by Tamara Gill
“You are everything to me,” she said, unclenching her fist to clasp the ring. “I wish we had more time. I want you to know that Aimecourt and its people are proud to have you as their lord.”
“Don’t put that ring on, Madeline,” William yelled. “Please, I beg you.”
Maddie ignored the men who laughed around them. Her mind frantically took in William’s every feature, captured his image for the empty years ahead of her. The lump in her throat burned as hot as the ring. She hesitated over her choice to obey Lord Ribald. But she refused to be the cause of William’s death. She would rather be alone for the rest of her days than be the cause of his demise. And if she stayed, she was dead anyway. There was no hope.
“I love you, William. I think,” she winced, gasped, as pain tore through her. “That I loved you since the day you kissed me in the woodshed.”
“Madeline...”
“I will miss you forever.”
“I love you, ma chère.”
“My patience wanes,” Lord Ribald said, his eyes hard but glittering in anticipation.
Maddie took one last look at William as she slipped the ring on her left hand. Nothing happened at first and a rare spark of hope that she was meant to stay blossomed in her mind. Not that such a thing would be good now, as they had ensured her death. No sooner had she had the thought, noises of her previous life assailed her. She heard a car horn, traffic sounds, a TV news program.
Her eyes met William’ as the life she loved started to blur. An image of a different kind started to form. She had been here before. It was all so awfully familiar. She tried to scream, hold on to the past that had started to fade. William’s eyes, frantic and unsure, held onto her. A gaze that would haunt her forever. The last of the trees melted and spun away and a new picture appeared before her.
Maddie looked up at her work desk, her night light on, her computer with the star simulation screensaver working away. She was home in Greenwich. Her hand strayed to her stomach: no stab wound marred her skin and no pain assailed her body other than the ache in her heart. She looked down at her hand, her eyes unsurprised to see the ring gone also. Her eyes welled with tears. Just as William was, nine-hundred years dead.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
What had happened? Lady Madeline lay down upon the cool leaf bed of the forest and inhaled the damp air into her lungs. Lungs that burned with every breath she took. What was going on? She clutched at the wound in her stomach and knew the minutes she had left in this world were few. How could travelling to the church to marry the Baron of Kingston have gone so wrong? And why did she not remember how she got here this day? Or where here was. Or why men, many of them, stood around her.
Horns sounded in the distance.
Shouts and commands rang out. Madeline shut her eyes and blocked out the images. She did not want her last thoughts in this world to be gruesome. The way she was dying was horrific enough. She clutched at the leaves underhand as pain sliced through her. She wanted someone to help her. She did not want to die alone. Why had this happened to her? It was not fair.
She looked over to a man whom another held. He fought against his restraints, his eyes furious and cold. She focused on the one she assumed had stabbed her, his face mocking, his blade bloodied. Calmness swamped her as she watched the mighty lord. He looked familiar for some unknown reason, but she could not remember meeting such a man.
Madeline shut her eyes as tiredness filled her veins. She fought the dark, opened them and stared at the canopy of trees above. The green branches swayed in the wind, their creaks sounded soft against the words of men around her. So this was it. This was her end. A tear rolled down her cheek, one she neither had the will to wipe or stem. At least it was a memorable death, she supposed. Even if, perhaps, a little too soon in her short four and twenty years of life. She shut her eyes in wait. It would not be long now...
***
William watched Madeline upon the ground, her body squirming in pain. He met Lord Ribald’s laughing eyes and watched the bastard clean his sword on a nearby branch. Revenge, such as he’d never known, fired his blood. Promised the laughing smirk on Lord Ribald lips, would be cut from his face. In fact, the murderer would be lucky to keep his head atop his shoulders before this night fell.
William’s blood pounded in his veins and he would kill them all. He would avenge Madeline. Or he would die in the battle of doing so. His knights, their war cry loud in the forest, rode into the clearing. They made fast work of the Lord Ribald’s small war party. William joined the melee and killed the knights who had kept him from Madeline with their own swords. The knight’s puzzlement over the unexpected attack from Kingston men was all the time William needed to strike them dead.
His soldiers, better trained and more loyal, did not take long to control the murderers who followed the crazed Lord Ribald of Castle Dee. William tore through men as the wind tore through the trees. Every knight who stepped toward him met his blade, was sliced down, and his eyes never left those of his prey.
William’s mind replayed the tormenting scene of Madeline’s body lurching back as a blade tore through her flesh. Her face one of shock, pain, then comprehension. Lord Ribald had stabbed her with no remorse or pity and William had lost her. She was gone. Lord Ribald would pay with his life.
His hand flexed on his bloodied sword. His gaze focused on Lord Ribald standing before him. No men from Castle Dee stood, all were cut down, dead or dying. William’s knights surrounded the baron.
“’Twould be foolish for you to kill a baron, Lord William,” Ribald said, his voice no longer smug. The man’s gaze darted about, looking for an escape that was not there.
“Then I am a fool,” William stated. The blow was clean. He watched absently as Lord Ribald’s head rolled to the ground. The dead baron’s body stood upright for a moment before collapsing forward.
