Watching the Fairy-king, Sir James fought to remain awake, sensing that the king would make an important announcement. Though the powder he'd been sprinkled with got in his eyes and up his nose, it did not make him sneeze, nor did it sting his eyes. It did, however, make him forget to hide his emotions. Tears sprang to his eyes as he forgot to remain awake.

After a moment, he forgot why he was fighting and drifted off to sleep. He was awakened again when the Lady Carnelian placed a short stick in Sir James' mouth. He opened his eyes. "You will need to bite down on this," she told him quietly. Without having to be told, Sir James knew it was for him to stifle his screams of pain with.

Grimly, Sir James nodded his understanding. With his free hand, he removed the willow long enough to speak. "I will not move. Do as you must, My Lady." The lady gave his shoulder a bit of a squeeze and she offered him a sympathetic expression before turning to the task at hand. Sir James steeled himself for the pain that was to come. On his brow, the Bloodstone warmed against his skin.

"Now, you must cut here, where the skin is just beginning to turn down," said Proud Obsidian when Lady Carnelian returned to the deadened wrist. "Cut down to the bones, all the way around."

Sir James tried to look away but his attention was snared by the trembling in Lady Carnelian's hand as she obeyed, concentrating on doing as her king commanded. Sir James remembered her panic when she'd first seen the entire, terrible state of his hand and was grateful for the Fairy-king's presence as he directed the maiden's actions.

When she first cut into his wrist, Sir James felt the pain but decided it was bearable. As she worked, the pain increased steadily until he could no longer ignore it. Sir James dug the fingers of his good hand into the soft grass and soil, seeking something to hang onto, lest he move the arm he'd promised to keep still.

"Now, slice back to about here." The Fairy-king indicated a short distance from the original incision and continued with his instructions as Lady Carnelian obeyed.

Throughout the proceedings, Sir James lay rigid and still as he'd promised, though he could not control his breathing or the pain that gripped him. He ground his teeth against the stick as the pain became more than he could bear, digging his heels into the ground and arching his back as he fought to remain still. A scream welled in his throat but, stubbornly, Sir James refused it voice.

Lady Carnelian interrupted her king. "My king, let us pause to allow the knight to recover himself." She turned her head and caught Sir James' eye.

His breathing had degenerated to a kind of pant that allowed very little air to move through his lungs. Desperate for air, he felt as if he were drowning.

"Sir James," she said quietly, "breathe with me." She took several slow, deep breaths, obviously modeling what she wanted for him to follow.

He tried, but wasn't able to gain control of his own chest. Lady Carnelian laid aside the blood-covered blade and turned to him. She touched his face and stroked his hair, using the cleaner of her two hands. Calmed and comforted by her touch, Sir James allowed himself to relax and breathe the way she'd asked him to.

"Concentrate on that and not your arm, My Friend." Her concerned affection reassured him. He managed a little nod, still not trusting his voice. "Look over at the brook, at the waterfall. Let your breath flow." Lady Carnelian's calm voice soothed him until his racing heart had slowed enough that the pain in his chest receded.

He forced himself to tear his gaze from her beautiful face to look at the waterfall across the glade, to breathe deep breaths the way she wanted. "We must continue," she said after a moment. "Only keep your gaze on the waterfall and take deep, even breaths."

Warned to expect the pain, Sir James steeled himself and focused on the brook as the lady had asked. Her king continued his instruction. "Bend the flap you created back down over itself. This will not be easy, but you must separate the flesh from the bone." Agony roared as she did as ordered.

Sir James did his best to focus on the waterfall and on his breathing, but found his breaths growing shallower again. He bit down on the stick to control the scream that pressed at his chest as she peeled back flesh from bone.

Sir James had learned long ago that, as a third son and lesser knight, his emotions, his pain, his opinions, and even his person were of no consequence to anyone, that he was to hold his tongue and do as ordered no matter the cost. Screaming would do no good and would only make it that much more difficult to hold his arm still despite the excruciating pain it was being subjected to.

