Alicia Roque Ruggieri (27 page)

44

Arthur met him with an
embrace.  “Deoradhan,” he smiled.

“My lord king,” Deoradhan
acknowledged.  The submissive title no longer grated on his spirit.

Arthur held up a
scroll.  “A letter has come for you.  From Dunpeledyr.”

Deoradhan met the king’s
eyes for an instant, then took the scroll.  He pried off the seal and ran his
gaze over the words.  “They wish me to return there,” he said, looking up. 
“They want me to come back to Dunpeledyr.”  Joy filled his heart.  “Does my
lord king mind?” he asked.

Arthur smiled and shook
his head.  Deoradhan saw a wistfulness pass through the king’s blue eyes. 
“Nay, lad, go with my blessing,” he murmured.

Deoradhan clasped Arthur
tightly to him.  “Thank you, my lord.”  He paused, then decided to say the
words swelling up in his heart.  “I love you, my lord, as a son loves his
father.  I was a fool to feel and think otherwise before.”

Dunpeledyr

Solas walked through the
guardhouse, his hand on Fiona’s arm.  She whispered descriptions to him as they
went, becoming the new lord’s eyes.

‘Twas an awesome
responsibility, this being master of the fortress.  At times, Solas felt like
Solomon when the kingship of Israel fell upon his shoulders. 
Aye, I am like
a little child, Lord.  Give me wisdom to govern well, to please You,
he
prayed daily when he woke
.

He and Fiona had
finished their survey of the guardhouse, finding it in good order to the best
of their knowledge.  They stepped out of the cool building into the bright
midday sun, and Fiona stopped short.  “’Tis Deoradhan,” she said.  “Padruig, I
mean.”

“Where?”

“He’s just riding
through the gate,” she answered.  “He’s seen us now.”

Solas felt his heart
speed in excitement.  “Let’s go to meet him, Fiona.”

She led them forward
across the wide courtyard.  “Padruig,” she called out.

They halted.  Solas
stretched out his arm and felt a strong grip on his forearm.  “Brother,” he
greeted.  “I am glad you’ve returned home.”

“Solas, Fiona.  Thank
you for asking me to come.”

Solas kept his hold on
his brother’s arm.  “Will you speak with me apart a moment, Padruig?  You don’t
mind if we call you by that name, do you?  That’s how Mama always speaks of
you.”

“And you’re an exile no
longer,” added Fiona.

“You may call me what
you wish.  And I will speak with you, Solas, for as long as you’d like.”

Solas smiled.  “Come,
then.  We’ll walk in the fields.”

~ ~ ~

That evening, just as
dusk kissed the earth with her soft darkness, Deoradhan—
Padruig
, he
reminded himself with a smile—strolled through the courtyard once more.  His
mind repeated the conversation with his brother, and he marveled at all that
had occurred:

“Dunpeledyr is yours
if you want it, brother.  I am only the second-born to our mother,” Solas
said.  “The estate is yours by birthright.”

Padruig had thought
for only a moment.  Then, he knew what he must say.  “Nay, Solas.  God has
chosen you to lead this people, not me.”  He sighed in relief.  “There was a
time when I would have leapt at the words you just spoke.  But now I find I’m
content wherever God places me.  What do the Scriptures say?  ‘I would rather
be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in tents of wickedness,’
aye?”

Slowly, Solas
nodded.  “Alright.  Let it be so, then.”

Padruig let his steps
take him into the stable, warm from the animals’ heat.  He moved over to
Alasdair’s stall and picked up a brush.  He’d not had a chance to groom the
horse himself after their journey here.  He knew a stable lad had done it
already, but the horse welcomed his master’s company.

A little loose hay
sprinkled down from the rafters above him.  Padruig looked up.  He knew
servants slept in the loft.  Humming an old hymn, he went back to brushing the
gray horse.

Movement to his right,
outside the stall, caught the corner of his eye.  He turned his head to see a
girl slipping by, a cup for water in her hand.  Thinking nothing more of it, Padruig
returned to grooming Alasdair.

A little later, the same
girl walked by again on her way back to the loft, he surmised.  With this
second glance, though, he thought she looked familiar. 
Odd.
  Padruig
gave Alasdair a last pat, then moved out of the stall.

She had reached the
ladder, but Padruig could see her profile in the dim light entering the open
stable doors.  “Bethan, is that you?” he called.

The girl turned, the cup
full of water in her hand.  “Aye, ‘tis.”

