The Cast Of A Stone

by Avril Borthiry

  “Nay, lad,” he said, patting Stephen on the shoulder. “I never doubted you. Not for a moment.”

  Stephen nodded. “Good. That said, I shall be leaving for Cumberland at dawn.”

  Keir chuckled. “I didn't doubt that either. I shall be at your side, of course.”

  Stephen closed his eyes for a moment. “It won't be easy for her, carrying this child. I cannot begin to understand how she must feel.”

  “Emma is fortunate.”

  “Fortunate? Surely you jest.”

  Keir shrugged. “She's surrounded by people who love her, who are willing to stand by her. There are those who would not be treated thus, who instead would be blamed, cast aside and shunned. Such women must suffer terribly.”

  Stephen looked thoughtful for a moment. “I'm sure they must.”

  “But I understand not all the news is bleak.” Keir tilted his head. “I overheard some talk in the hall. It seems you're to be an uncle, and you're to acquire a new brother-in-law.”

  Stephen gave a bitter laugh. “Aye. God does work in mysterious ways.”

  “Nay, there's no mystery.” Keir drew his sword, placed one finger beneath the blade just below the hilt, and raised it to eye level. The weapon did not waver upon its narrow perch. “'Tis a simple question of balance, young knight. Balance in all things.”

  The horses were saddled and ready to go just before dawn. A soft, cold drizzle fell from the sky, typical rain of the North Country, gentle in its assault yet miserable in its effect.

  Christophe and Bee had risen early and splashed across the bailey to see the two men off. Bee pulled her cloak around her and shivered. “'Twill be slow travelling in this. Perhaps you should wait a while to see if it clears.”

  Stephen shook his head and swung himself into the saddle. “Nay, I think not. I'm eager to leave. We'll be fine.”

  “You'll rust before you get to York.” Christophe grinned, but the rain could not disguise the softness in his eyes. “Take care, little brother. Tell Emma...tell her she'll always be welcome at Thurston. Let us know how she fares.” He turned to Keir, who already sat astride his horse. “I'm no fool, Sir Knight. I know there's some mystery surrounding you and your friends. Stephen tells me you're somehow involved in this secret mission for the king, but will say no more. I'm not sure why, but it gives me great comfort to know you ride at my brother's side.”

  Keir smiled, touched by Christophe's candid approach. “I never took you for a fool, my lord, and I value your faith in me. 'Tis well placed. You need not fear for your brother's safety.”

  Stephen shifted in the saddle, his impatience obvious. “We must go,” he said. “I'll try to return for the wedding, but it will depend on –”

  “Don't worry, Stephen.” Bee smiled up at him, her tears mixing with rain. “Just take care of Emma. Please give her my love and tell Finn...tell him I'll never forget what he told me.”

  Stephen nodded and urged his horse forward. “I'll send word to let you know what's happening. May God be with you both.”

  The cry echoed across the courtyard just as they got to the gate.

  “Wait!”

  They turned to see Anne running toward them, skirts lifted, hair hanging loose, silk slippers splashing through the mud. She stopped at the side of Stephen's horse, panting, her breath clouding in the air, rain dripping from her chin.

  “Please,” she said, holding out a small packet wrapped in oilskin. “Please give this to Emma.”

  Stephen's eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  “'Tis just a letter explaining how...how sorry I am for my unkindness. Stephen, can you forgive me? I cannot forgive myself unless you forgive me first.”

  Stephen frowned and took the scroll from her. “'Tis Emma's forgiveness you should seek, my lady. Not mine.”

  Anne nodded. “Indeed, but I don't doubt Emma's forgiveness, my lord. She...she's such a kind, sweet soul, without reproach. 'Tis your absolution that, I fear, might be more difficult to obtain.”

  Keir smiled, wondering if Stephen recognized the gentle insult embedded in Anne's words.

  “Very well.” Stephen tucked the letter into his tunic. “You have my forgiveness, for what it's worth. And I'll make sure Emma gets your letter. I know it will mean a lot to her.”

  Anne's eyes blurred with tears. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you with all my heart. May God keep you safe.”