Forgetting about his breathing or the waterfall, Sir James closed his eyes and focused on the Fairy-king's voice. It was a pleasant tenor despite the king's small size. His voice was almost paternal as he addressed Lady Carnelian, teaching her to amputate a limb in instructional tones that also hinted of deep affection.

That she wore diamonds on her brow spoke of the king's love for the human maiden, for the stones, cut and polished as they were, had the power to greatly extend the maid's life.

"Take a bit of bandage and cover this over; we must protect it from dirt and injury while the bones are cut."

Sir James opened his eyes and looked at the lady. Her hands had ceased trembling as she wrapped a strip of cloth around his wrist. Seeing exposed bone made him look away again. The king's voice continued.

"Very good, now wet it with a small amount of the water in your stoppered bottle; not much though, you will need the rest in a bit."

His pain subsided a little, allowing Sir James to breathe better. The king paused. Lady Carnelian cried out once, as pain such as he'd never experienced overwhelmed Sir James' control. He screamed past the stick in his mouth and arched his back against the agony. Darkness fell.

~~~

The deadened hand fell away. Panting from the exertion, Lady Carnelian paused for a moment before she laid aside her hatchet. Sir James had fainted from the pain and Carnelian was glad. "What must be done next?" she asked her king after the blood had been wiped from her hatchet and the tool set aside.

"It must be closed up, of course. Before that, however, the bones must be shaped. Rinse your knife with plain water, then frankincense water. Each of those bones must be rounded or the rough edges will press against the skin from the inside and wear at it over time."

"So that is why you prefer to cut at a joint?" With her patient unconscious and oblivious to the pain, Lady Carnelian relaxed into her task of shaving the sharp edges away from the bone ends she'd just created. After her king was satisfied, he taught her to shape the flesh around the bone and to stitch it closed with the boiled hair.

Though he moaned and his eyes fluttered, Sir James did not rouse, nor did he attempt to move the injured arm, though the fingers of his other hand twitched and his legs jerked spasmodically on occasion.

Only after the stump had been washed clean and bandaged to Proud Obsidian's standards, was the bear summoned to carry Sir James to a bed in Lady Carnelian's cottage.

Sir James roused as the bear approached. He tried to swallow but only coughed, instead. "Is it done then?" he managed. His breathing was shallow again and pain was etched deeply in his expression.

"It is done," Lady Carnelian assured him. She stroked his hair back from his face and wiped the sweat from his brow, seeking to comfort him. "You are free of it, My Friend."

"I will never be free of it." His voice was heavy with regret and a latent anger that Lady Carnelian could sense but that he refused to allow voice to. The injured knight lifted the stump of his arm a little for emphasis. "There will always be a reminder that I am less of a man for the baron's spite." He tried to sit up and failed, exhausted from infection, loss of blood and a longstanding lack of sleep.

"Better a little less and alive, then a whole man, dead from the poisons of rotting flesh," pointed out the Fairy-king as Lady Carnelian gave the knight's shoulder a squeeze. "Yours has been a long ordeal, Good Sir. Rest now. You are safe." Sir James closed his eyes and Lady Carnelian saw a tear leak from each one. With a long, shuddering sigh, Sir James obeyed the king.

"Will the powder ease his suffering, My King?" asked Lady Carnelian as she watched the knight sleep.

"Bone is not stone, My Stewardess. It is a living tissue that feels pain, the same as flesh. I fear that this will pain him for a very long time to come."

"What was the purpose of the powder, if he will still feel pain?" she asked her king as they eased the stricken man up and onto longsuffering Talon's back.

"This is a sand of forgetting, rather than sleep. Each time he sleeps, he will forget. He will be unable to remember most of his time within my glade," the Fairy-king explained. "Once he sleeps beyond my Enchanted Forest, he will no longer forget, though he will not remember much from his time here. Much of it will seem as if a dream, some will be memory and the rest, forgotten. I do not know what he will remember, exactly; but my greatest hope is that he will not remember the actual surgery of losing his hand. To remember such a thing would be a great torment to him for the remainder of his life."

"If the sands were not for sleep, then how long before he awakens again?" The question was Talon's, as the four of them made their careful way across the glade, to where Lady Carnelian's cottage had been built at the edge nearest the opening in the living wall.

"Until he is roused, for he will forget to awaken. My Dear, do not allow him to sleep overly long. He needs nourishment. Keep him long enough to be certain that his arm will heal cleanly and then take him to his intended destination, for it will be many weeks before he may walk on his own. "

"He may not remain?" Lady Carnelian hated the note of pleading in her voice. Her king had provided everything she needed. How could she possibly ask for more?

King Proud Obsidian seemed to understand. "Should he choose to return and offer you allegiance, he will be welcomed. I have seen that he is worthy of you as either liege-vassal or as mate. In the same way, you are Lady of the Deep Wood and need not turn him away nor invite him to stay unless you so desire. Yet he is no common peasant but your equal, so cannot be forced, either way. He cannot choose if he never leaves, for to return or not must be his own decision." With that, the Fairy-king flew away on his own business, leaving the Stewardess and the bruin to tend the man in question.

