Debra Kay Leland (17 page)

The soft spring rains came and with it the sight of tender green grasses.  It was too early to work the fields, and too muddy to do aught else but work in the house.  William had finished the chairs and sat whittling by the fire quietly.  Miranda watched her husband struggle to his feet.  He had lost weight, his handsome face was drawn and haggard, but he complained not.  She wondered if he knew…  Wondered if he only was trying to protect her from the inevitable and yet she could not bring herself to speak of such things with him.  He rubbed the back of his neck and staggered toward the bed.  She jumped up from the new chair her husband had made and raced to his side, threading her arms around his thin waist and steadying him as he went.  His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched against the pain, his breathes raged from his lungs as he took the final steps and collapsed onto the soft mattress.  “
Phillip
…”  His voice was choked.  He feared leaving her alone, feared after the thing that would take him from her…

She bit back tears. 
“Do not worry, my love.  I’ll go get him.  Just rest, husband, just rest…”
  She pressed him back and took off his shoes.  When she had him settled, she covered him gently and sank down aside him on the floor.  She took his hand and felt it trembling in her own as she prayed, ‘…
Let it not be tonight, let him live yet another day…’

Through the long night she sat in vigil, waiting, and praying, and hoping beyond hope.  By sunrise his body had finally relaxed into a deep deadly sleep she feared he would not awaken from.  The morning passed, and Phillip and Thomas came to the house noticing the animals had not been tended—it was that, that told them something was indeed wrong.  They sat with her as the day went on.  No one spoke, but they all knew…  She remained by his side and would not allow herself to be consoled, she was losing him, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to let him go…

It was evening when he finally awakened, weakened by the pain in his head that it was getting worse and they all knew it; though no one spoke of their fears aloud.  He smiled weakly and touched her cheek softly.  “…
What a lovely thing to awaken to, my love
.”

“Are—are ye hungry?”

“…Aye, I am...”

She kissed his cool lips and fought back tears, she would not speak of her fears, would not let them be true…!

T
he jubilant sound of revelry rang from the Red Wolf Inn; its occupants held their cups of ale to the winner of the arm wrestling match in the back of dim the tavern as the drunken man pushed away from the table and stood.  “
Lift thy cups, men!  To James Sheridan—”
  The man lifted the his own cup in one hand and the winner’s arm in the other, his drunken words shouted out in a loud and boisterous voice in the dim crowded room. 
“—may thy arm always best thy enemies—and find eager young maids within its reach!”

The men roared
.  “Here, here!”

James stumbled back and bowed drunkenly, then turned to his friends and sat down with a thump.  He raked a hand through his dark hair, then grabbed his cup and emptied it, slamming it down on the table in front of him with a thud.  He smiled and beamed happily at his two friends.  “There!  Pay up!  Ye owe
me five pieces silver each!”

His friends reached in their purses and took out his due, before one laughed
, “Come now, James.  We had best be off before we are too drunk to even ride our horses!”

The two men both with dark hair stood and finished their cups smiling at the bar maid as she made her way through the crowd.  James stood and tossed her a silver coin making her beam happily at him.  He chucked her under the chin.  “If I weren’t so drunk, lass, I’d marry thee.”

She giggled and slipped the coin into the pocket in her skirt.  He made his way through the crowded room, being jostled this way and that, drunkenly stumbling as he went.  He heard a low voice hiss in his ear. 
“For Glenton Moor…!”
  But before he had time to think further he felt the knife as it was driven to the hilt in his quivering stomach.  The air whooshed from his lungs and he slumped to the side as the man merely slipped past unnoticed into the crowed room.  Another to his left caught him as he slumped forward and jokingly yelled to his friends. 
“Hey now!  Thy friend is too drunk to follow!  Come get the sorry lot, before he falls to the floor!”

The two looked at the crumpled man in his arms and laughed as they threaded back through the crowd to get him. 
“Come now, James, stand up or we’ll have to carry thee home!”

They each took an arm and hauled him to his feet.  And it was then that someone noticed the blood.  A cry went up silencing those in the room.  “
He’s dead!  The Earl’s son is dead!”

A panicked frenzy ensued, men ran from the building, no one wanted to be found there and be blamed for the murder of the future Earl.  James friends grabbed the men as they raced from the building trying to recognize faces or find a man with blood on his hands, but none were found…

T
he sound of horses brought her awake, she climbed out of bed glancing at her husband who slumbered on still.  He was so thin and pale, a mere shell of the man she had married, yet she loved him even more today than the day before!  She slipped on a shawl and went to peer out the shutters.  She saw the ten man escort and the pennant of a golden lion against a red background; she knew the symbol, it belonged to the Earl of Whittington and
he
had come—for what purpose she did not know, but
he
had come…!

The knock at the door made her jump, she touched the latch and cast a look at her husband who had now awakened and was staring at her with dazed eyes. 
“…Who is it, lass?”
  He said and struggled to sit up.

“They—they bear a
pennant of a golden lion...”

His lips drew into a grim line at her words as he pulled a tunic over his thin frame and
stood.  “…I shall see to it…”

He walked to
the door slowly and opened it.

His father’s eyes came to rest on the man who was once his younger son, now thin and frail.  “…
William
…”  His words were a mere whisper.

“…Aye father, ‘tis I or what’s left of me.”
  He glanced at his wife who stood with worriedly eyes by the fire.
  “Why have ye come?”

The old man reached out and drew his son into his arms, almost wincing at his frailness he found there.  He released him and looked down, his news hardly seemed appropriate now.  “I—I came to tell
thee that thy brother—is dead.”