  With Anne's blessing still hanging in the air, the two knights spurred their horses through the gates and rode into the dreary gloom of a November morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “He's healing well.” Althena stepped back and wiped her hands on her apron. “'Tis good to see.”

  “Aye, you've worked wonders, my love.” Alex reached up and ruffled Bart's forelock. The horse twitched his ears and snorted through his wounded nose. “He's not as fearful as he was.”

  “He was in pain, the poor old soul. Besides, his improvement is due to more than my remedies. You have a special way with God's creatures, Alexander.” She bent down and picked up the wooden bowl and cloth at her feet. “I'll go and clean this up. Are you staying here?”

  Alex cocked his head, a spark of mischief flaring in his mind. “Now, why would I stay out here when I can sit by a warm fire and watch you cook my dinner?”

  He resisted chuckling at Althena's indignant expression. “Alexander Mathanach. I've a good mind to...to...make you cook your own dinner. And here's me thinking you were a chivalrous knight.”

  “I am, my lady. What are we having?”

  She laughed. “Trout.”

  “And for dessert?” He grinned and gave her rump a playful pat. “Do you have something sweet for your chivalrous knight?”

  “I swear, my lord, you're quite beyond hope. I'm sure I don't know why I love you as much as I do.” She tossed back her long dark hair and headed for the door, grimacing at the sky. “It's raining again. If it carries on like this much longer, we'll be....” She froze mid-step. At the same time, Bart whinnied and shook his head.

  Alex's smile faded. “Althena?” With his sword half-drawn, he rushed to her side and followed her gaze across the clearing. “What...?” His voice failed him, caught up in a sudden wave of surprise and emotion. The sword slid back into the scabbard as he stepped out into the cold Cumberland rain. Not that he cared about the chill at that moment, for the sight before him warmed his heart.

  “She has returned at last,” he murmured. “'Tis a day I've prayed for.”

  Althena stepped to his side and voiced his unspoken thoughts. “But why is she with Finn? Where's Stephen?”

  Alex frowned. “I'm wondering the same thing.”

  A moment later, Finn's response brushed across his mind.

  She knows who and what I am, my friend. As to the rest....

  Emma reined in her horse some distance from the barn and slid from the saddle. She took a hesitant step, her face pale and drawn, her aura grey and bleak as the sky. Her obvious uncertainty confused Alex. Did she doubt his joy at seeing her?

  Unable to speak, he simply held out his arms in the timeless, loving gesture of a parent summoning his child. She let out a cry and ran to him, wet hair flying, feet splashing in the mud. With a sob in her throat she threw herself into his embrace.

  “Please, Cùra, forgive me. I didn't mean the things I said when I left. I've missed you so much.”

  Sweet Jesus, but she was thin. His chest tightened with grief at the feel of her tiny frame in his arms, every bone discernible to his touch, her heart rattling against his body at an alarming rate. Not quite two weeks had passed since he'd left Thurston, but in that time Emma had obviously languished. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  He lifted her chin and studied her, dismayed to see dark circles under her eyes as he stroked the wet hair back from her face. She looked tired and sad, her tears mixing with the icy rain. The stone vibrated gently at his side as he fought to contain his emotions.

  “Hush, a ghràidh. Calm yourself. There's
nothing to forgive. 'Tis beyond a blessing that you've returned. But where's Stephen?”

  Before she could answer, Finn rode up, threw his leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground.

  “Greetings, Alex.” He nodded at Althena. “It pleases me to see you in good health, mistress.”

  “My lord Finn.” Alex managed a smile and shook his friend's hand. “Welcome, and thank you for bringing my child home safe. But where is Stephen and Lord Keir?”

  Emma turned to Finn. “See? He doesn't know.” She shivered. “I told you 'twas but a dream.”

  “Doesn't know what?” Confused, Alex glanced at the sky, the stone amplifying his anxiety as he scowled at the rainclouds. He pulled Emma into the shelter of the barn. “Curse this weather. What is it I don't know?”

  “Alexander,” Finn interrupted, “we've travelled far. The little lass is cold, wet and tired. Perhaps we should get her settled before we discuss anything further?”

