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me that my plan would work.Memories are at the heart of what we are made of,losing them is the same as dying.

Chapter 57

“It’s Sir Harold Simmons, my lady,”announced Rose Thornbear’s senior maid.

“Thank you, Angela. I have beenexpecting him,” answered Rose. “Please show him to the sittingroom.”

Angela pursed her lips disapprovingly.She never liked to see Lady Rose meet with a man alone, even one ofSir Harold’s stature, but she knew better than to voice heropinion. “Very well, my lady.”

A few minutes later, Sir Harold foundher in the sitting room. As its name suggested the room was adornedwith a variety of comfortable items of furniture, primarily chairs,though it also boasted a divan and an exquisitely carved table thatcreated a focus for the area. That was where the tea wouldgenerally be served.

The lady of the house sat on a ratherstiff chair to one side, her back straight except for the naturalcurve of her spine. Her features and dark hair only served to makethe black fabric of her dress more attractive. She rose from herseat to greet Sir Harold, “I see you felt the need to make yourcase in person.” It was less of a greeting than achallenge.

Harold took her proffered hand andbent over it, not quite touching the back of it with his lips.Actually kissing it would have been an affront, given thedifference in their relative statures. He held the position forlonger than necessary, to show extra reverence to his mentor’swidow. “Thank you for seeing me, Lady Hightower,” he began, “I feltthe need to express myself in person.”

As soon as he released her hand shemotioned to a chair across the room, indicating he should sit, andthen she resumed her own seat. “Please, there’s no need to use myformal title. Lady Rose will do,” she suggested. She would havepreferred Lady Thornbear, but that title still resided moreproperly with her mother-in-law, Elise. To avoid confusion, sheused her first name in less formal settings.

“You do me too much honor, Lady Rose,”said Harold. The situation made him uncomfortable. He had beenraised on a farm, and courtly etiquette was something that he hadlearned under Dorian Thornbear’s tutelage after being chosen totrain for knighthood. Given his background, it was doubtful hewould ever be comfortable in such circumstances. Lady Rose hadassisted with his education back then, but now she seemed farcolder to him.

Rose turned away, looking out thewindow, “Not too much honor for an old friend of my husband’s, SirHarold.”

“You realize why I am here, of course,Lady Rose?” asked Harold tentatively.

She nodded, “Yes I do, and I am afraidthat you have wasted your time, Sir Harold.”

“Please, just Harold will do, LadyRose,” he responded, “You helped train me, after all.”

“You were an excellent student,Harold, but I will not give you the sword,” she told him. She wasreferring to the broken remains of ‘Thorn,’ the great sword Dorianhad once borne.

“The Queen intends to honor him withthe founding of a new order of knights, to be named the Order ofthe Thorn. The name is meant to honor his name, and that swordwould be placed in our chapterhouse, as a sort of relic, serving asan example to future generations,” said Haroldfervently.

“Sir Egan said as much in his letter,”said Rose. “There is no need to remind me.”

“I don’t understand your reluctance,Lady Rose,” replied Harold. “Don’t you want us to honorhim?”

“You choose your words poorly, Harold.It is not ‘reluctance’. The appropriate term would be ‘refusal,’”she told him. “Do you know the story behind the sword’sname?”

“No, Lady Rose,” said Harold promptly.“He never shared its reason with me, but we always assumed that itrepresented the sharper portion of his name.”

“Exactly,” said Rose with steel in hervoice, “you assumed, and incorrectly at that. It was the last partof the sword’s name that he used, but the full name was ‘Rose’sThorn’. It was a name with special meaning between the two of us.It was not for you or anyone else to revere, it was symbolic of thebond between my husband and me.”

“But, Lady Rose
”

“Would you like to put my wedding ringin your chapterhouse, Sir Harold?! Would that be sufficient toplease you? For it would be almost the same thing to me. Do youunderstand now?” she struck out at him with the words, viciously,as if she would share her pain by wounding him.

Harold stood for a moment beforefalling to his knees, “Forgive me, Lady Rose, in my ignorance Ihave offended you. It was not my intention to do so. I understandmy error now.”

She took pity on him then, “RiseHarold, don’t cast your eyes downward so. I was tooharsh.”

He took his feet then, but kept hishead bowed, “It was wrong of me to come.”

“No,” she said, “I have given somethought to your request, and while you may not have Thorn, there issomething else you may have.” She gestured to the wall, where along sword was hanging on display.

Harold looked at herquestioningly.

“It was his father’s sword, GramThornbear’s. Dorian took it up after his father died. It was thefirst sword Mordecai enchanted for him. He used it proudly until heswitched to the great sword and stopped using a shield,” sheexplained.

“But
,” Harold almost stammered, “
shouldn’t that go to his son, to Gram?”

“Gram will never bear arms,” said Rosewith defiant resolve. “It was Dorian’s last wish.”

Harold stared at her, aghast, unsurewhat to say.

“Take it and go, Sir Harold,” she saidthen. “I tire easily these days. I will see you at the memorial.”Without another word she turned her back and left theroom.

Harold stared afterher. His son won’t be allowed totrain? Sadly, he took the sword down andmade his way out.

***

The memorial took place on the oneyear anniversary of King James Lancaster’s death. The King andQueen’s funerals had been taken care of not long after the problemscreated by Tremont and Mal’goroth had been settled. Dorian’s hadbeen held in Cameron, and similarly, had been far too brief. Theevent today was meant to commemorate both the past monarchs and theheroes who had died preserving Lothion.

Traditionally, such an occasion wouldbe handled by one of the heads of the four churches, but that wasno longer an

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