Alicia Roque Ruggieri (26 page)

41

Summer Country

She is going to die. 
I am going to lose her.
  The child would not come, no matter how Aine groaned and strained, her
frail limbs shaking with effort.

Calum wiped the sweat
off Aine’s face and forced himself to reassure her with a smile.  He must be
strong for her.  She had lost consciousness once in pain already. 
She has
no strength left, Lord.  Please let the child come.
  He kissed her brow
tenderly.  Such love had entered his heart for this woman in the few weeks he
had known her.

“Water,” Aine moaned. 
“Please.”

Calum rose and went to
the water bucket once more. 
Do not take her from me,
he pleaded.  He
turned with the cup of water, and his heart ached again at the sight of his
wife writhing, powerless against her agony.

Please, Lord, do not
take her from me.  Take the child, take anything, but not her.

Camelot

‘Twas dawn.  Feeling the
cool darkness lift around him, Deoradhan turned his steps toward the fortress
again.  He had spent the remainder of the night walking the fields,
remembering, repenting, submitting.  ‘Twas a new sensation, having a lord other
than himself to rule his thoughts, actions, and feelings.  So many faces came
to his mind, so many people he had wronged.  Meghyn, Arthur, Aine.  So much to
make right.

Never had the grass
appeared so alive, never before had his heart rejoiced to see squirrels and
birds scurrying and swooping in the faint morning light.  Joy flooded him in
great throbbing pulses. 
I am free from my old desires,
he realized. 
Free
to do as ‘twas meant for me to do and, what’s more, at liberty to become who I
was meant to be.

He broke into a run and
entered the fortress gates gasping for breath.  The guards admitted him with
strange looks, but he grinned back at them and continued on his way.

“Where is the king?” he
asked a familiar attendant to the Pendragon.

“At breakfast,” the man
replied, “in his chambers.”

Deoradhan grasped the
man’s shoulder.  “Thank you.”  His feet flew over the stones, and he arrived at
Arthur’s rooms at a sprint.

I must calm myself,
or he’ll think I’ve gone mad. 
A chuckle burst from Deoradhan. 
He’ll
think it already when I say what I’ve come to tell him.
  He raised a hand
and knocked quickly.

A servant opened the
door a crack.  “The king is at breakfast and won’t be dis—”

“Tell him ‘tis
Deoradhan.  He will see me,” interrupted Deoradhan with a smile.

The young man raised his
eyebrows but retreated to do as Deoradhan asked.  A moment later, the servant
had returned.  “The king will see you, my lord.”

Deoradhan nodded and
entered behind the servant.  Arthur sat at a low table, eating cheese and
bread.

“Deoradhan,” he greeted. 
“What is it?  I didn’t expect to see you until the trial this morning.”

Deoradhan sat down
opposite the king.  “I’ve come to speak to you about that, my lord,” he began. 
“I cannot testify against Weylin.”

Arthur sat silent. 
Stunned, Deoradhan knew.  “What has brought about this change of heart, lad?”
he finally asked.

Deoradhan smiled.  “I
realized, my lord, that I could not accuse another of the same sins of which I
am guilty.”

Arthur did not
understand.  Deoradhan could see it in his face.  Gently, he knelt beside the
king.  “My lord, you have been very kind to me in offering this.  Despite my
ingratitude over the years, you have always held out your hand to me.  I’m
sorry for the wrongs I’ve done you.”

‘Twas obvious he had
baffled the king.  Arthur slowly answered, “You do know, Deoradhan, that if you
don’t bring these charges against Weylin, his line will retain his lands. 
Weylin will receive the death sentence, but Dunpeledyr will go to Solas, his
heir.”  He paused.  “You will have no claim on it nor the chance of a claim
once Weylin is dead.  Dunpeledyr will be lost to you forever.”

With fresh joy,
Deoradhan realized he felt no regret.  “Then it is lost, my lord.”  He smiled
thoughtfully.  “I think I have had enough of houses and lands to last me for
one lifetime.  I have spent too much time trying to gain them, at any rate. 
From now on, by God’s grace, I will be content with what He deems right.”

Arthur nodded. 
“Alright, lad.”

Deoradhan looked the
king in the eyes.  “I do not mind, my lord,” he said softly, “if you call me
your son.”

Summer Country

Eilley had come at
last.  Calum had seen the apprehension grow on her face as she examined Aine.

“You did everything that
could be done, Calum,” his brother’s wife murmured.  “Let me help her for a
bit.  Take a breather outside.” 

Calum knelt beside the
bed, his eyes locked onto Aine’s countenance.  Her eyes had been closed, but
she opened them at Eilley’s words.

“Go ahead, Calum,” she
whispered.  “But don’t be long.”

With a gentle touch from
her rough-hewn hand, Eilley guided him toward the door.  He stumbled outside
into the light of early morning, nearly blinded after the cottage’s dimness. 
It seemed so strange to him that the sun had risen as usual, that the sheep
bleated in the nearby fields, that bees flew past on their way to pollen-rich
flowers.  So strange when inside Aine lay…

He shook his head and
slid to the ground. 
Lord, let her live.

