Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck: A Quest Through Time Novel ~ Books 1 & 2) (3 page)

“I accept thee as my vassal,” Riorden whispered and watched as Patrick stood afore him with pride.

“Watch over my brother, Riorden, and do not fail me in his care. I know you will do right by him in continuing his training so that he, too, may be a great knight someday,” Dristan replied, and the two men clasped each other’s shoulders once more.

“Of course, I will ensure his training and care, Dristan.”

Dristan nodded and gave a bit of a smirk. “He can be a bit mischievous, our young Patrick here, which is not much of a surprise, given who his sister is.”

“Dristan…really!” Amiria said, aghast, as she managed to remove a dirk from her boot and point it at her husband.

“You see what I must contend with?” Dristan laughed with an amused quirk of his brow towards his wife. He came to her and rested his hand upon her shoulder, which had a calming effect. “Now I have another, who seems hell bent to avoid wedded bliss no matter how many worthy lads I lay at her feet.”

Lynet could be heard muttering a very unladylike reply and took up a stance at the now vacated window. Everyone in the room knew the reason behind her continued rejections, for Lynet had fallen in love with Amiria’s captain, who had not graced the walls of the castle for nigh unto five years. ’Twas doubtful Ian would return anytime soon.

When the family began to leave the chamber in preparation of Riorden and Patrick’s departure, Riorden went to the young girl. As he drew near, he saw upon her face one lone tear running slowly down her cheek. Before she could brush it away, he reached out to cup her face. Ever so slowly, he brushed his thumb across the smoothness of her face to dry her tears.

He gave her a brief embrace, this young girl who had been like a little sister to him, and took her chin so she would stare up into his eyes.

“If Ian does not come to his senses soon, Lynet, he never will. Do not shed one more of your precious tears on his behalf since he will not be worthy of them,” he whispered. “Promise me you will not spend your life pining away for someone who could not see the prize that was right afore his very eyes. You deserve much better than that.”

Lynet only stood there, trying to find the words to ease his mind.

“Your promise to me, Lynet,” Riorden urged.

Lynet gave a heavy sigh of resignation. “Aye, I promise, Riorden. Safe travels and God speed to you.”

“Good lass. I shall endeavor to return soon to ensure you have kept your word, for I am sure our paths shall cross again.” Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, he left her standing there and made his way to collect his belongings.

The courtyard was filled with familiar faces, people who had come to wish him well as he traveled to serve the king. Riorden’s goodbyes were brief and to the point, for there was no sense dwelling on what this place had come to mean to him. Dristan lifted his hand in farewell, and he returned the gesture. Gathering the reins of his mount, he turned his mighty war horse and proceeded through the inner and outer baileys.

He looked back only once to see Berwyck off in the distance, afore he turned his attention to the road ahead of him. At least, he was not alone with only Patrick for a traveling companion. Aiden had joined his company.

K
atherine pulled
into
the car park of the inn. With a heavy sigh of relief, she turned off the rental car. Leaning her head back, she gratefully closed her eyes amid kudos from her friends for her driving skill. Skill…that word was almost a joke, considering her hands felt as if they were still clenched in a steely grip on the wheel. Driving on the wrong side of the road with everything she knew about driving being backwards was no small feat, and she was glad to have this last leg of their journey at an end.

The four women unloaded their luggage and started making their way to check in. The hotel was small, cozy looking, and fashioned in a lovely Tudor style. Upon entering, Katherine could almost envision the dark paneled room from days of old, filled with locals as they drank their mead or lounged near the fireplace that took the chill from the room. Although exhausted, she took a moment to look with longing out the window at a small portion of Bamburgh Castle in the distance. As much as she wanted to rush there to see its sights, it would have to wait until the morning. With the coming sunset, visiting hours would soon be over for the day.

“Katie,” Juliana called as she waited on the stairs with Emily. “Are you coming?”

Brianna came up next to Katherine and gently took her bag. “It’s been standing there for centuries waiting for you, sis.” Katherine’s face must have shown her desire for where her heart really wanted to take her. “It will still be there for you tomorrow.”