~~~

Sir James had fought to remain awake despite the Fairy-king's order to sleep. The pain in his arm was nearly unbearable, though he felt no need to scream again. It wasn't long before he forgot to fight, however.

When he awoke again, Sir James lay in a comfortable bed. He'd been dressed in his tunic, which smelled of fresh, spring grass, but his hosen were neatly draped across the end of the bed. Knowing that he should don them for the sake of modesty, Sir James also realized that he lacked the strength or energy to do so. His head hurt, his ankle throbbed and his left hand tingled as if asleep.

He wiggled his fingers, but the blanket never moved and his thumb and fingers felt nothing. Sir James lifted it and discovered only a bandage that ended too soon. He tried to make a fist but nothing moved. Sir James touched the bandage with his right hand and then wished he hadn't, as the tingle intensified into a burning pain.

Confused, he looked about the room, trying to decide where he was. It seemed to be a modest cottage. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, industriously heating whatever was in the pot suspended over the fire. A table with four chairs stood against the wall, beside the door. His bed was positioned against the third wall, while the fourth wall was set with a curtain.

The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen sat in one of the chairs, grinding something with a mortar and pestle. Sir James struggled to remember who she was or how he'd come to be laying in her cottage; for that matter, he couldn't remember how he'd come to lose his hand. The sight of her made him think that he should immediately know her, as if all memory of her was just beyond the edges of his consciousness.

Hoping to spark some memory, Sir James studied her, noted her pale skin with the smattering of freckles that spread over her cheeks and nose, the walnut hair and dark eyes that sparkled from under a fine brow. Even her jewelry and clothing seemed vastly familiar to him, as well as the curve of her figure. That figure wasn't as generously curved as a fine lady's wont, but Sir James decided he liked her curves; more generous than a peasant woman's would be, yet not nearly as rounded as any noblewoman.

She glanced over at him and, seeing that he was awake, smiled at him and rose at once to approach. "You slept long this time, Sir James. I was considering waking you for your dinner."

"How long have I lain here?" he asked, and was surprised by the rough quality of his voice. His throat was sore. Had he been ill?

The beautiful maid seemed amused by the question. "You have been abed for several days now. It is nearly evening. Are you hungry?"

Sir James considered it. "I thirst."

She approached with a cup and sat beside him on the bed. He lifted his head to take a drink, but the effort was far too taxing an exercise to accomplish on his own, so she slid an arm behind him and propped him up against her shoulder. Sir James managed a drink without spilling the contents and discovered the cup to hold water mixed with honey and a little wine.

Despite his thirst, the question burned in his brain, driving all other thoughts far from him. "How did I lose my hand?" With the question voiced, he returned his attention to the contents of the cup, drinking it a sip at a time and resting between sips until the cup had almost been drained.

She only answered him after he'd lowered the cup again. "Do you disremember the message bound to your arm?"

Memories flooded back. Sir James struggled to sit up on his own as panic took hold. "The missive! It was due . . ."

"Be at ease," she soothed. "I delivered it as you asked, into your noble father's hand." Her small hand pulled him back. Sir James allowed himself to rest against her shoulder, to take pleasure in the contact. Had he fallen in love with her? He didn't know, but decided that it was a possibility to be considered.

