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Fifteen
A sense of unease and darkness crept over the people residing within the silent stone fortress of Berwyck Castle. Whether they were serf, knight, or lady, all scurried out of the path of the Devil’s Dragon in fear his growing wrath would fall down upon them, dooming all to a warmer clime in the hereafter. In the past se’nnight, it had become uncommon to pass someone who was not crossing themselves to ward off the evil looming in the air. Even the chapel seemed to hold more souls, of late, who came to pray for salvation from the priest, who welcomed their devotion to a higher being. All feared their liege lord more than ever afore and dared not incense him further. No man, woman, or child wanted to seal their fate in such a dreadful manner.
Blasts of lightening filled the lord’s solar, casting eerie flickering shadows upon the walls of the chamber. ’Twas followed seconds later with the deafening boom of thunder, resonating across the rain drenched countryside. Dristan heard and saw nothing as he stared with unseeing eyes into the dancing orange flames in the hearth. Within the depths of the blaze, where the fire was at its hottest, were vivid shades of violet. ’Twas a grim reminder of a woman he had been trying to for-get for days. It had become a nigh impossible task.
Torrents of rain had been bombarding the land for the past several days, causing rivers to form where they should not exist. Having to stay indoors did not help improve Dristan’s temperament but only seemed to enhance the resentment consuming him. A chalice of now cooled mulled wine remained untouched in his hands. He was unsure how long he had sat thusly on the stool but if the ache in his back was any indication, then ’twas time to rise and come out of his foul and ominous mood.
Placing the mug on the floor, he rose and stretched his arms above him afore dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration. He began to pace the chamber ’til he felt as if he were a caged animal. He went to a nearby table holding various parchments he needed to peruse but felt no inclination to do so, knowing he would not be able to give them his full attention. His mind could only make out hair the color of flame and a pair of eyes the shade of azure seas, which held him mesmerized against his better judgment. A snarl of rage came forth, and he raked his arm across the table, watching the contents of the table top go flying across the room. He slumped down in the chair as scenes from the past several days, a living nightmare, played themselves afore his eyes.
The ride back to the castle had been done in silence but at a pace that was almost frantic. Dristan had cared not, as they rode through the forest, what his men thought whilst branches whipped at his face. The sting had mattered little to him for ’twas a welcome distraction from his mindset of outrage. If he could have put his hands around Ian and Amiria’s necks, he surely would have strangled them both for the part they had played together.
Dristan could only wonder if their relationship went further than just captain of the guard and daughter of the now de-ceased lord. She was, after all, a very beautiful woman. Thoughts of the two of them spending time alone together ran amuck in his head.
They had entered the inner bailey, and stable lads had readily come to take their horses. He had briefly glanced at Amiria, who stood there, trying to assess her situation. ’Twas not ’til he ordered her knights to the dungeon that he at last had a reaction from her. She had snarled her rage and grabbed her sword from the saddle to protect her men. ’Twas a futile effort, at best, as her sword had sailed through the air after making contact with Dristan’s own.
Ian had attempted to come to her defense but struggled against the ropes binding his hands. Dristan had stood be-tween the two and hissed between clenched teeth at Ian that he had erred in his service to his mistress. Amiria had hung her head with guilt ’til she heard Dristan order ten lashes as Ian’s punishment and that he be put into the stockade after-ward. Afore any could halt the madness that had overtaken her, Amiria pulled a dagger from her boot and lunged at Dristan, who easily side stepped out of her way.
She had fallen to the ground with blinding tears in her eyes whilst she watched Ian being led away. With a cry of anguish, she had pulled at her hair stuffed into her tunic and raised the dagger to cut her tresses as her own self-made punishment. Dristan had been upon her afore she knew what had happened and had held her wrist in a painful grasp ’til the blade had fallen from her numb fingers.
He could still remember whispering in her ear the harshest words he had ever spoken to a lady . . . for every single strand of her hair she cut from her head, he would retaliate with a lash of the whip.
Amiria had risen from the ground, cursing him to hell and back as no other had ever ventured. She had then turned her back to her liege, as if she dismissed him from her mind like some mongrel dog, and went to pick up her fallen sword. Dristan had followed close behind her, not wanting to under-estimate the ire of a woman who felt scorned. He remembered reaching for her sword and disarming her afore she acted rashly and regretted her actions this day. ’Twas only as she finally turned to face him with a furious glare that he realized she had been but taking what moment she could to try and compose herself. From the look set upon her face, ’twas clear she had failed miserably.
Dristan rubbed his eyes, hoping the vision he still held in his memory would fade from his mind or, at the very least, change for the better. Yet still the image’s plagued him. He remembered how they had stood there, toe to toe, although she had tilted her head back so she could look him boldly in the eyes. He had ordered her to her chamber. She had stood there staring at him, assessing the worth of such a command. Dristan could still picture the expression in Amiria’s beautiful eyes whilst tears coursed down her face as clearly as if she were standing afore him now. She had left him standing there in the courtyard, feeling as if he himself had erred.