Turning her gaze from the window, she slowly made her way up the stairs, feeling as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Brianna opened the bedroom door, since it was their turn to share a room. It was quaint with tiny lavender floral wallpaper on the walls, rich mahogany bedposts, and easy-on-the-eye, pale blue quilts for bedspreads. Katherine went to one of the beds and lay down as visions of their trip flashed in her memory.

To say this had been a dream vacation would be an understatement. Between the four of them, they had spent a small fortune, but it had been worth every penny. Traveling throughout Scotland and England, they had hit as many sights as they could cram into one day and gotten a good taste of what life here was all about. Emily had looked as though she felt she had tasted heaven itself, Brianna had been busy composing a song, Juliana’s pen never seemed to stop its writing unless she was to take her turn at the wheel, and as for herself…well…Katherine felt that if she were to die tomorrow, she would be content.

There had only been one time that had marred an otherwise perfect vacation for Katherine. The ruins of Warkworth Castle, where they had stopped on their way to Bamburgh, had brought her to her knees in grief. She had no clue as to why such was the case. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen other similar ruins that had also saddened her in their travels within the past week. But for some unknown reason, she couldn’t find any comfort in the hollow shell of the keep, which the ravages of time had been rather unkind to over the centuries. She had almost felt as if a piece of her, inside, had died that day, especially when her friends had to help her from the ground.

Was that really only yesterday?
she wondered, not for the first time this day. What was it about those ruins that could have affected her so? She would have thought such a reaction would occur at Bamburgh. It had taken everything within her not to rush to the castle, if only to lay her hands on its outer walls and feel the cold rough stones beneath her fingertips. She only had to wait until tomorrow for it to become a reality.

Brianna came over to place a light blanket over her. “Get some rest, sis. I’ll take care of putting our stuff away.”

“You sure you don’t want some help,” Katherine said, even as she felt her eye lids become heavy.

“Nah, I got it.”

Katherine rolled over on the bed and watched Brianna begin to busily put away their clothes. She smiled as she heard her friend humming the tune she had been working on for most of the day. With no motivation to do anything else this afternoon, she closed her eyes and dreamed…

H
e stood
before her with his hand outstretched for her to take, a bit of arrogance and impatience clearly etched across his features.

“Is it you?” she heard herself ask, even though she would have known this man before her no matter where in time he had found her.

“I only mean to keep you safe,” he declared, not answering her question as he shifted uneasily on his feet. His eyes were ever watchful on the knights standing guard nearby.

“Yes, I know. Have you seen me before?” she asked quietly, hoping that he, too, had dreamed of her.

He gazed down upon her, searching her face until the ocean winds whipped the hood on her cloak from her head then watched with interest as her hair became tossed about. Finally, he reached out to catch one of her errant curls. The tendril wrapped itself around his hand, almost as if laying some kind of claim to him. He began rubbing the tresses between his fingers as if memorizing the silkiness of her locks. She watched as he came back to his senses, and he frowned, she assumed, at her words. “You’re speech is most strange, mademoiselle.”

“I’m not from…the area.”

“You travel with King Henry? Mayhap, you are one of the ladies in waiting at court?” he inquired. One look at her humble cloak would have told him this wasn’t the case.

“No,” she replied simply, for what explanation of where she came from would make sense to him.

“You’re sire is here then. Perchance, I may return you to his side so I can ensure your safety,” he concluded. Once more, he held out his hand for her to take.

She acknowledged his gesture with only a sad smile. “I suppose I’ll one day see my parents again, but I think it’s impossible for now.”

“Then let me, at the very least, see you inside the keep so I may rest, knowing you are not in danger.”

She looked up into his blue eyes and began to wonder if she’d ever seen their color on another. To say they were blue, didn’t do them justice. She had dreamed of him for so many years, she could only stare in wonder that he really stood before her. There was no doubt she trusted him, so she did the most natural thing she could do. Smiling, she looked into his eyes as she reached out to take his hand.

Neither was prepared for the reaction of their hands touching, nay, going through one another. For in truth, they did not stand there in the flesh. They were but memories of what could have been, if only they had been born in the same century. Their heartrending loss brought tears of sorrow to her eyes. With only one look at his face, she knew he felt it, too.