Sir James found that he had many more questions, but before he could marshal his thoughts enough to form the questions, he and the lady were interrupted by a trio of small children, who filed through the door in a stately manner.

"My Lady," said the smallest of the three, "Fawn refuses to remain within the wall again, but the rest of the animals are settled for the evening. Talon wishes you well and Lily sends her greetings. My father has asked after the knight and wonders if he might visit." Oddly enough, the voice coming from the tiny child was that of a mature woman.

The lady smiled and offered Sir James more of the cup. He shook his head, so she produced a comb from under the pillow and applied it to his hair, making the hygiene a soothing action. Sir James relaxed against her shoulder and enjoyed the sensation. The lady answered and her gentle voice cheered his heart.

"Fawn will be safe enough for tonight but I will speak with her tomorrow. Thank you for the greetings, I will return them as I may; and Maid Hegedith, please let your father know that he may come at any time. He has never required an invitation to visit before, for Hagadorn is my dear friend."

"Yes, thank you, Milady. I will tell him now, with your permission." Barely two feet tall, the tiny maid rushed out as soon as she'd thanked her mistress for permission to deliver the message. Somehow, Sir James knew that she was a Brownie maid who was of marriageable age, but try as he might, he couldn't remember how he knew that.

The tallest of the three spoke next, in a voice that was neither entirely childish nor adult. "My Lady, the spinaches are ripe and I've harvested some. The cut in the wall is growing back nicely and those new roses are beginning to bud!"

"That's wonderful, Maid Veronica. And how fare the violets? Will there be enough for an elixir this year?" The child nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment. She looked down and was excused to the back room.

The final child, who seemed rather familiar but whose name escaped Sir James entirely, approached without hesitation. "My Lady, the rabbits in the south warren kindled last night. There are five kits in Clover's nest and six in Buttercup's. Also, there are six eggs from the chickens. I milked the goats and sat the milk aside to separate."

She produced her treasures for her mistress to see, then added them to a basket beside the hearth before returning to the bed. "Sir James, guess what we're having for dinner?"

The question, so familiar, so anticipated, brought a rush of affection and remembrance to the knight's heart. This was a friend, one he found dear. He paused for a moment, trying to find an outlandish answer without knowing why. "We are having black bread dipped in treacle and honey," he finally guessed.

To his delight, she giggled and approached the bed. Climbing up onto the foot of it, she shook her head, making her golden ringlets of hair shower about her head. "No, Silly; that was your breakfast guess. Try again."

Sir James turned his head to look up at the beautiful lady who held him. She smiled down at him with affection. "Well?" she prompted, playing along with the child. "What say you? Have a guess."

He shook his head, entranced by her eyes. "I have none."

"Oh, but you must!" The lady's voice joined the child's, enchanting him.

"Kidney pie." His second guess made the child giggle again, which made him want to smile, though he stifled it. Long experience had taught him to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

The lady touched his cheek. "Smile, Good Sir. You are among friends."

Such a concept seemed foreign to him. His was to show friendship, yet never to count on another's affection for him. "Friends," he echoed. "Truly?" He was amazed to think that someone might care for him, the way he cared for others.

The child laughed and bounced a little on the bed. It made a sharp pain travel through his ankle and left it aching, but he didn't care to say so. She answered in a voice that was matter-of-fact. "Of course, we are. Did I not climb the wall to feed you for two days? Only a friend would do so."

"Willow!" scolded the lady in consternation.

Memories rushed back. He was to have died in the wall and the child had fed him at her mistress' direction. Apparently, somehow, they'd rescued him from a death sentence. His throat closed off and he blinked back tears. "Maid Willow!"

She crawled over him and offered him a clumsy hug about his neck. "Don't cry," the little girl begged. "I wasn't supposed to remind you but I forgot; I'm sorry."

He raised his arms and held the child close, realizing that it was an action he'd longed to be able to accomplish but, heretofore, had been unable. " Do not fear for what you said. At least now I remember how I lost my hand. I love you, Maid Willow. You have been a true friend to me. "

The lady- Carnelian- suddenly seemed apprehensive. "Do you remember losing it?" she asked in hesitant tones when he had released the little girl.

