“Cruel tales flowed freely about Catriona’s Viking ancestors, and it did not matter that she was an innocent. To give their people time to forget Alric’s impulsiveness, King Bardwyn sent Prince Alric here to rule Damnonia for him. The King hoped that while exiled in Damnonia, the Cambrians would only hear of Alric’s good and prosperous deeds, and not view the foreign princess at his side. But the journey and hostilities were so rough on Catriona that she lost their son. She was so unhappy that she returned home to Albany for a long visit.
“You cannot guess the torments that your mother, and your grandparents, and your great-grandparents, endured because of whom they chose to love. I warn you now, little one, take care with your choosing.”
Giselde’s cheeks were flushed with intense emotion, but she continued. “The Norsemen attacked our land once more. It was a bloody day and nearly all were slain. Both Catriona and I and others were rescued by Prince Briac, now the King of Cumbria, whose land borders Albany. Briac was gentle with Catriona, and his kingdom was peaceful. We remained so long that Alric feared Catriona would never return to his side. It would have been best if she had not, but that day is past.
“When Catriona returned to Damnonia, she brought me with her. Many people were angry at her for bringing another barbarian into their land, for news of the Viking raids along the coast had traveled faster than we had; many feared and mistrusted us, and said dark winds followed us. They said her presence in Damnonia would bring the Vikings down on it too. But Catriona begged Alric to let me remain at her side, and so I did. For many years they doubted she could bear more children; then you were born, and everyone rejoiced. You and Catriona won the people’s hearts, and the dark past vanished. How happy we were until your mother died.”
Giselde warned gravely, “You must share these secrets with no one, Alysa, no one. Never mention such days to your father or others, or ask questions about that time. The past is often dark and painful, and dangerous. They think I am dead, or if alive, far away in Albany. Believe me, Alric and Isobail will become angry if they learn I am so close, and they will prevent us from seeing each other again. I am a reminder of things they wish buried forever; they would view me as a threat. Never betray me to them, little one, with good intentions or by carelessness. Or they will have me… returned to Albany.”
“I have given you my word, Granmannie, so you know I will keep all things between us a secret,” Alysa vowed. “But you must not fear and mistrust my father so deeply: He would never harm you. He is kind, and he is very ill these days. For the past year he has grown weaker each month. Today I came to beg you to come to the castle to heal him. Will you, Granmannie?”
Giselde patted her hand as she shook her gray head. “I cannot, Alysa. His illness is of his own making, and my skills are powerless to help him. I have known Alric a long time, and many bad things have passed between us. He would rather confront the Evil Beast himself than face me. There can be no peace between us again, so do not dream foolish dreams or make perilous gestures of truce. My healing arts are of no use to Prince Alric.”
“Why do you refuse to tell me what happened between you long ago? Surely it is only a misunderstanding that can be resolved. Let me help,” Alysa urged.
“There is nothing you or anyone can do; some words and deeds cannot be changed. If such was possible, you and’ Isobail would be as mother and daughter. Keep your word and let things remain as they are. The day will come when peace will rule our hearts and lands again.”
Giselde had told her more this morning than ever before, so Alysa asked, “Did my father do something terrible to you or my mother? Do you blame him for her death?”
Giselde realized such knowledge could put Alysa in danger so she responded, “Despite the shadows over them, Alric and Catriona were very much in love and were happy for many years, until Evil crept into this land. Evil hungered to conquer Damnonia. Evil claimed your mother’s life, and Evil is still at work in this land.” Giselde shuddered as if very cold, and her face waxed paler. “Stir the fire and add more wood, Alysa; the air grows chilly for old bones.”
Alysa did as she was told and probed deeper, “Is that why you live here? To find a way to battle this Evil? Is that what you fear, Granmannie? Come to the castle; my father will protect you.”
Giselde answered, “Your father cannot even protect himself, little one.”
“Who is behind this, Granmannie? What do they want? And why can my father and his knights not defeat them? You possess great skills; can you not help us?”
Giselde gazed into the entreating expression of Princess Alysa and saw Catriona reflected there. Tears dampened her eyes, and breathing became difficult. She pressed twisted fingers to her chest where slicing pains knifed viciously, and she willed the pain to halt. She could not tell this cherished girl of her suspicions, her knowledge, her plans. Alysa was too young, naive, and brave; and there was no guessing what the young woman would do with such information.
Giselde’s response was guarded, “I cared for Catriona from her birth to her death, and I did the same for you until that black day when I was compelled to desert you. You are the most important thing in my life, little one. I could not protect your mother from Evil, but I will find a way to protect you. That is why no one at the castle must know I am nearby.”
“Many know you are here, Granmannie. You go to the villages to heal the sick. What if Isobail learns of you? She will force Father to punish you, for he is too weak to battle her. You must not remain here or grow such plants; it is forbidden by law.”
