Keeper of the Stone (11 page)

His squire returned with his cloak and Nathan draped it around her, tucking it closely under her chin.  His wife was regarding him as if he was feeble minded, even as she tried to lift the extra feet of cloth off the muddy ground while he continued to pull the fabric tighter across her slender form. 

He caught the puzzled look she exchanged with the stranger, saw the fleeting smile flash across the other man’s face before the Salusian carefully schooled his features back into an expressionless mien.  Irritated at having been caught being considerate of his wife, Nathan returned to the source of his frustration.  “Well wife?”

“Well what?  And my name is Rhiann, not wife.” 

So much for her little reverent gesture of wifely submission upon her arrival.  That was fine with him.  He liked her spirit – especially in bed, when she…

“Nathan?”

She was gazing up at him with a look of such confusion Nathan was tempted to sweep her into his arms and carry her back to his bed and to hell with any messengers and their messages.  He fought the urge as he responded to her question. “What?”

“What?” Rhiann mimicked.  “Husband, you’re not making any sense.”

He couldn’t fault her for speaking the truth, but his mood darkened at the thought that after a single night spent in her arms his bride managed to transform him from a ruthless, feared warrior into a babbling idiot.  His voice was therefore sharper than he intended when he responded to her question. “I asked you where your winter cloak was, wife.  And I shall call you whatever I like.”

“Are you angry with me?”

Her eyes instantly filled with tears at his harsh rebuke and she quickly turned her attention to the ground at his feet so he was forced to strain to hear her whispered question.  This being married was a lot more complicated than he ever imagined.  He found himself feeling a sympathy he never experienced before for his father and older brother.

How was a man supposed to concentrate on important matters when he was constantly being distracted by thoughts of his wife?  Now he was having to soothe her injured feelings at a perfectly rational statement on his part.

“No wife, I am not angry with you.  We will discuss this later.  Do you wish to hear this message from your grandmother?” He assumed reminding her of the purpose of his summons would erase the tears from her eyes.  Instead she merely shrugged, her attention still directed to the ground at his feet.

He was surprised and confused by her reaction.  He didn’t remember ever feeling confused before meeting his wife.  He pulled her in front of him and turned his back on the messenger, his broad shoulders effectively shielding her from the stranger’s view.  “Are you saying you do not wish to hear this message?” 

When she merely shrugged at him again, he clamped down on his rising frustration, lifted her chin so she would be forced to look at him and instructed her mildly.  “Stop shrugging at me and answer my question.” Tears filled her eyes and streamed silently down her cheeks. “For God’s sake, Rhiann…”

“Lady Rhiann.” The stranger’s gentle voice emerged in marked contrast to the clipped tones he used with Nathan.  When Nathan would have rebuked him for intruding, he looked down and saw Rhiann staring at the stranger, listening to him.  Nathan swallowed his annoyance at his inference.

“Lady Rhiann.” The stranger’s soft voice was no more than a whisper and his wife took a small step towards him.  “Your grandmother charged me most sincerely with delivering her message to her beloved granddaughter.  Would you have me return to my queen in shame for having failed of her request of me?”

Nathan watched as his wife silently shook her head and couldn’t help but admire the stranger’s tactics.  His gentle little wife wasn’t about to let this proud man return in shame to face his queen.

“What is this message?” 

Nathan was pleased the man made no attempt to deliver his message privately, as Nathan had no intention of allowing such a request no matter how many tears his wife shed.  It didn’t take long for him to realize his presence was irrelevant as he couldn’t understand a word of the message the man was now intently delivering to his wife. 

Rhiann didn’t seem to have any trouble deciphering the rapid flow of the lyrical Salusian tongue. She nodded occasionally and responded softly in the same tongue when the stranger asked a question requiring a response.  When the message was delivered the man bowed and excused himself and returned moments later carrying a jeweled box.

His wife went stiff at the sight and shook her head.  Nathan reached out to place his hands on his wife’s shoulder’s, not wanting to intrude but wanting to reassure her he was there. The stranger offered her the box in his outstretched hands but Nathan noticed Rhiann made no move to accept it.