He considered it. "I remember that you were she with the blade, and that your king was there, but I disremember the process of it." It was close to the truth, he decided, for he remembered lying with his arm outstretched and that it had taken great courage not to move, remembered feeling comforted by her presence. Her expression of worry faded and she offered him the cup again.

Maid Willow turned to sit with her back against the wall. "You have yet to guess," she reminded Sir James with an impish grin.

That made Sir James laugh. The pain in his midsection reminded him that several of his ribs were broken. He sobered enough to find a 'suitable' guess. "Roasted mutton with mint jelly and boiled onions."

"We have no sheep." The little girl's tone was nearly reproachful, either scolding her mistress for the lack or else reminding him of a fact he should have known.

"We are to have rabbit stewed with potatoes, wild leeks and carrots." Lady Carnelian's fond smile made Sir James' heart beat a little faster. "Maid Willow will assist you in eating, as she delights to do so." By her tone and expression, the lady envied her maid the task but restrained herself from denying the little girl such a privilege

"My Lady, I have found paradise upon the earth. Truly, there is no place else I would want to be whilst I heal." He watched a fetching blush steal up from her neck. Without answering, she eased him back against the pillow and rose from her place. Sir James was beginning to suspect that he needed to beg the lady's pardon for his forwardness and was opening his mouth to do so when she finally spoke again.

"Sir James, I often fear that you have found only heartbreak and torment within this forest. To hear you say so is assurance, indeed."

He didn't know what to say, until he remembered that she too, had offered friendship freely and without reservation. "My Lady, to have such friends as you and your Maid Willow is worth such sacrifice."

"I am her sister, and so is Veronica."

Sir James shot a grin at Maid Willow's smiling face. "So Lady Carnelian once said. Would that I had such sisters as you and Maid Veronica."

"What about Lady Carnelian?"

"I would not wish for her as a sister." Sir James wished he could return the words to his tongue, unsaid, as soon as they'd left his mouth. She shot him a glance, then blushed furiously and looked away again.

Oblivious to the current between the two, Maid Willow spoke up. "Sometimes I wish she were not my sister, too." The lady's expression changed to one of sadness, until the child qualified her comment. "I wish she were my mama."

Lady Carnelian stopped fussing over the fire and approached the bed with her arms held out to the child. "We cannot change our births, Sweet One," she murmured as she embraced her small sister, "and I would not forbear our mama from the joy you gave her, but I would not change serving in Mama's stead. I love you, Little Maid."

The little girl replied, but with her face hidden against her sister, the words were lost to Sir James. After a long moment, Lady Carnelian released the little girl and ordered her to 'wash up' for dinner.

Lady Carnelian approached the bed again. "Would you like to sit up?" she asked.

Sir James struggled to rise and managed to prop himself up on his right elbow. Lady Carnelian allowed him to work at it until he'd exhausted himself and given up, lest he jostle the stump of his left arm again. Finally, she offered a hand and when he was upright, pulled a board out from the headboard and propped his pillow against it to serve as a chair back.

"How long have I been in this bed?" he asked again, realizing that she'd made several accommodations toward his care.

This time, she answered him outright. "You have been here nearly six days. Each day you remember a little more and awake on your own a little sooner, but each night you forget again and must remember anew come morning. Your ankle is broken, as are four of your ribs. Hagadorn has built a small coffin for your hand, which awaits your pleasure in the disposal. Your sword and spurs hang beside the door."

"A Fairy sent my horse home after I was bound inside the wall," Sir James remembered, "and three men robbed me while I was in it, so now I have no boots nor cloak. They beat me and I deserved it, though I disremember why."

She perched on the side of his bed again, this time facing him, rather than seated beside him. "You will remember some things, view some as a dream and forget entirely other things. This was a gift from my king, for he would not leave you with the torment of your memories."

"Swimming near the waterfall with you . . ." He blushed and stilled his tongue as he thought of holding her while swimming. Such an impossible thing must surely have been a dream! Even now, he dared not dream it while awake, for the lady was well beyond his reach and above his station. Why wish for what he would never be able to attain? Especially now that he would never earn his way in the world with a sword.

