everything you've done.” She continued, spitting the words at Sam as though she was driving daggers into his chest. “After everything you've seen and every, awful act that you have perpetrated. You dare to show your face here. You dare?”

Sam had gone pale. Fortunately, just as he was opening his mouth to speak, the door opened and the Elf came in with a tray of drinks which she laid out on a small table which seemed intended for the purpose.

Instantly, the old woman subsided. It was as though she had placed a mask back over her face and she was instantly the slightly doddery old woman. I tried to search the slightly watery eyes to see if I could identify any remnants of the angry, bitter old woman that I had just seen a moment before.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. If it wasn't for the rattling of the cup and saucer that betrayed Sam's agitation as he accepted a drink from the servant, I wouldn't have believed that anything had happened. Father Danzig was peering at Aunt Kalayn intently. When I asked him later he was doing the same as I was, trying to ascertain whether this entire old woman thing was an act.

But it couldn't have been. No-one's that good an actress.

“Milady,” I began tentatively after taking a small sip of my herbal tea. “May I ask a question?”

“Mmm?” She absolutely sounded as though she hadn't realised that I had spoken.

“Who do you think this man is?” I gestured at Sam.

“Why, he's Lord Kalayn, my husband's heir.” She began to show signs of some distress, confusion and wonderment crossed her face. The maid, after depositing and serving the tea had sat on a stool at her mistresses right hand. At the sound of the confusion in Aunt Kalayn's voice, she leant forward so that she could see into the old woman's eyes.

“Remember,” The Elf said, firmly and forcefully. “These are your nephews. Your sister in law's sons.”

“Ah yes, of course they are. I forget you see. I remember you now.”

I wasn't in the least bit convinced that she had remembered us at all.

“Now what were your names again?” She asked.

“I think I'd better go.” Sam stood. Still pale and shaking a little. “Forgive me Aunt Kalayn, but matters require my attention. May I borrow your maid for a moment to discuss the dispensation of the household, number of servants and the like?”

Aunt Kalayn nodded absently and the maid rose. Father Danzig rose as well, he was eyeing Sam with some concern and he caught my eye. Non-verbal communication is difficult at best, even when you know the person well but I tried to convey my concern, that he should keep his eye on Sam but that I was going to stay for a little while.

I thought that he told me that he would do so and that they would wait around until I emerged.

“So then, Aunt Kalayn.” I began. “How are you?”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she began, flinching away from me. “Please don't hurt me?”

“I'm not going to hurt you. Of course I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Oh good.” She perked up instantly. “Then, who are you again?”

“I'm Frederick remember? Your nephew?”

“Ah yes of course. I remember.”

I wasn't entirely convinced that she did.

“You've grown a lot since I last saw you. When was that?”

“When I was five remember? We came to visit?”

“Ah yes, I remember.” It seemed that that was a common phrase. A small shadow crossed her face. I assumed that it was a memory but she ignored it with the ease of what looked like much practise. “So how are you?” she asked.

“I'm good thank you.” I told her. “I'm getting married next year. As I understand it they're looking to combine it with the harvest festival.”

“Oh well that'll be lovely. Who's the lucky lady.”

“Well....” I smiled and she giggled with me, the very picture of the kindly elderly relative. This at least was something that she shared with Grandmother. “I would rather say that I am the lucky man.”

“Oh really, what's her name.”

“Her name is Ariadne?”

“And how is she.....situated?”

For those people that don't speak “noble” she was asking what Ariadne's rank was and how much of a dowry she would be bringing to the family.

Occasionally I am proud of my diplomatic skills as I gave her this speech.

“Well she belongs to a very old family (true) with a lot of power in their branch of.....society (also true). For herself, she is a lady of power and influence (true although you'll notice that I left out the fact that I was referring to “magical” power as that might have gone down badly), and she comes with the rank of Countess which she holds in her own right due to an inheritance (technically true although my wording is somewhat circumspect. She did indeed inherit the land and title from the man that we had arranged to have killed). So in a little while, they will be naming me “Count Frederick”. The land is not large but we have some ideas as to how to improve it.”

