Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 (32 page)

“The heart of the sun does not refer to the sun in the sky,” Michel concluded.

“No.”

Michel released a deep sigh of both regret and resigned acceptance.  “It’s ironic, is it not?  That just when I have within my grasp the power to resolve the curse besetting me and my descendants, I will be denied the opportunity to do so.”

“Young Colin was right, my young monarch.  Your life was far more valuable to your people than that of an ordinary soldier.  Sometimes arrogance reveals itself in surprising forms.”

Michel nodded, then challenged, “But if it were not for my arrogance, I would not have learned the truth behind the origin of the curse.”

“True.  As you pointed out, the circumstances are filled with irony.”

Resigned to his fate, Michel asked, “So what happens now?”

“I was wondering the same thing myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not intend to negotiate with me for your life?  You are aware I have the power to defer your departure from this world because I granted a similar deferral to your sister.”

“What is the price of such a deferral?”

“Your sister paid no price for the boon I granted her,”
his companion informed him.

Michel met his direct gaze and believed him, and then comprehension dawned.  “You paid the price for her.”

“Very astute of you, my young king.  Yes, there is no escape from the natural order of things.  There is a price to be paid for such a deferral.  In your sister’s case I elected to bear the burden myself, rather to trouble your sister’s bold spirit with such an unpleasant consequence.”

“Thank you.  I will gladly bear the burden of my sister’s debt to you my friend, but I will not seek to add my own to it.  No, if it is the will of the Almighty I depart this life, so be it. I am but his humble servant for him to order as he sees fit.”

“As you wish.”

“Your Highness, Your Highness…”

Voices reached Michel from a great distance.  He wasn’t certain where he was and assumed the voices were calling to someone else.  He was not a king here…wherever here turned out to be.  He tried to open his eyes and look around him, but the weight was more than his current weakened strength was up to.

“Where are you?” He whispered to his companion, and then realized his friend had left him. Perhaps that was the nature of his work, to escort the dead to their new life and then return to earth to continue with his labors.

“I am here, my friend.”

The familiar voice assured him, but that wasn’t right, Michel thought dazedly because it wasn’t death’s seductive voice he thought he heard above him, but another one deeply familiar to the life he’d once led.  He struggled for a moment to recall the name of the man it belonged to.

“Amele?”

“Yes, my king, lie still and let us tend to you. You have lost a great deal of blood and we must get you back to the surface before the entire mountain falls down around us.”

Michel leaned back against the cushion someone eased beneath his aching head.  His right side felt like it was on fire.  “Colin?”

“I am here, my king,” Colin’s fervent voice reached him and at the sound, Michel released a deep sigh of relief and leaning back, surrendered to his resurrected pain. It would appear that he too had been resurrected. 

He wondered about the penalty that would be exacted from him for his awakening into his previous life and suspected it would be an evil one.  Hadn’t death confirmed as much when he told Michel he had taken upon himself the punishment of Melissa’s debt so as not to burden her with it?

Michel wondered if his unusual friend thought to accept the same burden on his behalf, but if that was the case, Michel was unwilling to leave matters as they stood.  A man did not burden his friends with his own rightful debts.  How he was going to balance the scales between death and himself, he had no notion, but he was determined to do so.  He fell asleep as his mind sought a way to repay his obligation.

The next time Michel woke it was to the sound of wild shouts and cheering.  Dazed and confused he tried to free himself from the shadows dragging him back under the darkness stalking him.  Then his attention was captured by a soft voice calling his name. 

“Elena,” his lips framed his wife’s name, then curved in a contented smile at the sensation of her soft touch stroking his matted hair away from his filthy, dust-covered face.  Struggling with greater determination against the shadows clouding his thoughts, he finally managed to find his way free and pry his eyes open to feast upon the sight of his wife’s lovely face.

“Michel.” Tears shimmered in her dusky eyes and she pressed a clenched fist against her lips to force back the relieved sob that he could see was trying to break through the faltering control she held over her emotions.

“Elena, love, I have so much to tell you,” he began excitedly, remembering despite his confusion he had important news to relay to her.  In anticipation of doing so, he tried to rise from the pallet he rested on.

“No, no, you mustn’t try to get up.  Lay back and rest,” she accompanied her demand with a gentle push against his shoulders.

He was in the mood to be accommodating because he allowed himself to be settled back against the pallet, reaching for the hand that continued stroking his flesh as if its owner feared he might disappear.  Capturing her hand in his uninjured one he raised it to his lips and kissed his wife’s fingertips.  “I love you, Elena.”

He saw the stunned joy enter her eyes at his declaration and cursed himself for his own stubbornness, reminded of what it almost cost him…cost them all.  “I have so much to tell you,” he added, his voice fading as his pain demanded his attention.

She bent close to him and asked, “What is it?  What could you possibly have to tell me that was more important than what you just confessed to me?”