A woman’s tears had always been his downfall. Rarely did he put himself into a position to care enough about a woman and whether the lady shed them or not. Why he felt different-ly about Amiria he knew not, but ’twas most likely because he knew her to be the woman who had haunted his dreams. If he had been able to offer her some form of compassion, he would have wiped those tears away with a gentle caress and kissed her lips ’til she sighed in pleasure. ’Twas not a reality he could foresee. Their fates seemed to now be sealed on a course he could not change, for she would bear him nothing but hatred for some time to come.
Since Amiria had become his ward and he was responsible for her welfare and future, mayhap ’twas for the best she hated him. Her ploy still bothered his peace of mind, since she had pledged her fealty to him. However, he continued to ponder what steps he would need to take as the lord of the keep. ’Twas no small wonder he lacked sleep and could no longer think rationally.
Dristan came out of his reminiscing at the persistent rattling from the closed shutter window. It gave evidence to the fierceness of the winds of the late summer storm that continuously blew across the castle, making the rooms uncommonly cold. The flickering candlelight proved there was indeed a breeze in his solar and he would need to mayhap add a tapes-try to the window seat to assist with keeping out the chill.
Rising from his chair, he returned to the hearth and stooping down picked up his wine and tasted of it. Even though the wine had become chilled, ’twas still refreshing and he took an-other swallow, enjoying the heady flavors. His moment of peace did not last, however, as a gust of wind slammed the shutter open against the walls. Parchments swirled around the room as he rushed about collecting them afore they inadvertently ended up in the hearth. Placing a heavy tome on the stack so he did not have to gather them again, he went to the window where the rain soaked the floor and the cushion on the window seat.
His hand briefly made contact with the shutter only to have it wrenched from his grasp yet again by the gale force winds. After another attempt, he finally had the wood firmly in his grip and was about to shove the portal closed when something caught his attention whilst he peered out into the night. ’Twas only the ever so slight movement in the outer bailey, catching his eye, that gave him pause whilst he was getting soaked down to his skin. He squinted to see through the sheets of rain and could barely make out Ian even now in the stocks with the flickering torches somehow remaining lit. But Ian was not what caused him to pause in bewilderment. Nay! ’Twas the sight of another figure beneath a cape of sorts, trying to hold her cloak and one more around her captain for protection against the tempest, that caused his wrath of fury to explode.
Apparently, the woman had no common sense to listen when told to stay in her chambers. Once again she had defied him and most deliberately. Indignation against the stubborn girl renewed within him. Dristan closed the shutters with a loud bang, slapped the latch in place, and left the room with an enraged, furious stride.
He paid no attention to those souls who scurried out of his path as he made his way down the winding turret and through the Great Hall. He only had one purpose on his mind and for once that temperamental red haired vixen would obey the commands coming from her lord and master. Since she gave no heed to the instructions he had issued her, ’twas apparent she felt herself above such menial objectives and was in need of a well learned lesson. Two could play this game of hers and if she wished to play with fire and feel the wrath of the Devil’s Dragon, so be it. Only time would tell if she would be able to survive the flames!
Amiria sat in a puddle at Ian’s feet, trying not to shiver from the cold. ’Twas this blasted rain, making it a near to impossible feat for there was not a part of her body that was not drenched. Yet here she sat and so here she would remain to protect her captain against the elements at any cost. ’Twas her doing that found him in his current predicament since she had not listened to his counsel. In her heart she felt, at the very least, she would share in his agony against the storm.
She tried to stifle the persistent cough she had been trying to hide from Ian, but such a task had become more and more difficult as the hours passed. In truth she had no knowledge of how long she had been out here with him. At some point, she remembered how Garrett had shown up, offering what assistance he could. He had continuously played sweet and pleasing melodies on his bagpipes, reminding them of days gone by. Yet as the rains began to worsen, Amiria told him to put his pipes away and find a warm fire. He could do no more for her than what she asked.
Is it just my imagination or does this infernal downpour come at me from all sides? she thought. No matter which way she turned her body or moved her cloak, the wetness penetrated her attempted defense of trying to remain dry and seemed to mock her. Even the muddied water splashed her face from the ground beneath her. The puddle she sat in was now beginning to widen to the size of a veritable river and Amiria contemplated how long she would be able to remain vigilant in her resolve to stay with Ian. She would do him no good if she was carried away with the floods growing around her.
She chanced a glance at Ian and realized he had been watching her beneath his reddish hair, hanging limply from his head in long wet strands. ’Twas as if he read her thoughts and he knew her resolve to stay with him was breaking and weakening. Raising her head, she dared him to speak his thoughts aloud and was rewarded with the smallest of smiles.