  Something in Finn's dark eyes struck deep into Alex's soul.

  “Aye, of course. Forgive me.” He took a slow breath, cupped Emma's face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Get yourself inside where it's warm, little one. I'll be with you as soon as we've seen to the horses.”

  “Come with me, Emma.” Althena held out her hand, her smile failing to disguise the concern in her eyes. “We'll get you dried off and warm some broth for you.”

  Alex watched them disappear into the house and then spun round, no longer caring to restrain his anger. The stone pulsed in time with his heartbeat. “God's blood, Finn. What happened after I left Thurston? The lass weighs less than a barn cat. What is this thing I know nothing about? This...this dream she spoke of? And where's Stephen, for Christ's sake?”

  “Calm yourself, Guardian.” Finn gestured to the sword. “You're treading dangerous ground. There's indeed much to tell, but Emma must relate most of it herself. 'Tis not my place to do so. I suggest we see to these poor beasts then follow the women to the fireside. You'll learn everything then.” Finn pulled the saddle off his horse and took a deep breath. “I'll say this, there's more to the wee chailín than meets the eye. Her instincts are remarkable. She's either unaware of her abilities or, for some reason, denying them. I suspect the latter. You know, don't you, that she recognized you at Thurston? Saw through the shield, just as Stephen did?”

  “Aye.” Alex swallowed against his declining anger as he looked toward the cottage door. “That I know.”

  Finn raised an eyebrow. “Can you explain how she was able to do that?”

  “Nay, my lord.” A different sensation stirred deep within him, one he could not quite define. “I cannot.”

  The cottage smelled of wood smoke, vegetable broth and freshly fried trout. Rain thrummed against the thatch in a steady rhythm, enhancing the cozy feel of the kitchen. Candlelight poked into the dismal corners, and the fire cast dancing shadows across the ceiling. Emma sat staring into the flames, a blanket around her shoulders, a bowl of steaming broth in her hands. She looked up and gave a weak smile when Alex and Finn entered.

  “Feeling better, a ghràidh?” Alex unbuckled his sword, propped it against the wall, and went to her. He crouched at her side and looked into her troubled eyes, wondering what demon ate so ravenously at her soul. “Warmer now?”

  “A little.” She let out a shaky breath and handed the bowl to Alex. “Take this, please, Cùra. I can't eat anymore.”

  “But you've hardly touched it.” He stood set the bowl on the table. “Please tell me what ails you.”

  Emma glanced at Finn, who lifted Alex's sword from the wall and nodded to her. “Go ahead, little one.”

  She rose and faced them, her expression tight with anguish. “I'm...I'm with child. Argante's child.”

  A cold hand of reality reached into Alex's chest and squeezed his heart. His world stilled for a moment, the only noticeable sound being a soft cry of dismay from Althena. Everything else faded into a blurred silence as Emma's sad confession engraved itself on his mind. Certainly, the possibility of her conceiving Argante's child had occurred to him, but he'd denied the likelihood. He voiced his reasoning in a ragged breath.

  “God cannot be that cruel.”

  “My same thought.” Finn ran his thumb over the sword's hilt. “But for whatever reason, He has seen fit to visit a harsh burden on your little lass.”

  “Oh, Emma. I'm so sorry, love.” Althena went to her and pressed a kiss against her damp hair. “Whether it be God's will or fate's wicked hand, you don't deserve this.”

  Emma pushed her fingers against her temples. “'Tis a nightmare unlike any I could ever have imagined. But I do deserve it. I should have listened to you, Cùra. I should have stayed in the house that night. But I disobeyed, and now I'm being punished. 'Tis my fault, all of it.”

  “Christ.” Alex pulled her into his arms. “You're wrong, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. 'Tis the fault of that bastard who might yet live because of me. Don't blame yourself. But where's Stephen? I can't believe he would abandon you at a time like this.”

  Emma shook her head. “I left Thurston before he returned. I couldn't bear to face him, see the rejection in his eyes. He'll not want me, now I carry the seed of a monster. 'Tis a devil's child, an evil thing.”