His brows drew together as he struggled to remember his crazy dreams when he was buried under ground.  He grew increasingly agitated when they eluded him.  Then another remembered promise intruded upon his focus, distracting him away from the recollection he sought.  “I should probably have told you this before now.”

“Told me what?”  Elena asked concerned.

“I made a promise to my sister, Melissa.”

“Your twin sister?” His wife confirmed.

“Yes.”

“What is this promise?”

Michel’s thoughts continued to drift from the object of their discussion in search of the missing hours he spent underground.  “What is this promise?”  Elena repeated and he turned his attention back to his wife’s anxious eyes.

“If we have a daughter…” He closed his eyes against the deepening shadows tugging at his will.

“Yes, if we have a daughter…” Elena prodded.

Michel forced his eyes back open.  “If we have a daughter, I promised my sister we would name her Melissa.”

He watched the relief wash over his wife’s expression at his confession.  “I assumed, my love, you would want to name our daughter, Melissa.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“That is good, because I made another promise to my sister,” he broached the other half of his promise to his twin with a little more caution.

“What is this other promise to your sister?”

“If we have a son…”

“Yes, if we have a son….”  Michel could see the laughter lurking behind his wife’s attentive gaze.

“I also promised we would name him Melissa.”

Elena’s eyes widened at his guilty admission and her lips curved in an amused grin.  Michel could see by the speculative glance she gave him that she suspected he was teasing her.  When he held her glance while he waited for her to realize he was serious, she gasped and confirmed, eyeing him incredulously, “You are serious?”

Michel nodded.

Finally accepting he was completely serious; Elena leaned back on her heels and giggled. She raised her fingers to her lips to smother her burgeoning laughter while her shoulders shook with the force of her amusement.  Finally, unable to retain her precious control, she laughed uproariously until tears slid from her shining eyes and down her cheeks. Finally she regained her control and bent and brushed her lips across her husband’s.  “Then, my love, I hope you do not mind if I pray to our heavenly father that this child within me now is born a daughter, else our son shall be burdened with a woman’s name in addition to an ancient curse besetting his father’s house.”

“No,” Michel whispered through his pain at the reminder of the curse.  “That was what I wanted to tell you.”  He struggled into a seated position to gain better clarity over his thoughts so he could convey his important news to his wife.  Immediately, stronger hands than Elena’s gentle ones restrained his attempts to rise.  Both defeated and irritated by his own weakness, Michel allowed himself to be settled back against the pallet beneath his wife’s watchful gaze. 

Even the small exertion on his part gave rise to enough pain in his injured side to distract him away from his urgent need to confide his discovery to his wife. He grimaced against the sharp discomfort even as part of him was grateful for it.  His throbbing limbs kept him beyond the reach of the shadows that lingered on the edge of his consciousness waiting for him to drop his defenses long enough to drag him back down to the abyss of nothingness.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Elena asked softly, smoothing his hair away from his face in a soothing caress.

Michel heard the whisper of his wife’s voice from a great distance.  He stared back up at her beautiful countenance and felt his lips curve in a smile of contentment that he didn’t die in that dark pit, buried beneath a ton of rock and granite.  Now he would have the chance to tell her his news, to take away the anxiety about their unborn child’s future she attempted to hide from him beneath a placid smile.  It was to have been his fate to die beneath the mountain and become one more victim of its ire at man’s intrusion on its domain and his theft of its precious treasure.

Yet, for some reason he had been spared.  Why?  He felt the answer dancing along the edge of his confused thoughts.  He attempted to raise his injured arm to reach for it, fighting against the will of the one who gently restrained his reach.  It was vital he clasp the misty light circling above his head, certain the answers he sought resided within, but no matter how mightily he strained, the shimmering light receded further and further from his reach.  They were winning…the shadows, strengthened by his distraction with the light.  Gleefully, it seemed to Michel, their clinging tentacles closed around him and dragged him back to where death and darkness ruled.

Just before he surrendered to an enemy beyond his waning strength, he thought he remembered the news he was so anxious to relay to his wife.  There was a price to be paid for cheating death the way he had and he was only just beginning to pay it.

Michel woke to the muffled echo of his wife’s agonized screams. He threw off the quilt and was halfway out of his bed and reaching for his sword before Amele turned from his stance at the window and hurried to his side. 

“No, my king.  Your wife is in no danger,” he explained, reaching for the sword, and then pulling back at the expression on Michel’s face.  “Queen Elena is in labor.”

Michel sank back down on the bed, his sword slipping from his grasp.  “Labor?  It’s too soon.  How long have I been asleep?”

Amele bent to retrieve the sword and place it a safe distance from Michel’s grasp.  “Not long enough for the amount of blood you lost, my king.  The queen began her laboring early this morning.  She is settled in the next chamber.” When Michel jumped up off the bed to hurry to his wife’s side, Amele pushed him back down.  “The midwives are attending your wife.  I am certain you are aware, my king, your presence in the room will only remind your wife of your grave injury and cause her to worry about you rather than preserving all of her focus for bringing your babe into the world.”

