Alicia Roque Ruggieri (22 page)

31

Oxfield

Bethan knelt beside the
stream within the fortress’ walls, enjoying the warm morning sun.  The water
had thawed now ‘twas April, and she didn’t fear for Enid’s safety.  The young
girl’s laughter mingled with that of another little servant.  Looking up,
Bethan saw the two of them playing with their rag dolls on the opposite bank. 
She smiled.  How sweet and carefree they were.  How long ago her own childhood
seemed, though she had turned only sixteen this winter.

“Bethan.”

She startled at the fluty
voice. 
Garan.
  She turned, rising to her feet.  “You’ve come,” she
greeted him with a smile, hoping he would see and return her delight.

“Didn’t I say that I
would?” he frowned slightly.

He has grown taller
since I last saw him, if twenty-two-year-old men can grow taller.
  Bethan was at a loss.  “Aye, you
did, but…” she trailed off under his penetrating gaze.  “I’m very glad to see
you,” she finished.  Perhaps now he would smile at her, bathing her in his
approval.

Garan nodded and
remained silent.

“It’s my morning off,”
added Bethan.  “Let me call Enid.  She’ll want to greet you.”

Before she could call,
he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.  “Nay, I’ll speak to her later. 
Let me tell you my plans.  We’ll sit.”  He waited for her to sit and then
perched by her side, his sandaled feet stretched out awkwardly, as if he were
more used to manmade chairs.

“Now, I wish to leave
tomorrow,” he stated.

“Tomorrow?” 

“Aye, tomorrow
afternoon.  I’ve come with a small party of like-minded men and women.  We’ll
be traveling toward the northern border.  We, however, will go across alone
after we have been married.  The rest of the party will spread out along the
southern part of the Lothian border.  ‘Tis an area already evangelized
sparsely.  I wish to go where none have gone before.  Are you prepared to do
this with me, Bethan?”  His eyes bored into her.  She felt as if he could
divide her soul and spirit with that gaze.

“Aye,” she managed after
a few moments.  “You ken I gave you my promise.”

He stared at her. 
“Good,” he answered, a slight smile emerging at last.  “I shall need a virtuous
helpmate.”

Will he come to love
me?
  The thought
came into Bethan’s mind, but she dismissed it quickly. 
Isn’t it better to
be valued than loved?

Camelot

“My lady, the queen
wishes to speak with you.”  Nia stood waiting for Tarian’s approval.

Tarian raised blank eyes
to Nia’s face.  “Show my lady in, Nia.”

Nia nodded.  “Aye, my
lady.”  The maidservant opened the door and admitted the king’s wife.

On shaky legs, Tarian
stood as the high noblewoman entered.  “My lady,” she murmured, lowering her
eyes.

Gwynhwyfar rushed
forward and took Tarian’s hands in hers.  “Oh, Tarian, Tarian.  What a terrible
thing to happen!”  She drew Tarian toward the chairs near the hearth.  “And to
happen to you, the most virtuous of us all!  I envied you your goodness to such
a wicked man, when I am so wicked to such a good man as I have.”

Tarian merely nodded and
looked toward the fire.  “And do you know what the king has decreed, my lady?”
she asked, hardly caring.

Gwynhwyfar bit her lip. 
“I came to bring you news before the message came, Tarian.  I thought it would
be better from a friend.  And I do count myself that to you still, Tarian.  A
friend.”  She looked earnestly into Tarian’s eyes.

“I know you do, my
lady,” Tarian replied.  “So what does the king say?”

“He says,” Gwynhwyfar
began, “that there is no evidence against you that can convict you
of…adultery.”

Tarian let out a sigh of
relief. 
Not the death sentence, then.

“But,” the queen went
on, her green eyes troubled, “your husband has declared that he has found you
unclean in his eyes.  And, as you probably know, Tarian, that is enough cause
to force the king to grant a divorce.”

“A divorce?”  The word
was terrible to her.

Gwynhwyfar nodded. 
“Aye.  ‘Twill be as if your marriage had not occurred.”

“But I have done nothing
wrong, my lady!  He, he has been unfaithful to me!”

“I know.  But the law
and custom favor Drustan.  Arthur has tried to be as lenient as possible.  You
take back with you your dowry.”

Tarian shook her head. 
“My dowry will return to the king of Cantia.”  She raised tear-filled eyes to
the queen.  “And I?  Where will I go?”