He welcomed the death of a man who had taken his wife.
Justice.
William dropped his sword on the ground.
“M’lord,” Sir Torent said. “She is here.”
William turned and found his first knight holding Madeline’s hand, his other upon her stomach holding a bandage against the wound that was already soaked through. William ran to her. He kneeled and grief tore through him twofold. The woman’s eyes had dimmed, her lifeblood already a part of the forest floor. It was not his wife, but the woman whom he was supposed to have married those many months ago who lay before him.
His Madeline was gone.
Her chest rose the smallest fraction, her breath shallow. William took in her wound. Beheading was too good a death for the bastard. Lord Ribald’s strike had been lethal in its appointment. He looked down and noted that the gash severed upwards within her abdomen. Madeline’s death would be painful and at length, no one deserved such an ending. Especially her. An innocent woman who paid for wrong doings of someone else’s past. William looked down at the frightened woman, her features uncomprehending and confused. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his wife’s eyes met his. Madeline’s eyes.
“Pray...I do not understand?”
William wiped the hair from her face, her brow covered in a sheen of sweat. What could he say? There was nothing he could tell this woman in the short time she had left that would make any sense. He shook his head.
“Keep your strength, my lady. Do not talk.” His eyes met those of his first knight. She will be gone soon enough, the silent words between them.
“But...” Madeline said, and then proceeded to wheeze as if struggling for breath.
William’s eyes narrowed, wished her gone and out of pain. “’Twas not your fault, Lady Madeline. Your travels this day put you between battles not of your making. I’m sorry,” he said.
“You know me?” she asked.
William’s heart crumbled in his chest. “I know who you are, my lady.”
Madeline’s eyes closed, her breathing slowed with every second. It was his fault. He should never have started relations with
Lady Veronica. He should not have allowed his father’s hatred toward the Baron of Aimecourt to cloud his judgement.
“I’m cold.”
William pulled Madeline into his arms and held her tight. Tears rolled down his face as his wife breathed her last. He shut his eyes at the pain that consumed him. He had lost them both. He looked over Madeline’s shoulder and met those of his enemies who still lived, of Veronica and her mother, and his hatred had no limits.
“Kill them.”
“M’lord, is that wise? How will you explain their deaths to the king?” His first knight said with concern.
“I will not. Bury them. Their disappearances are not my concern,” William said, his eyes hard, unforgivable.
“William, please. I did not mean—” Veronica pleaded.
“Thank God ’tis not me at the end of the blade that will kill you, Veronica.” William looked to his men. “Kill them or face me.”
The women’s screams rang out and then silenced moments later. Sir Alex and Lord Ribald in wait for them at the gates of hell. William clutched at the limp form in his arms, her body cold and lifeless. He clamped his jaw and stood. Settled her in his arms and started to walk toward Kingston Castle.
Their home...
His men stood aside and watched in silence as he carried Madeline from the grove. His tunic soon dampened from her blood. William tried to remind himself that this woman in his arms was not the woman he loved, but another.
A cold comfort that did not work.
He clutched her desperately against him and held her close to his heart. The wind lifted her hair, wafted a scent of lavender, the hint of jasmine. Memories assailed him. He staggered before he righted his footing.
Madeline...
It broke his control.
He yelled and cursed God for taking her from him. It was too soon. They had not said goodbye. Were never given the chance.
This was wrong.
They were meant to be.
They would be.
Even if it took all eternity.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Maddie, what are you doing?”
Maddie gasped, her hands clenching on the leather book in her hands. She controlled her breathing and reminded herself she was safe. Back in the twenty-first century where no one wanted to kill her. Only when Jackie repeated the question a second time did she answer.
“I’m looking up my family history. I remember mum saying she kept all the records in a box. But I can’t find it anywhere.” Maddie stood and dusted off her pants, her teeth working her bottom lip. “What if I’ve lost them? What if I threw them out by accident after their deaths?”
Jackie came into the attic and started her own search. “Don’t worry, we’ll find what you’re looking for. But I still think you need to let go of this dream you’ve had.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” Maddie snapped back and instantly contrite when Jackie’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. But it wasn’t a dream.” Maddie shook her head, not willing to believe that for a moment. Not after all the months she’d spent with William. No, it couldn’t possibly have been a dream.
Jackie dragged out a box from under some linen throws and started to look. “Even if you find this family tree book, what good will it do you? Your experience happened nine-hundred years ago. Lord William is long gone. He can’t come back.” Jackie’s face was a look of sorrow and concern. “I worry for you, Maddie, that’s all. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Maddie turned her back so her friend wouldn’t see the stream of tears that were ever-present. She didn’t need Jackie to be concerned, she was concerned enough herself. Even if she found the book and noted Lady Madeline was a distant relative, what would she get out of it? It may prove in some small way that what had happened did, in fact, occur, but what use of such knowledge. Jackie was right. There was no going back, and no way in which to see William again. Maddie wiped her nose with the back of her hand then turned and sought out another box not previously searched. “I’ll be all right,” she said to her friend. “I know there’s no going back. I just miss him, that’s all.”