The stranger knelt in the mud and laid the box reverently at her booted feet, his head bowed.  Nathan looked up to discover the stranger’s companions were watching the proceeds intently and so silently he’d forgotten they were there.  The black stallion was no longer among them and Nathan looked up to see him grazing on the hillside.  His own men too he noted were no longer training but had drawn subtly closer and no longer made any pretense of sharpening their battle skills. Apparently his new affliction was contagious. Everyone waited with bated breath for Rhiann’s reaction.

She stood staring down at the jeweled box.  From his vantage point over her head Nathan could see the box was of incalculable value, the businessman in him noting the plump jewels would have kept him and his men fed for several long campaigns.  Most women, and men for that matter, of his acquaintance would have been too enamored by the wrapping to care what was inside the box.

Nathan couldn’t help but be impressed by his wife’s indifference to the fortune lying in the mud at her feet.  At the same time her attitude only served to underscore the vast gap between their family backgrounds.

The stranger remained motionless on his knees at his young wife’s feet.  Rhiann remained still as the statues in the square staring down at the box.  Nathan suddenly felt an urgent need to protect her from what was inside. 

“Rhiann?”  The eyes she lifted to his were filled with such stark desolation he felt their emptiness to the depths of his soul.  “What is it?”  His hands on her shoulders tightened their grip and turned her to face him.  Her voice was barely a whisper when she replied.

“I have to let them go.  She says I have to let her go.  I don’t want to.  I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re not alone, wife. I’m your family now.”  Her glance probed his, testing his assurance, trying to decide if she could count on it or not.

“I don’t want them to leave me, Nathan.  It’s too soon. It’s cold here now with all this blood and death.  Do you think it’s warm in heaven?”  Nathan’s eyes locked briefly with the concerned glance of the man still kneeling in the mud at his wife’s feet.  He wanted to know what the hell was in that box and why his wife was resisting it so desperately.

“Do you?”

His wife’s soft insistence refocused his attention.  “Do I what?”

“Do you think it’s warm in heaven?”

How the hell was he supposed to know if it was warm in heaven or not?  “Yes, I’m sure your family is warm in heaven.”

She nodded distractedly, not really believing his assurance.  “I have to let them go in my heart, otherwise they’ll linger here.”

Nathan’s head was beginning to spin, but he sensed the core of Rhiann’s dilemma and even appreciated the stranger’s help with it.  Until his wife accepted the deaths of her family and her old way of life she could never embrace the new life they could build together.  “Yes wife, you have to let them go in your heart.”

She nodded.  “She said I have to cry for them.  How did she know I hadn’t?”

Nathan felt his own tears stinging behind his eyes at his wife’s bewilderment.  The tears she denied were streaming silently down her cheeks and dropping like blood in warm drops onto his hands resting on her shoulders.  “I don’t know how she knew.” He admitted with an effort.

The insistent sounds of the neighing stallion reached them from a distance and Rhiann turned her attention to where the black stood proudly on the hill, his head turned towards her as if it was possible for the two of them to communicate.

Nathan felt his wife’s slender form slip from his grasp as she slid to the surface and hesitantly reached for the box.  Nathan watched her stilted movements from his vantage point over her bent head.  She undid the clasp of the box and found inside a plain and well-worn leather pouch.  Rhiann’s shoulders started shaking as she reached for it.  Nathan was surprised by the tingling sound, like tiny bells, emanating from the pouch. 

More disturbing was the sight of the jeweled dagger beneath the pouch.  He watched Rhiann’s trembling grip close around it and every nerve within him instantly came to full alert.  He had no wish to interfere with her private grief over the loss of her family, but nor would he allow her to take her own life in response to the devastation he read in her eyes.  His own again met the stranger’s over his wife’s bent head and he relaxed a little at the quick denial he read in his dark eyes.  The stranger’s concern for his wife was obvious to Nathan but still he didn’t trust him.

The black neighed again and Rhiann’s glance once more lifted in his direction.  It was as if he was waiting impatiently for her to join him.  A ridiculous fantasy he knew, as a woman of Rhiann’s slight form could never hope to seat the black.  It would take all of his strength for Nathan to gain his back.  The stallion was still wild – like his wife, Nathan thought, finding a glimmer of humor in this bizarre situation he suddenly found himself in the middle of.