The queen was silent. 
Tarian knew where she must go.  Back home, back to her uncle, back to her
mother and father, to Cantia.  The shunned former wife of a respectable lord,
who had accused her of adultery. 

No one will take me
for a wife.  All will view my child as the result of fornication.  I will be a
shame to my father and mother.  My uncle will despise me.  The king of Cantia
may exile me, if he is very angry.  Why, why did this have to happen, O Lord? 
I tried to obey You.  And now what future will I have?

And commonsense answered
her: 
No future at all.

32

Summer Country

Calum breathed deeply. 
His legs took long strides across the newly-greening meadow. 
I feel like
I’m living for the first spring in my life.  Lord my God, thank You.
  In
his scrip, he felt his small volume of Scripture bounce against his leg.

But I have trusted in
your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.  I will sing to
the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Ah, here was the place. 
Just a stade or two away from his borrowed cottage.  He knelt down, setting to
work immediately.  Smiling, Calum remembered his brother Kieve’s words
yesterday regarding this house and tract:

“’Tis yours as long
as you wish, brother.”  The younger man paused.  “Indeed, the whole of our
family’s land is yours by birthright.”

Calum had shook his
head.  “I’ve no wish to take it, Kieve.  It’s yours and your family’s.  I have
received more in this visit than I ever thought I would.  But I will take up
your offer to let me stay in that cottage.”

“Good.  For long, I
hope?”

“I don’t know.  I
will help you with the sheep, if you’ll let me.  And I have a little money from
my previous work.  I need time apart.”

Calum gave a heavy last blow to the
wood so that it would stand firmly.  He raised his eyes up to the oak tree, still
wreathed with mistletoe.  Cairine had died in this place.  And another man,
Heddwyn had received the first pangs of life here.

Her death birthed his
life.
  Calum stood, a joy so deep running through his soul that he could
not smile. 
‘Tis all a mercy.  ‘Twas always so, but I didn’t see it. 
The
tears ran down his cheeks as he knelt on the grass, thanksgiving bubbling
through his heart. 
Thank you, Lord Jesus.

After a few moments, he
looked up at the waist-high cross he had just planted in the earth.  Deeply
carven into the wood, its letters read in Latin, “Absorta est mors in
victoria.”

Death is swallowed up
in victory.

Oxfield

It would be as if they’d
never parted.  He was sure of it.  Being with Aine would help him wait out the
short time before he could claim Dunpeledyr as his own.  Riding toward the
closed gates, their iron shining in the noon light, Deoradhan inwardly raced
through them, into the courtyard, to the kitchen where Aine would stand.  Her
arms would open, ready to receive him.

We will marry
immediately,
he decided.  Smiling, he remembered how he had pressed Aine to
accept his ever-more-warm embraces last autumn just before he’d left.  At last,
she’d pulled away from him.  He’d questioned her, but she’d said that she
wished to wait to be fully his until they married.

“Why?” he had asked. 
“The ancient customs do not dictate that.  ‘Tis only the Christian way.”

“Aye,” she’d replied
in her only moment of rebellion against him, “but I wish to wait.  For my
mother’s sake, Deoradhan.  Please.”

And he’d agreed, though
he desired her so.  And had been faithful to her since. 
Now at last I shall
drink my wine with my milk, as Solomon says.

He drew his gelding up
before the gate.  “Deoradhan, long-absent, requests entrance,” he called out.

The gates swung wide. 
He barely greeted his old acquaintances, seeing none of their faces.  Handing
the reins over to a stableboy, Deoradhan found himself running toward the
kitchen door.  He thrust it open and came face-to-face with Deirdre.

“Deirdre,” he greeted,
breathing to calm himself.  “Where’s Meghyn?”

Deirdre’s mouth fell
open, and Deoradhan felt dread begin to steal away a little of his excitement. 
“What is it, Deirdre?” he said, looking her straight in the eyes.

She swallowed.  “Come
in, Deoradhan.  And welcome back.  Aine will be glad to see you, I know.”

Deoradhan stepped into
the entryway.  A couple stepped in behind him, and he turned to see who ‘twas. 
Oh, that country girl of whom Calum was so fond.  And a tall, pale man with
her.  What was her name?  Oh, aye.  “Bethan, hello,” he said.

The brown-haired girl
smiled.  “Hello, Deoradhan.  Welcome.”  She glanced at her companion, and they
moved ahead of Deirdre and Deoradhan into the main room.

He followed Deirdre over
to the hearth, noting that Meghyn was nowhere to be found.  “Have a seat,
Deoradhan,” Deirdre invited, her long fingers motioning to a chair.