“I do know of you…” he whispered, his voice like a silken caress across her soul.

“You’re name!” she cried out. “Tell me your name!”

He began to fade from her vision, yet still, she heard his voice clearly inside her head. “Katherine…come back to me, my love─”

“I will find you,” she promised him as a mist appeared, surrounding his body until he was at last taken from her sight. Emptiness consumed her entire being with the knowledge he might be lost to her forevermore. She could do only one thing, now that he had been torn from her side. She wept.

I
will find you
…”
Riorden awoke with a start, still hearing the haunting words and seeing the tears of the woman from his dreams. There had been such longing in her voice that, for some unknown reason, the sound seemed achingly familiar. Yet, he knew her not...or so he thought. So why did he know her name?

He threw the coverlets off and rose naked from his bed. Kneeling afore the hearth, he began to rekindle the few remaining embers into a small semblance of a blaze. It took but a few moments ’til most of the chill began to recede from the room as the fire grew brighter. As he went to grab his tunic, he noticed his hands were actually shaking.
God’s wounds! What is wrong with me?
He continued to watch his hands as if they were not his own ’til, disgusted, he donned his remaining garments.

Despite the fact he had just warmed the room, he went to the shutter and flung it wide open, letting in the cool air to clear his confused head. He peered out into the early morning hours, but ’twas still too dark to see much of anything. Looking back into the chamber, his brow furrowed. It had all begun with this damn room.

After pouring a chalice of wine, Riorden sat upon a stool and ran his still trembling fingers through his mussed hair, recounting the events of the past hours. Upon his arrival yester eve, he had assumed he would be shown to the Garrison Hall. Instead, a servant had shown him to a richly appointed chamber. Afore the man had left, he had informed Riorden the table held instructions from His Majesty King Henry.

He had begun to walk across the room to retrieve the missive, when he had halted as he had felt a presence in the chamber with him. A shadow of a woman had appeared, dressed in the oddest blue hose he had ever seen. Her strange lavender tunic was cut shockingly low with some sort of odd fasteners running down the front of the garment. Tawny colored hair fell well past her shoulders in soft waves of long, loose curls, which flowed teasingly when she moved. She had been touching the frame of the bedpost, almost reverently, ’til she at last had turned to stare upon him, as if she had finally taken note that he, too, was there. Recognition had flashed across her face with a look of such yearning reflected in her aquamarine eyes, it had torn at his heart, for he had never in his life seen a sign of elation of this magnitude in another.

He remembered having rubbed his eyes to clear his vision of what surely must have been some kind of trickery, and she had been gone. At the time, he had shaken off what he knew was his imagination making a fool of him. He had begun to leave the room to find Aiden and had not gone but a few steps past his door into the passageway when, blinking his eyes in disbelief from what he was seeing, he had had no doubt that his mind was once more playing games with him. There she had stood, yet again, looking just as lovely as she had but moments afore inside his chamber.

This time, she had been walking down the corridor towards him whilst brushing her hand along the stones of the wall. His footsteps had faltered and he had felt unable to move by what he was witnessing. He had stared in wide eyed fascination at the strange lights hanging from the ceiling. ’Twas not any kind of candelabrum he had ever seen afore. Even the torches placed in the sconces on the wall had not been familiar to him.

The woman’s tinkling, merry laughter had rung out, drawing his attention back to her. The sound of her unmistakable joy, which he had been privy to hear, had filled his head with a sense of contentment. He had wondered what she had found so entertaining to make her face radiate such happiness. Her smile had lit up her entire visage with so much delight that it almost seemed unfair that he had not been able to join her in the knowledge of whatever had pleased her so.

She had continued her steps toward him, but afore he could comprehend her actions, she had begun to vanish, passing right through him and causing his breath to catch in his throat. ’Twas as if they had been one, for the briefest of instances, as he had felt an icy shudder rush through his entire body. He had turned, scanning the passageway behind him, but there had been no sight of her. In truth, if he had not seen her for himself, he would have thought she had not been there at all. Yet, with her disappearance, he had felt a strange, unknown sense of regret, almost as if he had lost something most precious to him.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze coming from the window began at the top of Riorden’s head and made its way clear down to his feet whilst he was brought back to the present. ’Twas almost as if the dead were calling to him from the grave with these hallucinations of ghosts. But why, then, would he dream of her? Did she have some message to impart to him? Who was she and, more importantly, why did he feel as if he, in truth, knew who she was? She had appeared so real when she had come to him in his sleep, and even now, he could feel the bitter disappointment when he had lost her in his dream as the mist had all but consumed them.