She reached out and touched his hand. "What are you thinking?"

"That I must not dream such dreams of you. It would be unseemly for someone of my station." Once again, Sir James wished he had kept silent. How was it that he was unable to mind his tongue? He groaned in dismay. "My Lady, I cannot seem to keep my thoughts to myself, when they concern you."

She chuckled. "Touch your brow." He did so and found himself wearing a stone. She reached out, obviously expecting him to remove it and hand it to her. When he complied, he found that the stone was an obsidian.

"I bound the truth stone to your brow in order to assess your needs, when you were first laid here. It was the only way to get you to ask for what you needed." She opened a pouch that hung habitually at her elbow and placed the stone in it. After a moment's thought, she removed a different one and handed it to him. "Wear this instead. It is bloodstone, for courage."

"You bound this to my brow once before," he remembered aloud as he slipped the stone's leather ties over his head, since it had already been tied to his brow, the leather was still sized to his head.

"Yes, but I fear it may not help. The courage you need now is a different sort than what the bloodstone will offer." She worried her lower lip between her teeth, making Sir James wonder what it would be like to kiss her.

Sir James frowned, trying to think of anything besides where his thoughts insisted on roaming. "I know little of the stones."

"But you are noble! Did you not learn the runes of stones as you learned to read crests?" She seemed shocked by the lack in his education.

"My Lady, why are you surprised? I am but a third-born son. Is my place not to merely obey my liege-lord, to fight and die at his beckon-call and whim? Truly, I will never have a crested shield or even a sword of my own, so learning the runes of stones beyond the basic would be wasted." He paused to swallow back the rising bitterness. "Especially now."

She took his hand then and he allowed it, reveling in the feel of her touch and knowing it was a futile thing. "Sir James, learning is never a lost cause. Would you like to learn now? Perhaps you will never have a sword or shield encrusted with such gems, but the wearing of certain, compatible stones can lend you strength as you have need, or rather, to amplify such strengths as you already possess."

Sir James studied her for a moment, appreciating her beauty but seeing also the earnest friendship she offered and the affection she held for him. He loved her, he realized; but the realization also came with the pain of loss, for she could never be his to claim.

Even if he had the entire viscounty to offer her, let alone a baronage or even a cottage of his own, what woman would want a husband who was not a whole man? She was a wealthy, powerful woman in her own right. Such a lady would never want a lowly knight-errant for a husband; not when she could have any man she so desired. Finally, he answered her. "Will you tell me the meaning of the stones you wear?"

Maid Willow returned from having made her ablutions and commented on the request. "You must tell the stories after dinner, My Lady. It would be a fine tale."

The lady smiled and reclaimed her hand gently as she rose from her perch. "I shall, indeed," she agreed, "if Sir James may stay awake for them this time."

"Have I asked before?" he asked, suspecting that she had answered many of his questions before.

Maid Willow laughed at him. "Every day since Talon brought you here, you awake and ask afresh, as though for the first time. But do not worry; I like hearing the tales."

"Will I ever awake and remember without having to ask?" he asked warily. If he forgot everything, every night, it would make it that much more difficult to move on.

Lady Carnelian brought a dish of food and motioned for Maid Willow to take it. "Sir James, on the first night after you leave my king's Enchanted Forest, you will no longer forget that which you learned the day before. Until then, your confusion is a gift designed to keep you from the torment of so fresh an ordeal. We do not mind answering your questions, for they are different every day."

Maid Veronica appeared shortly afterward, in order to take her bowl and sit at the table. Lady Carnelian chose to seat herself near the maid, though unlike Maid Veronica, Lady Carnelian sat so that she could see both her sister and Sir James as she told the story of how she'd come to wear the Firestone, the Swan Stone, and the rubies on her carcanet.

Hearing the lady tell her tale made Sir James chuckle as he thought of the baron, waiting to purchase the wildly expensive piece of jewelry back for the few copper coins he usually spent in re-acquiring jewelry sent as gifts with serfs taken from their weddings. "The baron searches for your carcanet still," he told his hostess. "The stone was originally a clasp worn on a man's cloak, but the baron's father had it set into the carcanet for Lady Broadway as a gift, at the time the baron was born. He had expected to see it in the marketplace long ago, for it is a family treasure, which he gave away . . ."

