Dominion by Fred Saberhagen (best motivational novels txt) 📕

been cultivated, or even put to pasture. The river and its shorelines along here, Hidly had thought, probably looked much the same now as they had during Indian times.

   The rich countryside that surrounded the river on both sides could be seen from the castle roof only in leaf-clouded patches, through and over the uppermost branches of trees that must have been little more than saplings, if indeed they had existed at all, when Grandfather Littlewood bought the land. If Hildy let her imagination try, it could build on the hints of things seen tantalizingly through the summer trees, working to convince her that she was now in fact the mistress of some huge feudal domain. If the land in feudal times, had not really looked like this round the castle’s original site, it should have.

   There were vast fields of summer corn out there, along with square miles of other crops that she could not so easily identify. There were sprawling, sloping creekbed pasturelands, supporting tidy herds of dairy cows, with here and there some sheep. Most of the fields were bordered by thick hedgerows that Saul said sheltered small game in plenty. Orchards and pastures provided patches of woods, besides the wooded land of the river bluffs and islands. Saul had told her that there had been wild deer here in the valley when he was growing up, and he thought there probably still were, at least a few. He could remember Grandfather Littlewood telling stories of wild wolves, running right here along the Sauk … the more Hildy heard of Grandfather Littlewood, the more she wished that she could have met him.

   The trees around the castle prevented a rooftop observer from being able to see any of the prosperous modern farmhouses and barns very plainly; with very little effort a feudal illusion could be sustained. What buildings were visible through clear gaps in greenery were miles away, too distant for detail to be seen. In winter, Hildy supposed, with the leaves gone, the view of the countryside around must be considerably plainer—and of course it must then be easier for the outside world to see the castle, too. To see it, for example, from the narrow highway that threaded along the river’s farther shore, and maybe even from Frenchman’s Bend, the little town on the far shore half a mile upstream. She could see nothing of the town now, and very little of the highway even when the breeze stirred branches. The breeze was picking up a little now, she noticed, and there were gray clouds in the southwest.

   “I suppose we’d better get moving,” Vivian commented, looking in that direction, shading her eyes against the sun.  “We can spend the night in town if we decide to, but the ace will want to get there before the thundershowers do.”

   The two women entered the tower; Hildy closed the door firmly behind them, and they started down the winding stone stair. The narrow stair curved counterclockwise as you descended, Saul said to give a defending right-handed swordsman the advantage as he retreated upward. As she passed one of the narrow decorative windows Hildy looked down into the courtyard some sixty feet below, and saw that the workmen were giving the swimming pool a trial filling. It certainly ought to be ready for use by Friday afternoon. Now, in a matter of minutes, she was going to get into a machine with her lover Saul at the controls, and fly. She felt dreamy, drifty, ready to let go and enjoy the ride.

   She asked Vivian:  “What were medieval swimsuits like, I wonder?”

   Vivian’s laugh was quietly musical.  “They looked very much like medieval pajamas, I’m afraid.”

   “Not a stitch in sight?”

   “Exactly. Saul and I got away with skinny-dipping in the river a few times when we were little. One of our cousins from across the river put us up to it … he was quite a nasty little boy. But we’d better not encourage the weekend guests to carry this medieval thing too far.”

   The stairway brought them into a hallway that had not existed in the original structure, on the third level of the castle above the ground. Again the walls were stone, and ancient sconces held unlighted torches against the walls. But there were electric lights as well, recessed and inconspicuous; there were bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, designed in at the time of reconstruction in the early twentieth century. The old place was really in remarkably good shape, thought Hildy, considering how many decades it had been standing almost empty and almost unoccupied since it was rebuilt. She had to admit that old Gregory, though she didn’t like him, had certainly done a good job as caretaker.

   Saul, still in tennis clothes as was his bride, was standing halfway down the long hall, telling some more workmen in which room to put an antique bed. The process of refurnishing was coming along faster than

Hildy had thought it would.

   Hildy hurried to embrace her tall husband, bury her face for a moment against his chest, smelling of sweat and exercise and sunlight. Saul, murmuring something, returned the hug; he seemed half-distracted, as he usually was these days, thinking about business.

   The three of them walked on down the hall, one young woman on each side of Saul.

   “It’s been fun, kids,” said Vivian.  “But soon I’m going to be moving out.”

   “Oh?” Hildy, feeling vague alarm, looked across at her.  “Where to?”

   “Sometimes I wonder, how are you guys ever going to heat this place in the winter? This isn’t southern California, you know. It gets cold in these parts.”

   Saul put in:  “The old hot water system is still working. And there are a lot of fireplaces.” He turned to Hildy with a vague expression of concern.  “We could think about having some baseboard electric put in, I suppose.”

   “Don’t start that before the weekend,” his sister cautioned him.  “By the way, Gregory tells me