~ ~ ~

As though from a far-off
distance, Aine felt the woman’s hands smooth back her hair, wash her arms,
adjust her pillows.  The pain had continued and increased until Aine could no
longer think. 
Let it be over soon,
she pleaded. 
And please let this
child live.

In the midst of the
pain, she felt Jesus’ presence more intensely than she had before.  ‘Twas as if
He sat by her as the pains came.  Sometimes, Calum’s face seemed to become His,
his eyes flooded with sympathy and sweet comfort.  Once, she began the question
in her spirit,
Why…
  But His face came before her again, and her question
faded in the brightness of His countenance.

If you will take me,
my Savior…and the child…watch over Calum.  Don’t let the grief overcome him,
her
heart asked, sure that the request would be granted.

Another numbing pain
poured through her body.  Eilley’s form grew dark. 
‘Tis the end,
she
realized, and her eyes slid shut as her senses faded. 
O Lord, be with me.

42

Cantia

Tarian was weeding in her
parents’ garden when the messenger came.  She stood up quickly at the sight of
the royal crest on his tunic and wiped her hands on her simple garment.  She
saw the messenger’s eyes narrow and his hand hesitate over giving her the
scroll.

“You are Lady Tarian,
aye?” he questioned.

What noblewoman would
weed a garden?  A disgraced one who has nothing to offer her family but what
her hands can do.
  She gently took the sealed scroll from him.  “Aye, I
am.  Do you…Do you wait for a reply?”

“I do.”

She nodded and dropped
her eyes to the scroll.  Her fingernails, chipped and stained green and brown,
peeled back the wax seal.  She skimmed the document; then, only half-believing
what she read, went back to the beginning:

Arthur,
High King of all Britain and High Judge, to Lady Tarian, formerly of Oxfield. 
Greetings.  Drustan, lord of Oxfield, advisor to the king, sleeps.  The king
requests your immediate attendance upon receipt of this letter.

“Drustan…sleeps?” she wondered
aloud, knowing ‘twas a euphemism for death.  “How?”

“Protecting the king, my
lady,” the messenger answered, his face unemotional.  “He was related to you?”

“Aye,” she breathed. 
“Aye, he was.”

Summer Country

Calum felt someone
shaking his shoulder.  He lifted his head from where it rested on the edge of
Aine’s bed.  Blearily, he looked up to see Eilley gazing down at him, tears in
her eyes.  “’Tis over,” she whispered, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

His eyes turned toward
Aine’s still, white face supported by the pillows.  The sorrow rolled over his
soul, and he began to sob great cries that wracked his shoulders.  Eilley
wrapped her arms around his head, drawing him to her. 
Your will be done,
his heart wept. 
Your will be done.

Rising to his knees, he
reached a hand to stroke Aine’s hollow cheek.  “She is at rest now,” he
murmured, his tears dropping on the woolen blanket.

“Aye, she is at rest,
Calum,” replied Eilley.

He leaned forward and
kissed her pale lips.  Slowly sitting back on his heels, he looked into that
face full of a serenity derived from the Prince of Peace alone.  “She has more
life now than ever before,” he said, not caring that his tears ran unchecked.

“I don’t know about
that, Calum,” he was surprised to hear Eilley reply.  He turned, and she gave
him a smile.  “She has a long recovery ahead of her.  She’ll need many days to
regain her strength.  And the child’s a small one, though hearty.”

Stupefied, Calum could
only stare at his sister-in-law.  “What do you mean?  I thought she was…”  He
couldn’t finish.

Eilley chuckled.  “You
thought she was dead?  Well, then, the Lord has given her back to you from the
dead.  Like Lazarus, aye?”  She couldn’t stop giggling, and Calum slowly joined
her, tears mixing with his laughter.

“Where is the child?” he
finally managed.

“Beside her mother,
sleeping.”

Calum rose to his feet
and moved back the blanket ever so gently.  There, nestled beside Aine, he saw
a tiny swaddled bundle, soundly sleeping.  “May I hold it?” he asked Eilley.

She smiled.  “Of course,
if you don’t wake her.  ‘Tis a little daughter you have.”

Delicately, feeling like
one who is about to smell a precious rose, Calum lifted the infant and held it
to his chest, filled with gratitude.

“What will you name the
child?” questioned Eilley.

Calum lowered a kiss to
the small reddened brow.  “Mercy,” he said.  “We will call her Mercy.”

43

Dunpeledyr

“And what kind of work have you
done?” the gracious auburn-haired woman asked. 

Bethan smiled back.  “I spent half a
year in Oxfield, in Southern Logress, my lady.  I worked as a kitchen servant
there, but I’m able to do any kind of household work as well.”

Lady Seonaid nodded.  “Good.  Well,
Bethan, I think we could use your services here.  And your sister’s as well. 
Generally, we move servants from one kind of work to another at Dunpeledyr, and
I doubt that will alter under my son’s leadership.”

Bethan cocked her head.  “I’m sorry,
my lady.  I didn’t know your husband had recently died.”