"On the day I was conceived," she finished for him in quiet tones. "No doubt, he would gift it to his own bride, rather than his daughter."

"Not at all. He had a bride but she took sanctuary in a convent. She has been there over a year and the bishop is loath to force her return to her lawful husband, nor will he grant a writ of divorce. The baron has a bride he may not divorce and may not touch. You are thought to be dead, for when it was discovered that the woodsman's wife was dead inside her cottage, there were three mounds in the yard with three wooden crosses on them. In an effort to provide himself with an heir, the baron has taken to retaining the virgins he demands his lordly rights from for a month or so. When they prove barren, he releases them. As yet, he is without an heir." His answer obviously surprised her.

"He would do better to keep them six weeks and wait a week or two before deflowering them," murmured the Maid Willow, half to herself. "The brides are setting the dates of their weddings so as to prevent it."

"Willow!" Maid Veronica covered her ears with her hands. "Must you speak such things at dinner? Such talk is best kept to the fields and you know it!"

Despite a fetching blush on her cheeks, the Lady Carnelian agreed with her youngest sister. "Let us pray he does not, Dear Willow. The brides deserve better than to be turned into livestock for the baron's profit. Your dear sister is most correct, however; topics such as this are best left to the fields."

Sir James prevented himself from shaking his head at the evidence of the young girls' unladylike education, thinking that it must have come by close association with both Fairy and Brownie-maids, for it was apparent that such maids never saw reason to tailor conversation with regards to age and Maid Willow was entirely aware of such matters, when it came to breeding the animals she cared for. Were Lady Carnelian installed within her father's keep, she would not be learning of such things at all, nor would her maids.

Seeking an ally, young Maid Willow turned to her charge as she offered him another bite of carrot. "What say you, Sir James?"

Sir James chewed and swallowed thoughtfully, seeking more time to answer in a delicate fashion. Though he was a bit shocked by the frankness of the conversation, it was evident that the lady saw no reason to deflect her young sister's question, so he would answer honestly. "I would not take them at all. Holy Writ is clear that a man must be the husband of but one wife, and she his wife for a lifetime. Better to have one bride who is gently kept than to abuse every woman in an entire baronage. Still though, I doubt such a decision will ever be mine, for I've nothing to offer a bride and no means to support her. My place is in the barracks of whatever lord I shall serve." He glanced at the bandaged stump of his left arm. "If any lord will have me, crippled as I am."

"I have seen many in the camps with such lack," volunteered Maid Veronica, "and they get along fairly well. Rory Quick uses a wooden leg; Sam Smith has an assistant and Gregory Goodenough ties a hook onto his arm."

"And yet not one of them is expected to ride a horse while holding a sword, or to swing a broadsword with two hands," pointed out the knight with a bitterness he couldn't hide. "With but one hand, I am entirely useless as a knight."

"Why did the baron do that to you?" Maid Willow's question was asked innocently, and the question, coming from a wide-eyed child, pulled the anger from Sir James' chest as surely as it drew away his breath. How was he to answer her?

Sir James closed his eyes and leaned his head back, chewing his bite of meat and savoring the flavor as he chose how to answer. "I had been ordered to collect dues in a specific manner, yet I altered it enough to prevent one family from losing their only milking goat, for they have children but no cow. Though I returned to Broadway with exactly the animals I was ordered to bring, His Lordship was angry with me for not obeying his orders implicitly. The string was tied in such a way that the only way to prevent myself from losing my arm was to obey the order to keep the straps wet. In furtherance of learning to obey orders, I was to make the ride in three days, and given supplies enough for a three-day journey; though the baron well knows that at a reasonable pace, the journey commands four days. Due to my required haste, the horse stumbled and went lame. I chose to spare the horse, rather than my own comfort, so I had not water enough to soak the string on the day I cut through the wall. In being bound into the wall, I was unable to obey the orders, so the rawhide dried. I disobeyed the baron, so losing my hand was the price of disobedience."