Riorden stood, grabbed the wooden shutter, and closed it with a soft click as the latch fell into place. He turned and stared at the obnoxious, dark blue, velvet box he had all but forgotten the day afore.
No good will come of whatever it holds
, he thought, as he made his way to the table. Reaching out for the parchment, he broke the wax seal of the king and scanned the brief few words that seemed to blur as he read.
’Tis time to claim your birthright
swam afore his eyes, along with the king’s signature. Opening the box, he swore, for inside was his father’s signet ring. Set in heavy gold, a lion’s head carved from black onyx looked back at him with mocking eyes. The fact that the ring was here could only mean one thing. His father was dead, and the title Riorden never wanted now belonged to him. Damn his father’s soul to hell!

He shut the lid with a snap. ’Twas obvious King Henry had plans for him, and with this subtle message, he would be duty bound to return to Warkworth, despite his desire never to set foot upon that land ever again. But ‘twould not be this day, and, ’til the king came into residence here at Bamburgh, Riorden would continue to put off the inevitable.

A short knock came at the side chamber where a sleepy eyed Patrick entered. “My lord, you dressed without me assisting,” he cried out in disappointment.

“Not quite. Help me don this armor, Patrick. I must needs get out of this place, once the sun has risen. We shall find Aiden, break our fast, and head to the stables. Perhaps, a ride on the strand will clear my head.”

“Does something ail you, Lord Riorden? I can seek out the castle’s healer, if there is a need.”

“Nay. ’Twas just a restless night, Patrick, not that I need to explain myself,” Riorden declared briskly.

“My apologies, my lord. I forgot myself.”

Riorden grumbled beneath his breath, hearing the words
my lord
one too many times to his liking. He did not care for this form of address when it was referring to him, and yet, he had the distinct feeling ’twas something he must needs get used to.

The ritual of donning one’s armor took some time, but ’twas better to be prepared, since he did not have a guard to call his own watching his back. Riorden cursed, knowing this would be the next thing to irritate him if the king was to have his way. He quickly realized Patrick was chattering away, and he had no idea what the lad had been saying.

“…and I have heard tell the place is full of ghosties.”

“What place?”

“Well, Bamburgh, of course. I hope we do not run into any that are restless with incomplete business. Do you think ’tis true, Lord Riorden?” Patrick said with a fearful, squeaky voice.

Riorden looked quickly about his chamber for the apparition that had appeared afore him and yet he saw nothing but the room.

“Come, Patrick, and let us be about this day,” Riorden uttered, not answering his squires question.

They made their way to the tower stairs to the sound of Riorden’s metal armor clanking then descended to the lower floor. He would put away his fanciful thoughts of the woman in his dreams, wanting nothing more than to enjoy what he could of the morn to its fullest. First, to find Aiden, and then some much needed food. Surely, everything would appear normal on a full stomach.

P
resent Day

K
atherine’s footsteps
faltered suddenly on the tower stairs. She felt dizzy, and it wasn’t from the fact that these blasted circular stone steps were oddly laid. No! She was dizzy because she could have sworn she had caught a vague glimpse of her knight ahead of her in the turret!

“Come on, you pansy,” Emily prompted with a laugh. “I told you I’d help you down.”

“You and your silly fear of heights,” Brianna said smugly as she hopped down two stairs at a time.

Katherine threw them both a look, silencing any further laughter. “It’s not silly, and it’s not the height that’s the problem...well, maybe it is a little,” she declared. “Don’t you hear it?”

They all stood there in silence, waiting to hear something that, apparently, only Katherine could hear.

“I don’t hear anything other than tourists,” Juliana replied.

“Shh!” Katherine hissed as she held up her hand and listened intently. She noticed her friends continued to stand in place, patiently waiting for something to happen. “There it is again.”