“Good, good.” She nodded approval. “Moving up in the world then?”

“I am.”

Notice that she didn't ask whether or not we liked each other or not. Such matters are beneath nobles of her social strata.

“And how are you Aunt Kalayn?” I asked. The real reason that I had remained behind.

“I'm alright I suppose.” She lied. She wasn't being malicious with it, it was just that there is a certain kind of person who won't complain if they were being tortured and bleeding from every orifice. However, there were also tears streaming down her cheeks which kind of gave me a hint.

I'm being flippant I know. I found this meeting incredibly tough so please don't hold it against me.

“I just....I miss my home.”

“Back at the castle?”

She nodded. “The green fields and the windmills off in the distance. The sounds of people working drifting up to my bedroom window.”

I guessed that she was talking about her home before she married Uncle Kalayn. There aren't any fields around Castle Kalayn and certainly not any windmills.

“I suppose you miss your husband as well.” I tried to plant the suggestion in the hope that it might steer her towards a topic that I wanted to ask about. I was worried that this woman knew the answers to the questions that I had, but at the same time, I was also becoming increasingly concerned that she could no longer give us that information. Simply because she could remember none of it. Or if she did, her memories were not dependable. I found myself looking at the door with a sense of longing. I wanted to go and I wanted to go now. That same feeling that I've talked about before. My legs wanted to move. They wanted to get up and run away. Run, with all of the pain and heartbreak behind them.

But, there was also a slim chance that she could give me a clue about Francesca's whereabouts.

I firmly forced my legs to stay where they were.

“Oh he was so handsome.” She told me. “So very handsome. He was like a God out of the old stories.”

There are some times when I can hear my mouth speaking and I just want to shut it down.

“You mean, demanding child sacrifice and worship?”

Fortunately for me though she was lost on a raft of her own memories.

“He came for me in the spring you know.”

“Did he?”

“He came and we just sat and talked for hours. My first husband had died a year earlier and I was only just out of my mourning garb.

“I wonder if it still fits, I must make a note and ask my Lilla to get it out.”

“Get what out.”

“My mourning garb.” She snapped. No sooner had she said it than I was clearly forgiven though.

“He looked so handsome as we sat in the castle grounds, talking. Just talking. He had such grand plans for the future, we were going to have children so that we could continue a grand legacy that had been set out for us. We were going to be Lords of a new domain. Where people would work together for a common purpose in order to make our lands great.”

I nodded. You hear stories like this all the time. The man courts the woman with flowery words so that she will agree to marry him and bring in the huge expected dowries. It was almost always false but I didn't want to tell this old woman that.

I felt sorry for her.

“May I ask a question though?”

“Mm? What?”

“Why do you hate Sam and not me?”

“Sam?”

“My brother. He was in here just a moment ago and you got upset.”

Her forehead creased in concentration. “I don't remember that.”

“Then why don't you hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

I took a deep breath.

“Because I was the one that caught your son in the heresy for which he was killed.”

She looked at me for a long time.

“My son is dead?” She asked with a straight face.

“Yes.”

Another frown.

“I thought it was my husband that had died.”

“They both died. Your son was executed for heresy and your husband ended his own life either in grief or in protest.”

The woman sat there for a long time, staring off into space.

“May the Gods forgive me.” She said after so long a time that I thought I had lost her again. “May all of the Gods forgive me but....” She shook her head. “I'm glad. He was a....He was a wretch.” She said it as though it was the worst possible thing that she could think of. I would have been amused but then she dropped the other clanger. “I almost hated his father for that.”

“His father?”

“Yes his father. I tried to hate him for a long time but oh.... I couldn't stay angry with him for long. He was so handsome you see and so....”