"Rather, the result of a cruel punishment!" Even Lady Carnelian seemed surprised when Maid Veronica spoke up vehemently. "What kind of man orders a beast abused so, much less a knight of the realm?" There were tears in her eyes when she looked at Sir James. Hope for a more amicable relationship stirred in the knight's heart. "Why did you submit to his cords, Good Sir?" The question was voiced in anguish, as if changing the answer might change the loss of his hand.

"If you earn a correction from your Lady Mistress, do you accept it though you feel it unjust, or do you run away until she is forced to hold you down for it?" he asked in return. "And I suppose I might have cut it as soon as I was away from my lord, but what would that prove, other than my faithlessness?"

A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach, making the food hard to swallow. Sir James had wanted, above all things, to prove to his father that he was a knight to be trusted. He glanced over and discovered Maid Veronica to have tears in her eyes.

"Now I understand why you fled Mama's home, My Lady," the little girl told her oldest sister. "Forgive me for doubting you." The tears flowed.

Sir James repented of his explanation, remembering the child's fear of him. "Not all men are so cruel, Maid Veronica," he told her quietly.

She looked at him evenly. "I know it," answered Maid Veronica, sniffing back her tears. "You are so kind as to say nothing to my sister, even when your face and clothes hold more dinner than your innards, and despite the greatest of pain, you refused to cry out in order to keep me from fearing you more on the day my lady sister cut the missive from your arm." She held Sir James' gaze for a moment. "I feared you at first, but no longer."

"It gladdens me to hear you say so," he told her. "Surely something terrible must have happened, to make you so afraid of strangers."

"I have always feared being returned to Broadway Baronage, for my mistress has no legal right to claim guardianship of me. Though I have been free of the baronage for five years, I am yet a child and anyone who recognizes me could return me to my papa's brothers and I would again be a serf, no longer free to roam these woods or serve the fairies."

Her simple confession broke Sir James' heart. "My friend, your secrets are safe with me."

She smiled as she finished her dinner. "I know, Sir Knight, and I thank you for keeping them."

The brownie maid, Hegedith arrived soon after, as Lady Carnelian was telling the tale of how she and her maids came to be entrusted with the Brownie Stone. "Oh, I remember that," exclaimed the tiny maid.

"It was meant to go on the neck, you see," she told Sir James, "but low on the shoulder was as high as my grandpapa could place it. Even when she was kneeling, my grandfather could reach no higher than Lady Carnelian's shoulder to pin the brooch on. So now, since that was where Grandpapa pinned it, that is where Her Ladyship and the children wear them.

'Only John the Mad wears one, else. He married a distant cousin, you see." Maid Hegedith went on to tell the tale of John Little's wedding to his Brownie bride.

Lady Carnelian had yet to tell the tale of the riviere she wore in her hair or the gold bands around her wrists, but Sir James could not control the weariness that gripped him. Seeing that he was falling asleep in front of everyone, Lady Carnelian ordered wash water brought and sent her young sisters to ready themselves for bed.

"I suppose I must fall asleep and forget this day, as well," he murmured as she cleaned the crumbs from his chest and washed his face. "Would that I could keep today."

"You will remember the most recent days after you leave this place," she said quietly. "But most will seem a dream to you, what you do not forget entirely." With his face cleaned, she set about unwrapping his arm so she could change the bandages. With the flesh knitting together well, she clipped the stitches she'd placed there to hold the skin together over his stump.

Sir James had to admit that he was impressed. Instead of looking ragged, the end of his arm could almost look as if no hand had ever existed, save for the scars from where she'd tied the flaps of skin together over what was left of his forearm. As she dressed the openings with salve designed to prevent the wound from growing infected since that the stitches themselves were gone,

Lady Carnelian offered him a somewhat melancholy smile. "I think you might return home soon," she commented. "You are healing well."

"All due, no doubt, to your excellent care, My Lady." Sir James smiled at her, hoping for some kind of return for his regard. She flashed him a grin, but made no reply, other than to give his remaining hand an affectionate squeeze. In short order, Sir James was groomed, laid flat on the bed, and falling asleep.