“What?” Brianna, Juliana, and Emily asked, all at the same time.

Katherine looked at her friends and could only whisper her answer. “Armor.” She noticed the shock on their faces. “Now let’s hurry, and Emily, please help me.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s taking so long and has to put both feet on one stair before you move on to the next. You’re such a pan−”

“Don’t you dare call me a pansy again, Emily… Just get me down these damn stairs!” Katherine shrieked.

It was slow going until Katherine was at last on a lower level floor. Looking for her knight, she observed only the busy hall, overflowing with tourists milling around. Their voices and accents annoyed her as their chatter filled the room.

“Well? Do you still hear it, Katie?” Juliana questioned awkwardly.

Katherine only shook her head. “No. It’s all silent now. Dammit…you guys are going to think I’m nuts.”

“We’d never think that, Katie,” Emily replied.

“Please don’t worry, sis. It’ll be okay, so don’t look so crestfallen,” Juliana reassured her with a pat on her shoulder.

“Ooh! I like that word,
crestfallen
. Can I use it, Jewels, for my dialog I’ve been stuck on?” Brianna asked hopefully.

“Brie!” Juliana and Emily screeched together.

“It’s okay, guys. I do feel rather crestfallen,” Katherine croaked through a forced smile.

“It
is
a great word,” Brianna declared brightly.

“Let’s grab us some lunch and have a picnic on the beach,” Emily suggested. “I know you love this place Katie, but to be honest, although Bamburgh is magnificent, it makes me a little uneasy. For some reason, it gives me the creeps…as though, I can almost feel the suffering that has gone on in its history.”

“Of course it gives you the creeps, silly. The brochure says it’s haunted,” Brianna announced and pulled the pamphlet out of her purse.

“Not now, you two. Can’t you see Katie is having a hard time?” Juliana said and began ushering the younger women through the throng of tourists.

“I’ll catch up in a minute,” Katherine called out.

Leaning her head back, she peered up to once more glance into the turret, straining to keep her sanity, yet at the same time, knowing she hadn’t imagined things. She couldn’t shake the intense feeling that something, or someone, was calling to her. Her nerves were stretched taut, almost to the point where she felt as if they were breaking. To steady herself, Katherine placed her hand on the stones in front of her, the wall of the stairs leading up into the tower. An electrical shock jolted up her arm, causing her to jerk her hand back, rubbing her numb fingertips. Now
that
was something real, and surely, not just her over active imagination. What the hell was going on with her and this place?

She needed fresh air…that’s what she needed. Turning into the Great Hall to catch up with her friends, she found herself riveted to the floor. Even if she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t have. Hardly believing what she was seeing, she became mesmerized when the tourists milling around the chamber slowly vanished before her eyes.

Only one man was left standing at the far end of the room, or rather, one knight. He had been reaching for something on a table when Katherine saw his shoulders flinch. His red cape swirled around his legs when he turned to face her. Their eyes locked and Katherine’s breath left her at the intensity reflected in his face. Shock, intermingled with excitement, rushed through her. Her whole body began to tingle.
Good God, it’s him!
Her mind screamed. He stood there with such a commanding presence about him that she had no recourse but to move in his direction.

Inch by inch, the distance between them lessened as he, too, moved swiftly across the floor. Her arm extended, she reached for him, and yet their meeting was not to be. He quickly vanished, passing right through her. Her body lurched from the contact when the wispy vapor that had been him disintegrated upon their meeting. A soft cry of distress escaped her lips. How could fate be so cruel as to take him from her before they could speak even one word together?

Modern surroundings returned, and Katherine became disorientated when she was rudely bumped by some jerk, who didn’t even mutter an apology. She swiveled around, trying to see if her knight was maybe still lurking in the hall, but there was no trace of him.

She had taken no more than a few short steps, when a voice whispered inside her head.
Katherine…come back to me, my love
. Practically falling into a nearby chair, her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Certainly, she couldn’t mistake the words that had come upon her, for he had called out her name. Jesus Christ! It was just like in her dream. She ran from the room as if a burning fire were licking at her shoes.