William looked down and drew a soft sigh.  “I am sorry for the
e, father.”

The old man reached out and touched his son’s thin arm.  “Ye have to come back with me, William; ye are my only heir now.  Once ye are
back, ye shall again be well…”

The young man looked up with distant eyes.  “…Look at me, father… look at me—I too am dying…”

“…Nay… William, I—I cannot lose thee also…!”

William glanced at his wife who stood looking at him with tears streaming silently down her lovely face; he knew they had yet to speak of such things, but he knew she realized it too.  “
…Aye father, I die.”

Edmund glanced at the young girl also who stood in bed clothes, a shawl around her thin shoulders. 
“Is she thy wife?”

William nodded his head. 
“…Aye, but there is no child, father.  I shall not leave thee with an heir, I fear.”

The old man went still.  “
Tell me it is not so…”

“
…I cannot…  Go home, father, and live in peace…  I shall say goodbye to thee—lest—lest I shall not see thy face—again.”
  He stepped forward and hugged his father fiercely; the old man choked back tears and held his frail son.

“…
Come back with me, William…”

“…Nay, I shall die here.  This is my home now.  Father—please, leave me to die in peace—do not make me to mourn for that which I cannot change…”

The old man looked at him, and then nodded slowly, kissing his son’s sunken cheek.  “…
I never stopped loving thee, never
…”

William bit back tears.  “…
Nor I thee…”

The old man kissed him again and slowly walked away, not wishing to torment his son with things that were not important now…

He mounted his horse and watched the door as it slowly closed, he longed with all his heart to stay and wait for the end, but the boy was struggling and had chosen to die alone as was a man’s right, and he would not harm him further despite the ache in his chest to be near him again.

William closed the door and laid his forehead against the cool rough wood, knowing it was for the best to send his father away.  He didn’t want him to see him die, he didn’t want anyone to be there when he passed on, for he was not sure if he himself could let go of life if he saw the tears in their eyes…  Miranda came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him softly, laying her head on his once muscular back, silent tears streaming down her pale cheeks.  He didn’t turn around as he spoke. 
“…Ye knew it was so, and ye must let me go when it is time…”
  The choked sob in his voice made her shake from the violence of her own tears. 
“…I have—loved thee, lass…  Phillip and Thomas shall care for thee, unless—unless ye choose to go back to thy father...”

Her sobs nearly broke his heart.

“…Do not worry, lass, I’ve prayed for thee, and all shall be well…” 
He turned then and held her to his fail body, wishing he could hold her forever. 
“It won’t be long now…”

“
N—nay, do not say it!  William… I—I am with child
…”

He stiffened at her words then drew her away from himself and touched her soft cheek with his hand, a teary smile on his thin face.  “
A child… my child
…”  He smiled then. 
“…’Tis a gift from the Almighty from me to thee.  Raise it well, my love, tell it—tell it of the good things of its father…”

She nodded and bit back another sob.  He looked at her and laid a thin hand on her slightly rounded stomach, a smile filled with regret upon his pale lips.  His child, a child he would never see, nor hold in his arms…  A child who could be his father’s only heir, but such things were not in his han
ds to decide; and even now, he would not to speak of them to her…

William sat in the chair looking over the now lush spring grasses that grew
in the meadow.  His heart beat erratically, though he did not mention it to his men or his wife; the end was near, he could sense it…  Miranda came to sit by him and laid her head on his lap.  He stroked her soft hair and smiled.  “…
I shall miss ye, lass...”

She kissed his hand tenderly, longingly
, but could not find words to say that which lie in her heart for indeed she only wished to beg him to stay with her forever...

“…
Know that I love ye, and that I shall wait for ye on the other side
…”  He felt his heart strain at his own words, and clenched his teeth against the real pain he felt.  But he would speak the words he longed for her to hear, before time was lost to him forever.  “…
Do what ye must do to be happy, for thy sake and for my child’s...”

She nodded an
d slipped her arms around him.

His grimaced
from the pain in his chest once again.  “…
I—I would go look at the meadow alone now, lass.  Ye—ye shall stay here….”

He gently pulled her arms from around his thin waist and stood shakily.  She drew back and wiped silent tears from her eyes—longing to beg him not to go, not to leave her, but she would not break his heart with such words, for she knew the end would be soon and she wasn’t sure even now that she could let him go...  She kissed his cheek gently and he smiled at her, and then walked unsteadily round the house and towards the meadow.  She went to the corner and watched him as he headed towards a lone oak tree that stood in the center of it, struggling with each stiff step he took.  He sank down beneath it, the old tree hiding him from her eyes.  She stood there but a moment then quietly followed.  She heard him moaning and quickened her steps till she dropped beside him and took his hand.  He opened bloodshot eyes and looked at her, straining for words.  “
…Ye—ye should not be here, lass.  I—I cannot go if I see ye cry…”

She forced tears away and touched his face lovingly. 
“…I shall not leave thee, William….”

She sank down beside him and drew his struggling body into her soft embrace.  Laying his head on her chest, his trembling hand went to their child and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.  His breathes ragged, his body jerked, yet she held him softly, rocking hi
m in her arms as she whispered tenderly to him.

“…
R-receive me—O Lord…“
  He drew stiff, his eyes wide, his breath stilled, and then his body began to tremble and sink away from her though she still held him to her breast, cradling his head in her hand, his teary eyes looked into hers as if holding onto the life he saw there.