“Tell me at once,
Deirdre,” Deoradhan ordered, sitting on the edge of his chair.

The young woman sighed. 
“She’s dead, Deoradhan.  She died months ago.  I thought you might already
know.”

A blow, indeed.  Meghyn
was no more than forty-five.  And so dear to him. 
Dear as a mother to me.
 
Tears came to his eyes, and he found he couldn’t speak.

“She wanted me to tell
you, Deoradhan, that she loved you no matter what has happened.  And that she
will meet you in the kingdom that never ends.”  Deirdre raised her eyes to meet
Deoradhan’s.  “She loved you dearly, you know.”

“I know.” 
Everyone I
have loved has been taken from me.  Except for one.
  “Where is Aine?” he
asked, rising to his feet and blinking away his tears with a shaky breath.

“She is resting in the
next chamber.”

“Resting?”  Deoradhan
had never known the lively girl to nap.  “Is she ill?”

Deirdre gave him a
quizzical look.  “Women do rest when they are like this, Deoradhan.”  She
rose.  “I will go get her.”

Aine must be ill. 
Deoradhan stopped Deirdre with a hand to her arm.  “Nay.  I will go.”  Heart
pounding, he stepped toward the archway separating the rooms.

He did not need to
enter.  Apparently, the one for whom he longed had already risen from her
sleep.  She came to the doorway as he approached.  He had never felt such shock
as he did in that moment.

The girl who stood
before him was not the Aine he remembered, the one whom he had dearly held in
his waking dreams. 
Who is this?
  His mind blanked, and he thought he
would be sick.

She stood there, stringy
hair hanging around her thin white face, the only familiar part being her huge
dark eyes, begging him, pleading with him.

Pleading with him to do
what?  Accept… that?  That swollen belly that could give testimony to only one
thing?

Treachery.

Deoradhan stumbled back,
head spinning

Aine—for he must call
her something—heaved her way toward him, hands outstretched.  He drew back as
if from an asp.  “Don’t touch me,” he gasped, feeling as if her leprosy would
spread to him.  “Get away from me.”

Aine’s dry lips fell
open.  “Please, Deoradhan.  Please, let me explain.”

He blinked.  “Explain?”
he said, staring at her, his eyes avoiding that burden at her waist.

She looked around,
obviously uncomfortable that others were in the room.  “I…I didn’t mean for
this to happen.”

He snorted.  He couldn’t
help it.

Tears rose in Aine’s
eyes.  “Please, Deoradhan, forgive me.  ‘Twas sin, but—”

“But what?”

Silence.  He waited,
bitterness quickly turning any love he had for her into hatred.  “Cannot you
forgive me, Deoradhan?  ‘Twas not all my fault.  If you knew…”

“I don’t care how it
happened,” he finally burst out.  “It happened.”

He saw that his words
broke her and was glad, feeling the hatred saturate his spirit.  “Can you
change it, Aine?” he demanded.  “Well, can you?”

She shook her head.

“’Tis over, Aine,” the
words poured out of his mouth like poison.  “I never loved you.  I only thought
I did.  I will not be a cuckold nor a husband to a woman who thinks so little
of her promises.”

Aine stared at him, then
glanced at those around them.  A sob burst up from her, as Deoradhan had never
heard from her before.  She rushed past him, past them all, out into the
courtyard.

Woodenly, he moved to
sit back down before the hearth again.

“Deoradhan,” Deirdre
spoke after a long time of silence.  “We thought ‘twas your child she carried.”

He shook his head. 
I
have nothing left.  Nothing but sorrow, pain, and my own hatred.

Camelot

“’Tis the last of it, my
lady.”

Nia’s voice cut through
Tarian’s thoughts.  “Thank you, Nia.” 
All is ready to go with me.  If I had
given into Drustan’s wishes, life would have been simpler.  I would be packing
to go home to Oxfield, not to Cantia.
  She forced a smile.  “I appreciate
all that you’ve done to help me.”

The servant woman shook
her head.  “Nay, my lady, ‘tis the least I can do.” Impetuously, it seemed, she
picked up Tarian’s hand and kissed it.  “May the Lord bless you for keeping His
ways, my lady.  May His goodness and mercy follow you all the days of your
life.”

Tarian stared at her. 
“Thank you, Nia,” she stammered, pulling the maid toward her in a fierce
embrace.

It was the will of
the Lord to crush me…