“Go inside, Amiria,” he said thoughtfully. “Ye’ve doon enough lass.”
She rose slightly and adjusted what she could of the mantel she had draped around him and the stocks that had kept him standing for days. “Ach Ian, dinnae try tae be such a braw laddie,” she chided in Gaelic, “’tis boot a bit o’ a drizzle annoyin’ us fer a spell.”
“English, Amiria, as I find it more pleasing to my ears to hear it from your lips,” as he, too, switched back to a language to which they had become accustomed.
“As you wish, Ian.”
“I am glad to see you still can muster up a bit of humor though, my lady . . . a bit of a drizzle indeed,” he laughed gruffly for the first time in days, as she made a grab for her cloak whipped from her head by the wind. He continued to study her so she gave him the tiniest hint of a smile to put him at east. She failed to hide how she trembled from the cold. “Truly, Amiria . . . enough is enough. Lord Dristan will release me soon, and I’ll not have you watch when he does so. I’m sure my legs will give way and I’ll end up in the mud on my sorry arse. ’Tis not fitting you should witness a knight so.”
“I stay ’til you are released, Ian,” she retaliated somberly. “I have vowed it upon my soul so do not ask me again to leave as your words will fall upon deaf ears. I already have much to repent of in the chapel come your release.”
Ian clamped his lips shut, apparently not having the strength to argue with her further, and Amiria once more settled herself at his feet. How long they were there thusly she could not say as time had no meaning when they were just trying to bear the brunt of the storm.
She must have dozed off but quickly awoke with an anguishing scream as she was lifted from her vigil by Ian’s side. Her arm was pulled roughly by none other than Lord Dristan as he began pulling her through the bailey. Ian shouted her name but to no avail as the sound escaped on the wind, and she quickly lost sight of him. She called out for her captain, feeling helpless that he should remain out in the elements be-cause of her stubbornness.
Amiria clawed at Dristan’s arm and hand as he dragged her through the mud towards the keep. Yet still he continued onward, tugging her farther and farther away from Ian’s side. She cursed Dristan’s soul to hell and heard a faint mutter from him, saying he was already there thanks to her schemes. They had reached the inner bailey when she used her last remaining strength to kick and punch any part of Dristan she could come in contact with. His patience came to an end when she heard him grunt in pain as her fist landed squarely in his left eye. She felt herself being lifted up in his arms with not even a pause in his stride as he carried her as if she weighed nothing.
“Continue as you have been behaving, and your men and Ian will stay where they are ’til you come to your senses. I do not care if they are there through winter. ’Tis your choice!” he voiced sharply.
Amiria finally calmed at his words, not wishing her men a longer sentence due to her actions. She felt Dristan shift her slightly, and her head naturally came to rest comfortably on his shoulder. She would have sighed if she could have, but her body decided it had suffered enough abuse and began to shiver uncontrollably. ’Twas followed by a deep agonizing cough she could not control.
They entered the keep and several paused at the sight of their lord carrying Amiria close to his body. She turned her head into his shoulder in embarrassment with thoughts that some might think Dristan was off to have a bit of pleasure between the sheets. Apparently, any misinterpretations of his actions did not bother him in the least as he lengthened his stride, calling for Kenna and Lady Lynet to follow him to Amiria’s chamber.
He hurriedly took the steps two at a time and called for a serf to open Lady Amiria’s door. Several other women followed them into the chamber, stoked the fire, and pulled down the coverings on the bed to ready the room for its mistress.
Amiria felt the warmth of the hearth as Dristan began to peel the soaking wet garments from her freezing body. ’Twas a task greatly hindered by Amiria’s own feeble attempts when her weak hands slapped him, thinking he would not take her thusly. She cried out in frustration when the only remaining cloth covering her was a flimsy chemise, molding itself to her young lush body. It revealed more than any other man had ever seen afore.
Looking down, she was appalled to notice the material was indeed almost transparent and she used her arms and hands to cover herself as best she could. She watched, fascinated and surprised, when Dristan noticed her embarrassment and at last turned his back whilst one of the serfs came and a sleeping gown warm to her chilled skin was thrown over her head.
The fabric barely ceased its motion at her feet afore she felt a blanket wrapped around her and she was once more de-posited into Dristan’s arms. Amiria began to struggle ’til she heard Dristan murmur to cease. ’Twas not a command nor an order, but just a quietly whispered word that put her immediately at ease. All fight left her and she thought it surely must have been her imagination when she felt her lord caress her hair and seemed to rock her gently in his arm as her coughing began again. His soothing words spoken in Norman French reached into her soul against her will and wrapped itself around her torn and confused heart. With a single tear gently falling from her eye, Amiria allowed sleep to finally claim her.
She would have been astounded if she had been aware when Dristan wiped away that solitary tear as several of his own fell in concern for her welfare from his deep grey eyes.