“He sounds wonderful,” Jackie said, with a consolatory smile.
Maddie nodded. “He was.”
They searched for some time in quiet, both silent with their own thoughts. After an hour or so, Maddie went downstairs and made a coffee for them both.
“Maddie!” Jackie called her voice muffled by the two floors above. “I think I’ve found it.”
Maddie left their coffees on the counter and ran up the stairs. She burst into the attic and walked over to Jackie who sat on an old chest, her face alight and looking at an old tome she held on her lap.
Maddie sat next to her. “Let me see.”
The book was thick and its pages discoloured with time. The once-smooth leather binding was now ripped down the spine, parts of it rotted away entirely. Maddie looked down on the first page and noted the ancient text, some of it in French due to her Norman descent. The first record was in 1018 in a town named Falaise. Maddie shook her head in awe.
“Do you think the book is that old?” Jackie asked, her fingers lightly touching the page.
“I don’t believe so,” Maddie said. “I doubt paper of the eleventh century would have lasted so long, especially the way mum had it stored.” Maddie frowned. “No, I believe the book has been rewritten at some time.”
“Is there any mention of Lady Madeline?” Jackie asked.
Maddie turned to another page seeking out the year 1078. Eventually she found a notation. It read: Lady Madeline Vincent, born Aimecourt Castle, Cumberland 1078. Died Kingston Castle, Cumberland 1103. Mêlée, the cause of death.
Jackie frowned and met Maddie’s gaze. “I don’t understand. How is it that you’re related if she died.”
Maddie went back a page and looked at her parents’ parentage and family. Both had siblings who married and had children. So she did have family that were alive in that time, but who knew where they had been. “It must be through one of these other family lines, I suppose,” Maddie said
“But your last name is St. Clair,” Jackie said.
Maddie frowned. “I must stem from a female child who married and their name changed.”
“Is there any mention of William?”
Maddie bit her lip to mask the pain his name brought forth in her chest. She read all the notes around Lady Madeline’s entry. “Look Jackie,” Maddie said, pointing to an entry on the page. “It states the Baron of Kingston died some months later. His body never recovered.” Maddie met Jackie’s eyes. “He died.” Her vision blurred.
Jackie placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. “Well, of course he did, Maddie. It was so very long ago. And England wasn’t the tamest then. I’m so sorry.”
Maddie bit her trembling lip. So was she. She looked back down to the entry. So Lady Madeline and Lord William weren’t a figment of her imagination. They had lived and Madeline was a distant relative. “I never knew of these people before, Jackie. I’m telling you the truth. So how could I know of them now?”
Jackie rubbed her arm. “I don’t know. Perhaps what you experienced really did happen. Stranger things have been known to occur,” she said, smiling. “Maybe you are one of the lucky ones to have been blessed.”
Maddie shut the book and clasped it to her chest. “Do you think they still stand?”
“What?” Jackie asked, her brow furrowed.
“Aimecourt and Kingston Castle.”
“I don’t know. I suppose some form of what was once there maybe still standing.” Jackie paused. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“I think I may take a little trip,” Maddie replied, standing and walking toward the attic door. “Could you look after my shop while I’m away? I shouldn’t be more than a week.”
Jackie stood and followed. “Do you think this is wise? It’s one thing to believe what you do, but to now go and see an estate that is probably rubble
...I don’t think it’s healthy.”
“I’m only going to have a look. I have to say goodbye. I’ll be back by the week’s end and ready to move on, I promise,” Maddie said.
Jackie smiled and hugged her. “Okay, I’ll watch the shop. But be careful and come home safely.”
Maddie nodded and walked into her room to pack. “I will, I promise.”
***
William Dowell sat up in bed; a cold sweat raked his body, leaving him confused and uneasy. He clutched his chest, had a moment of panic where he thought he might be having a heart attack. Surely at thirty-two years of age he was a little young for that. He sighed in relief as the pain gradually subsided.
He pulled his legs from under the blankets and sat over the edge of the bed. He swiped a hand through his hair while he tried to think of the reoccurring dream that had been haunting his nights for weeks. Never had he dreamed such reality before. Everything was so vivid and real, he could almost believe he had lived it in the flesh.
“Mmmm, darling, come back to bed.”
William looked in thought down at the lithe form next to him, a feminine hand straying from under the quilts to run down his back. Once he would have turned and laid claim in the early morning, but not today. In fact, by day’s end, he’d be lucky if his lover ever spoke to him again. He sighed and walked to the window that overlooked his estate, land that had been in the family for generations. He watched the morning sun burn away the frost that covered the ground.
He dressed quickly and quit the room, his steps down the staircase sure and purposeful. There had to be something wrong with him. Perhaps he ought to see a doctor. William paused at the base of the stairs and tried to remember when last he’d seen one.
He walked into the breakfast room and sat down to coffee already steaming at his customary place. He couldn’t keep on like this.
“The usual, Mr. Dowell?”
William looked up at his butler and nodded. “Thank you, George.” Within moments his breakfast sat before him; the smell of bacon and eggs wafted up, but didn’t spark his appetite like it usually did.