  “Evil, is it?” Alex said, his heart breaking at the despair in her voice. “Must we assume then, that the goodness in your soul was cast aside at the moment of conception?”

  Emma gasped. “That's what you said when.... that’s what you said in my dream.”

  “Your dream?” Alex sensed Finn's dark stare and glanced at him. “What dream?”

  “You came to me the other night in a... a vision. I was in such despair, but you comforted me, told me to look to the stars for hope. And you told me to come home.”

  Finn cleared his throat and sat down at the table. Alex had the distinct impression of a question left unspoken.

  “May I speak with you in private, lass?” Althena linked Emma's arm and gestured toward the bedroom. “There are things I would say that are not for the ears of men.”

  Emma rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Aye, of course.”

  “Althena has a strong spirit,” Finn observed, after the women left.

  “Yet not immune to your manipulation it seems.” Alex straddled a chair. “Now you've got rid of them, what did you want to ask me? I know you have a question.”

  “Aye, I do.” Finn cleared his throat. “How do you feel?”

  Alex gave a bitter laugh and gestured to the sword. “You're holding the answer to that in your hand. I know you're shielding me and I thank you, but for Christ's sake how do you think I feel? I suffer with my child. I feel her pain, her fear and her sadness. I only pray she's wrong about Stephen.”

  “No need to pray for that, my friend. Stephen and Keir will be here tomorrow.” Finn chuckled. “Apparently, Keir's having difficulty keeping up with him.”

  “Thank God.” Alex heaved a sigh. “I didn't think he would forsake her. She needs to be told.”

  “Nay, she does not, Alex. You know full well we do not speak of foreseen events. Nothing in the future is known for sure. If it is to be, she'll see him soon enough. And that's not my question, by the way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “'How do you feel' is not my question.”

  Alex frowned. “Then what is?”

  Finn stood and placed the sword back against the wall. “I want you to think back three nights ago. Did anything untoward happen? Anything strange?”

  A vague sense of apprehension surfaced in Alex's mind. “Might I ask why?”

  “Nay. I want to hear what you have to say first.”

  Alex straightened and took a slow breath. “I believe something did happen that night, aye. But I'm not sure what.”

  Finn's eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  Alex gave half a shrug. “I remember undressing and going to bed the night before, yet when Althena woke me the next morning, I was fully clothed. She said I'd g
ot up in the night, but I have no memory of it. That was the morning Bart returned.”

  Finn nodded. “Anything else?”

  “I was in pain.”

  “Pain?”

  “Felt liked I'd been trampled by a horse.”

  Finn nodded again. “Has this ever happened before?”

  Aye it had, and in that moment Alex remembered when, but he had no desire to admit it. He shook his head and looked at the floor.

  Finn leaned forward. “This is important, Alex. When? How many times?”

  “Once before.” Alex met Finn's gaze. “Many years ago, when I was serving in the Holy Land. We always slept fully clothed in readiness for battle, so being dressed was normal, but I remember waking up one morning with the same pain. Except, that time it was more severe. So bad, in fact, I couldn't leave my bed until close to noon. One of the men said I'd left the tent in the night and not returned for several hours, but I had no recollection of doing that.”

  “That's the only other time this loss of memory has occurred?”

  “Aye.” Alex couldn't resist a wry smile. “As far as I can remember.”

  Finn ignored the quip and looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Well, here's why I ask. Three nights ago, Emma awoke from a nightmare. She was frightened, distraught and unable to sleep. Apparently, she went up to the roof, seeking some kind of...release.” He frowned. “She told me you appeared out of nowhere. You spoke to her, held her, and showed her hope where none existed. Then you simply vanished. That experience is what prompted her to return home. She thinks she had a dream, a vision of sorts. But I'm curious, Alexander. Am I stirring a memory? Can you offer any kind of explanation?”

  It couldn't be. Not again.

  Alex shifted in his seat, his heart racing mercilessly as his mind fought to suppress memories long since buried. “I can only surmise Emma needed a guardian angel. In her desperation, perhaps her mind created one, and it took the form of the man who has guided her through life. 'Tis not so strange when you consider it.”