“Aye, while at the king’s house.” 
The noblewoman stood, quietly thoughtful, as if she’d forgotten Bethan waited
for direction.  “For yet a little while and the wicked shall be no more,”
Bethan heard her murmur, her eyes turned away.

After a few moments, she seemed to
remember Bethan and Enid.  “Oh, aye.  My daughter Lady Fiona will determine
where you are needed at present.  Meanwhile, Lorna will show you where you will
sleep,” she said, nodding toward a woman near her side.

Bethan’s eyes followed the elegant
lady as she moved from the hall.  “Come along, lassies,” the servant woman
Lorna interrupted.  “There’s plenty of room above the stables.”

Bethan put an arm around her
sister’s shoulders and walked after Lorna. 
Lord, You have been gracious to
us.  Be gracious also to my Papa, wherever he is.
  And she knew that He
would be.

Summer Country

Five days after Aine gave birth, Calum
heard horse’s hooves trotting down the lane outside his cottage.  Moments
later, a soft knock came to his ears.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised Aine,
putting aside his little volume.

She smiled, propped up on her
pillows. 
Every day she improves.
  He laid a tender hand on her cheek
and moved to the door.  Opening it, Calum saw Deoradhan on the other side.  He
glanced back toward the bed.  Aine had closed her eyes, dozing, Mercy cuddled
beside her.

“Deoradhan,” he stated quietly. 
What
does he want?  Lord, help me to love him.
 

“Calum, I need to speak with you.”

Calum nodded and drew the door
closed behind him.  From a tree by the lane, he heard a songbird let out its
melodic laughter, and he smiled, thinking to himself that winter was indeed past
and spring had come.

Deoradhan led him toward the cross
up on the hill, not speaking until they had arrived.  Calum watched the younger
man gazed at the wooden memorial.  He smiled.  “‘Death is swallowed up in
victory,’” he murmured and then turned his eyes toward Calum.  “That has become
true in me as well, Calum.”  He sighed and ran his fingers over the carved
words.  “After all those years of shaking my fist at Heaven, He has conquered
me at last.  And I can’t say I’m sorry for it.”

This was unexpected, to say the
least.  Calum felt his mouth drop open.  He was about to speak, but Deoradhan
went on.  “I’ve come back to apologize for the things I said and did.  They
were awful wrongs toward you and especially toward Aine.”  His eyes, clear of
bitterness at last, grew tender mentioning her name.  Calum tensed.  “May I
speak with her, Calum?  Is she still here?”

Calum swallowed.  “Aye, she is,
Deoradhan.  I must tell you…  I…I’ve married her.” 
O Lord, may he
understand!

Deoradhan stood still for a long
moment.  Then he nodded.  “’Tis as it should be,” he murmured.

After a moment, Calum laid a hand on
his friend’s shoulder.  “Come into the house, Deoradhan.”

Camelot

“The king will see you now, my
lady,” the attendant directed his words toward Tarian.  Arrayed in her finest,
she nodded and moved through the open doors to the hall.

Arthur rose from his throne when she
entered.  She curtsied low, and he took her hand, raising it to his lips. 
“Lady Tarian, you are welcome.  Thank you for coming.”

She nodded.  “My lord,” she
greeted.  “I trust you are well.”

He smiled, the weariness retreating
from his face like the gloom when the sun appears.  “I will get to the point
quickly, my lady.  As you know, your husband, Drustan, is dead.  He rode too
near my side, and a traitor’s arrow took him rather than me.”  He paused.  “I
don’t know whether this news brings you grief or not.”

Tarian remained silent.

“However,” continued the king, “what
concerns us today is this:  Your husband was rich in lands.  His wife should
inherit those lands until her death, when they will pass to his nearest male
relative, whether that would be his son, cousin, nephew.”

Tarian felt that the king wished for
a response.  “But, as my lord knows, I am no longer Drustan’s wife by law.  You
judged me yourself, my king, and decreed the divorce,” she said quietly, hands
folded before her.

The king nodded.  “Aye, I did.  Yet
I did not believe nor do I now believe the charges laid at your feet by your
husband.  I said that at the time, didn’t I?”

Tarian nodded.  If he hadn’t, she
may have been executed for adultery rather than merely dismissed as an
unsatisfactory wife.

Arthur moved over to the table near
his throne.  Tarian saw a parchment lying there.  He picked it up.  “This is
the single document that declares you divorced from Lord Drustan, my lady.”

What is the purpose of this?  Did
I come from Cantia for this?
  Patiently, she nodded again.  “Aye, my lord.”

He stepped to the huge hearth,
blazing to keep away the spring chill.  Without any hesitation, the king tossed
the document into the flames.  Startled, Tarian met his eyes.

“Oxfield is yours, my lady,” he
stated.  “There is no existing record of your marriage coming to an end.  As
far as I am concerned, you are the lady of Oxfield until your death.”

Tears rose to Tarian’s eyes.  “Thank
you, my lord,” she choked out.  “May God reward you for dealing righteously
with me.”