Nathan glanced back down at his wife to find she now gripped the dagger firmly in her hand and was cutting her hair with it.  When he instinctively reached down to take it from her hand, she passed it to the stranger, who accepted it reverently in both of his own.  Rhiann took great care curling the long strands of a length of her hair into the jeweled box, then closed it and handed it back to the Salusian.  Nathan did a quick inspection of his wife’s head, relieved to see he couldn’t tell where she’d taken the length from.  He was all for her mourning her family and getting on with her life, but he had no intention of waiting several years for the glorious gold curls to grow back if she took it into her head to cut them off.

The black neighed again and this time rose up on his hind legs, a magnificent sight against the unusually bright sun of a typical dreary Saxon winter day. As if the action was some mysterious signal meant only for her, Rhiann rose to her feet, seemingly unaware of Nathan’s hand under her arms to assist her. 

Her eyes were fixed on the stallion and she started walking towards it, her husband’s heavy cloak falling unheeded to the ground.  When Nathan reached out to stop her, the stranger’s hands and quick shake of his head momentarily stopped him.  The black remained where he was, some distance away at the top of the hill.  As long as Rhiann didn’t get too close, Nathan wouldn’t interfere.  The black could kill her with one outraged kick of his magnificent legs. 

Rhiann appeared almost in a trance as she walked towards the animal, the tinkling from the leather pouch audible in the heavy silence of the onlookers.  When Nathan had just about made up his mind to go after her, she stopped and stared up at the sky.  Nathan drew a relieved breath.  Maybe this was over now.  Rhiann was bidding a final farewell to her family after which he would, like any considerate husband, take her back to the warmth of the castle, a hot meal and tuck her into his bed.

He turned to signal to his squire to bring his mount when the sharp intake of collective breaths behind him had his head swinging back around to where his wife was now running towards the hill, where the black used to be, but was no longer. He was racing down the hill on a collision course with Rhiann.  Nathan threw an accusing glance at the stranger, wishing he had time to strangle him before he raced off to save his foolhardy wife’s life.

“Rhiann, no!” His voice was drowned out by the sound of thundering hooves advancing on his wife.  He would kill the bastard, Nathan vowed silently.  After he killed his bride for the terror that threatened to overwhelm him.  He would never reach her in time.  She would be trampled beneath the horse’s onslaught. 

“Nooooo….!” The anguished denial was dug from the very depths of his soul.  He couldn’t lose her now.  He needed her. It wasn’t fair, damn it! He shouted silently to the creator of the universe.  ‘Why did you give her to me only to take her away after a single night?’ 

He cursed his God even as he accepted the inevitable.  His legs kept pumping, straining to reach his young wife, to shield her slender form, gladly accepting death in her place so as not to have to face the empty bed awaiting him back at the keep.  He closed his eyes as the two met in the grassy plains, just yards away from where Nathan still strained to reach Rhiann in time. 

He was too late.  His knees almost gave way at the agony of his loss, but he wouldn’t stop while there was still a chance.  He opened his eyes, forcing himself to watch the final crushing blow to his newly resurrected hopes and dreams.  Without Rhiann the estates he fought so hard to secure would be cold comfort after the warmth of his marriage bed. 

He was still too far to intervene when the final collision came, but rather than see his wife go down beneath the steed’s trampling hooves, at the last second she reached out to grab the black’s mane and pull herself onto his back in a single graceful movement, the black never breaking stride as it raced off back up the hill. 

Nathan shouted his outrage at the stallion’s retreating back.  The steed galloped away so swiftly he appeared to outpace the wind and only the echo of Nathan’s command drifted back to settle around him in the hushed silence surrounding him.  His wife never looked back.  She was too busy hugging the black around his proud neck as he raced off up the next hill and out of sight of those still standing glued to the earth, their astonishment over the amazing feat they just witnessed momentarily robbing them of their ability to both move and speak.  Nathan was the first to recover his senses.  He retrieved his own mount held at his squire’s side, the young man’s expression bordering on awe at the spectacle of Rhiann’s horsemanship.