Gart understood quite a bit at that moment. “I see,” he said. No, it wouldn’t do to break down the door at all. He might get flogged if he did. Gart cleared his throat softly. “Is there another place you can sleep? Surely there is another bed for you.”
Izlyn was uncertain. Gart crouched down beside her to be more at her level, feeling rather sorry for the young girl whose entire world was in upheaval. Her father dead, sister married, and she was quite alone. As he gazed at her, he also remembered what Keller had said about the girl and her brother, and how the brother had abused the entire family. Gart couldn’t imagine anyone abusing this slight, delicate creature. Even to think about it enraged him.
“I understand that your chamber is with your sister,” he said patiently. “However, there are other rooms in this keep. In fact, I have been given a bed on the top floor that I will gladly give to you. Do you want me to take you there?”
Izlyn shook her head, smoothing out the ashes and writing again.
You sleep there.
Gart read it, shaking his head. “I will not sleep there if it means you do not have a bed,” he said. “Is there anywhere else you can sleep? Otherwise, you must sleep in my bed. I will insist.”
Izlyn started to shake her head but thought better of it. Her expression suggested she had an idea. After a moment, she set the stick aside and stood up. Gart stood up next to her. She gazed up at him with her big brown eyes and this time, he wasn’t annoyed by it. She was a sweet little thing. When she held out her hand to him, he took it, swallowing it up in a fist the size of her head. As she walked, he followed along beside her.
Izlyn led Gart up the stairs to the first level. There were two chambers on this level and she went to the door on the right. Lifting the latch, she pushed open the door to reveal a large, roomy chamber with an enormous bed in the middle of it, pushed close to the hearth. The room had been swept clean and three big trunks were neatly lined up along the wall near the door. Izlyn pointed to the big bed.
“You can sleep there?” Gart clarified, looking at the bed, the room in general. “It looks nice and comfortable. This is a very big chamber. Who does it belong to?”
He asked the question, forgetting she couldn’t speak to him. But Izlyn scampered over to the hearth, which had been mostly swept out, and found a scrap piece of wood in the woodbox. There were enough ashes that she could make a slate, and she knelt down and began to write.
Papa.
Gart peered over her shoulder to see what she had written. When he saw what she had scribed, he looked around the chamber again. It belonged to the dead father they were burying on the morrow, the one killed by his own son. He wondered if Izlyn knew who had killed her father, more burdens for a young woman whose short life had been full of them. He really did feel a good deal of sympathy for her. More than that, he was coming to feel guilty for hiding from her. Perhaps she had just wanted a friend and he had been cruel about it. He put a big hand fondly on her blond head.
“I will send a servant to prepare the room and build a fire,” he said. “I shall return.”
As he went for the door, he heard swift pitter-pats of little feet as Izlyn caught up to him and slipped her hand in his. When he looked down to see what the trouble was, she simply smiled up at him. Gart didn’t have the heart to force her to remain. She was undoubtedly feeling lost and lonely, as evidenced by the weeping when he’d first come across her, so he permitted her to accompany him as he went in search of a servant, making sure Trevyn’s bed was prepared for Izlyn and ensuring there was a fire in the hearth. All this he did for her as she clung to his hand, scurrying after him as he went about his task.
When the room was finally warm and comfortable, he stood by the door with an old female servant, one he had roused from the hall to assist him, and watched Izlyn as she climbed up onto the big bed. When the old woman turned to leave, Gart stopped her.
“You will remain here with her,” he said. “If she has any needs, she must have someone to tend them.”
The old woman only understood marginal English. She pointed to Izlyn as Gart gestured for her to remain in the room, and the old woman understood after that. As the old woman went to settle in, Gart turned to leave but he was thwarted by a big thump on the floor that sounded as if it was near the bed. By the time he turned around, Izlyn was picking herself off the floor and running towards him. Gart was startled when she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, fearfully. Gart held his arms aloft, unsure what to do, as Izlyn squeezed his waist. He found himself looking at the old servant woman, at a loss how to respond. The old woman shuffled back over to the door where the two of them were standing. She struggled with her English.
“Afraid,” she said, wringing her hands anxiously as she looked to Izlyn. “Afraid.”
Gart looked down at the girl clinging to his waist and all he could feel was sorrow and disgust. Disgust for the life she had led and for the terror she surely must have suffered, and sorrow for the fact that she must have surely been fearful of every aspect of life. There were many atrocities in the world and Gart had seen his share, and when he was able to assist, he had. This was an atrocity that he’d not witnessed and only heard of, but still, the effects were obvious. Izlyn didn’t even know him, but somehow, she sensed that he would never do her harm, which was the truth. He wouldn’t. But he would surely kill anyone who made a move against her ever again. The atrocities, for Izlyn, were over. For as long as Gart was able to, he would make sure of it, and he knew Keller would make sure of it, too.
Unwinding Izlyn’s arms from around his waist, he led her over to the big bed and lifted her up, putting her on the mattress. Pulling the coverlet up, he tucked her in as she had never been tucked in by any male member of her family. Gart, a stranger, and a man with little capacity for compassion or mercy, was certainly showing an abundance of it to a lonely, frightened girl. When Izlyn finally fell into an exhausted sleep, it was clutching Gart’s big hand. She’d never felt so safe in her life.
The old serving woman spent the night sleeping on the floor next to Izlyn, keeping the young girl company as she slept while her knight in shining armor slept a floor above her, hoping that, one day, he might have a daughter just like sweet little Izlyn.
*