Michel allowed himself to be persuaded by Amele’s logic.  “You said she started her laboring early this morning. Is something wrong?  Why is it taking so long?”

Amele lifted his shoulder in a resigned shrug. “I am certain nothing is wrong with your wife’s laboring. We would know.  Babes enter the world on their own schedule, my king.  There is nothing a man can do to hurry things along.”

Michel nodded, and then jumped up off the bed.  Ignoring his pain at his sudden movement, he gave in to his restlessness.  He strode across the room towards the door.  When he heard Elena scream again, he closed his eyes against the torment, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her anguish.  He pulled open the heavy wooden door with enough force to have it banging against the wall.  To the astonishment of the men guarding his door he strode passed them down the long hall and exited through the tunnel leading to the stairs to the keep’s stone wall.

He drew a deep breath as he exited into the early evening air and raising his eyes to the full moon overhead, he prayed fervently for his wife and babe.  At the sight of the glowing moon something tugged at his memory.  Something to do with the daughter of the moon.  He struggled with the tantalizing hint of a memory for long moments before abandoning the effort in frustration.  He turned long minutes later at the sound of the door opening behind him. Amele stood there, a wide grin on his face.  In each of his bent arms he cradled a tiny bundle.

Michel lifted astonished eyes to Amele’s.  “Elena?”

“Your wife is fine and resting comfortably.  The midwife gave her a sleeping draught, so the honor falls to me to introduce you to your son…and daughter.”

Michel accepted the little burdens into each of his arms and awkwardly lifted them to brush his lips against each tiny forehead. Amele nodded in satisfaction and then retreated from the wall, leaving Michel alone so he could become acquainted with his new his son and daughter.

As if aware of the significance of the moment, his babes opened their eyes, the same identical blue as his and Melissa’s.  Smiling down into the curious faces of his son and daughter, the veil concealing his memories of the hours he spent underground fluttered away, revealing the answer to the mystery of the curse.

The daughter of the moon and the heart of the son.  He looked back up at the moon and smiled.  Around his neck, he felt the Salusian stone heat against his flesh. Elena was a daughter of the moon.  That was why the stone reacted to her possession of it.  His wife had captured the heart of the son.  His heart.  The curse was lifted.  His family was safe.

“My felicitations, my young king.”

Michel swung around at the sound of the familiar voice.  He grinned in death’s direction.  “I am glad you are here. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Imperious brows arched over black eyes. 
“I admit you continue to surprise me my young friend.  My presence is rarely greeted with such enthusiasm.”

Amusement danced in Michel’s eyes in response to his friend’s self-mockery.  “I would introduce you to my son and daughter, but I have a bit of a dilemma in regards to their names.”

“Is it not a human tradition to name their offspring after a worthy ancestor?”

“Yes, generally, but that is only when one has not made a rash promise to his twin sister in regards to his babe’s names.”

Death’s laughter sounded around them. 
“I should have known your twin had a part to play yet in this drama.”

“Yes, well,” Michel responded grinning, “I promised Melissa I would name my firstborn after her, whether the babe be a son or a daughter.”

“And you have been blest with one of each.”

“Yes, but I can hardly name both my son and daughter Melissa. Think of the confusion that would give rise to. So to keep peace with my wife, I have decided to name our son Amele Nathaniel Barnabas and to keep my promise to my sister, our daughter will be Melissa.  I would like to honor my grandmother as well, but I can hardly name her Melissa Alyssa.”

“You could name her Melissa Rhiann after your younger sister.”

“Yes, I considered that, but there is someone else I would prefer to honor.  So my friend if you would tell me your given name, I would like to name my daughter after you.  If you would prefer my son bear your name rather than my daughter, I can honor my grandfather if I am given a second son, but I thought you would not mind having your name linked to my twin’s.”

“My name?”
His companion echoed in soft astonishment.

“Yes.  I am assuming Death is not your given name.  I have noticed that a man’s reputation sometimes becomes so entwined with his occupation; his name becomes synonymous with his work.  I wondered if that was not the case with you.”

“You wish to name your daughter after death?”

Michel felt the force of his friend’s piercing gaze.  “I wish to name my daughter after my friend, and a close friend of my family.  Not in repayment of my debt to you, because that it is a separate matter and one I wish to raise with you at another, more appropriate occasion.”

“I thought you had forgotten our discussion.”

“I did, at least the details of it.  I knew there was something important that kept tugging at my memory, but I couldn’t bring it to light.  Then Amele placed my daughter in my arms and I knew in that instant the curse was lifted, because even if my heart had not already been captured by my wife, it would have leapt from my chest and dropped to my daughter’s feet when our eyes met for the first time.”

“Yes, the terms of the curse have been fulfilled.  Your family is safe from its long reach.”

“And your name, my friend. With your permission, of course.”

Death’s lips formed into a slow grin. 
“My name?  Yes, I believe I will enjoy having a daughter of the moon bear my name.  You may name her….”