He took a few steps
toward her.  “What are you doing up here in Lothian, lass?”

She stood there, unease
written across her face.  “I… came with a larger party but decided to travel
with them no further.”

That man,
Padruig
remembered. 
The one at her side in Oxfield.  He must have misled her…
 
Aloud, he said, “So you are working here then?”

She nodded.  “Aye.  My
little sister works here as well.”

“With no plans to return
south?”

She shook her head, and
they stood silently for a moment.  Then Padruig said, “You don’t seem surprised
to see me here.”

“News of your arrival
traveled quickly, my lord.”  She paused.  “I must go to sleep, my lord.  I rise
early.”

Padruig nodded. 
“Alright.  Good night, Bethan.”

~ ~ ~

Padruig rose early as
well.  Dawn found him walking through the yellowing fields, seeking the Lord’s
face in prayer. 
Once I thought myself so strong, so independent.  Now I
know how weak I am, how helpless.

He turned his feet toward the
fortress, growing high from the hills. 
Dunpeledyr … Place of Spears.  But
You have turned it into a place of mercy for me.

His mind and heart still
engaged in prayer as he went, and he came across Bethan suddenly.  Her brown
hair loose around her shoulders, she knelt in a little hollow in the grass,
evidently praying.  She hadn’t heard him approach, and Padruig stood, watching
her lips moving silently.  He meant to move on before she finished, but the
sight of her devotion so transfixed him that she opened her eyes and found him
there.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 
“I didn’t mean to spy, Bethan.  ‘Twas … so lovely.”

He hadn’t meant to say
that.  She gave him an inquisitive look and rose to her feet, brushing off her
long tunic.  “I can remember a time when you found prayer useless and foolish,
my lord.”

Padruig nodded.  “You
have a good memory, Bethan.  But ‘twas I who was useless and foolish.”

“Is this change of heart
recent, my lord?” Bethan asked, walking toward the walls.

Padruig fell in step
with her. 
She remembers my behavior to Aine not three months ago.
 
“Aye, Bethan, ‘tis.  And ‘tis nothing of me, but all of Christ.”  He stopped,
and she did as well.  “When I saw you last, I said and did terrible things. 
Not to you, I know, but to one whom I vowed to hold dear.”

Bethan bit her lip and
nodded.  “We all do things we ought not do, my lord.  Do you know what has
happened to Aine?”

He was glad to feel no
pain in his reply.  “She has married Calum and given birth to a sweet
daughter.  I saw them both not a month ago.”

Surprise flickered in
Bethan’s eyes, and she walked in silence for a moment.  Finally, she said, “I’m
sorry, Deoradhan—or should I call you Padruig?  I know you loved her.”

“Either name is fine,
lass.”  He shook his head.  “And nay, lass, don’t pity me.  I rejoice with
Calum and Aine.  To tell you the truth, Bethan, Calum loves her more than I
ever did.  He has more capacity for loving others.”

“Because he loves his
God so well,” Bethan commented, plucking a wildflower as they walked.

“Aye,” Padruig agreed. 
“How I wish I could love so well as he.  Calum understands something so simple,
yet so difficult for us mortals to grasp.”

“What is that?”

“He knows that real love
satisfies itself through giving, not taking.  He chose to love Aine when, by my
worthless standard, she was unlovable.  I think of all the times when…”  He trailed
off, and then took a deep breath.  “Let us say that I am determined that the
next time shall be different, by God’s grace.”

His eyes were drawn to
her face as they walked.  A maturity he had not seen before rested there,
integrity made strong through obedience to the living God.
 
Her quiet
strength pervaded the atmosphere around them, in a way similar to Fiona. 
Yet
unlike, too.
  Her nature held rare sweetness.

“God will help you love
as well as Calum, Padruig.  ‘Tis not what we are that matters, but what He is
making us to be.” Bethan answered.  “You’ve come to know the Truth, Padruig. 
‘Twill set you free, you ken.”

Free from the past. 
Free from wrongs done and received.  “Aye,” he agreed.  “It has, lass.”

They walked a few steps
in silence.  “So,” Bethan said at last, “what will you do now?”

“Solas has asked me to
stay here and advise him.  I will act as his ambassador and the manager of his
affairs.”  Padruig paused.  “So I hope to see you often, Bethan.”

He risked a glance at
her face and saw her lips quivering at the corners.  “I hope so, too,
Padruig.”  Her smile blossomed.  “And I am glad you’ve come home.”

Finis