“Isobail cannot harm me, little one. I am very careful, and the villagers need me. Yea, they tease about me, but they do not betray me, and few could ever guess who I truly am. My appearance has changed greatly since I lived in the castle nine years ago. My hair is no longer thick and shiny, and its brown has turned to gray. The sea blue of my eyes has faded and they are drab like old cloth. See how much fat lives on my once slender body. And my skin,” she remarked, laughing sadly, pointing out each area as she disclosed her changes, “my skin has more wrinkles than a freshly crushed leaf, and its color is as yellow as the primrose, not the pretty pink and white of the May apple, as yours is and mine was. Even my clothes are rags, not silks or fine linens, and no jewels adorn my body. I doubt even your father and Isobail would recognize me today.
“If I could heal your father my little Alysa, I would go with you and do so. It is impossible. His fate is in the hands of the gods whom he has offended,” Giselde said, though her gods remained nameless because her religion forbid her to call them by name in fear of omitting or insulting one, and incurring their wrath. She had not lied to Alysa; even if she knew what was wrong with Alric, she could not help him. Alric had chosen his allies, so he must depend on their dark powers and aid now…
But Alysa was saying, “… if only you were at the castle with me.”
“Your handmaiden Thisbe takes good care of you, little one. Besides, I am too old for heavy chores and steep castle steps. I have returned to the way my people lived before I came here with my Catriona. Do you wish me to live in the castle and be as miserable as you are?”
Alysa frowned and shook her head. “I wish I could live here with you. Malvern Castle has not been home since Mother died. Even my cherished servants Piaras and Leitis do not act like themselves anymore. And Isobail handles everything for Father; it is as though she were our queen rather than Father’s second wife. If only Father had not brought Isobail into our castle as Mother’s waiting woman. Mother did not need her; Mother had you to take care of her. I am sure she did not like Isobail or want her around. Neither did I, Giselde. Perhaps I was overly jealous, but sometimes Father played with her son Moran more than he did with me. I was glad when Moran left Malvern Castle to live at Sir Kelton’s far away.”
Alysa sighed. “I must pay for such wicked feelings, for my mind has begun to play tricks on me. I feel cold eyes on me each day, eyes I cannot see. I sense peril where I can find none. I feel lost, and
alone, and afraid, Granmannie. I do not know what I shall do when Moran returns home. His training period is nearly over; soon he will become a knight. Is it always so hard to have stepbrothers and stepsisters?” A cloudy expression filled Giselde’s eyes, but she lowered her head to conceal the curious look from Alysa’s gaze. “If Isobail can gather enough money and land for her son before his squire’s days end, perhaps he will not return to Alric’s castle.”
“I am certain she will,” Alysa said, “for he cannot become a knight without them, and Moran would never remain a squire past twenty-one.” Alysa was glad that Isobail’s son, who frequently had battled her with words and fists, had left the castle at age seven to become a page at Sir Kelton’s: a knight and vassal for Lord Orin, who was a feudal lord for her father. A page’s training began at seven or eight, squire training at fourteen, then knighthood at twenty-one, if a man had land and money to support himself and his duty.
Giselde observed Alysa as she was lost in thought for a time. Giselde suspected what Moran truly desired: to become Prince Alric’s heir, making him the next ruler of this territory and possibly the next king after Alric’s father, King Bardwyn of Cambria, the kingdom that owned the land of Damnonia. Too, from reports by Piaras—the castle’s trainer of squires and knights—Moran had made it apparent during his occasional visits that he desired Alysa. That event could never take place, never…
“You must return home, little one. I have herbs to prepare before they wither and become useless. I must warn you to beware of Isobail and her evil, for it grows darker each day. Days of great peril are ahead. A fierce conqueror is hungry for our lands and will do all manner of evil to obtain them. A wicked alliance has been formed by those you know, and it will cause great havoc in your life and lands. There have been other warnings in my dreams,’ little one, warnings that frighten me. Speak to no strangers, Alysa, for you are the child of two royal bloodlines from Cambria and Albany. To conquer, you will bring an end to the peace. Beware of a man with sunny hair and leafy eyes who wishes to make you and this principality his. He, like all his family, is greedy. His words will drip with tainted honey. His sweet smiles will conceal bitter feelings and rank secrets. He will pretend to be your only hope, and he will make you many false promises. He will ask for your love and trust; do not grant them. His evil bloodline must never mingle with yours, or you will be doomed forever.” When Giselde gave Alysa this warning about Moran, she had not even seen the green-eyed man in many years and did not know that his once blond hair had darkened steadily to light brown…
“I do not understand, Granmannie. Who is this wicked man? When will I meet him? Where? How will I know he is the one you speak of?” Alysa’s lips overflowed with frantic questions. She knew Giselde had knowledge that she did not fully understand. “You must not allow such evil to threaten us, Granmannie.”
Giselde sighed. “My powers are meager next to those who desire these lands and revenge.”
“Revenge?”
“Long ago many wicked things happened in this land and in others, little one. Each day more wickedness is born. For such deeds, many yearn for just vengeance; others crave blind revenge. If Evil is not conquered and forced back into its dark cave, more will suffer and more will die. Go; there is nothing you can do but watch and wait. If you remain here, others will come to seek you. If I am slain, there will be one less to battle Evil.”
“Isobail is part of this Evil, is she not?” Alysa asked. “I will keep my eyes and ears on her and those around her. I will tell you all—”
“Nay!” Giselde shouted. “Her advisor Earnon is a cunning wizard. No doubt it is his potent eyes that you sense upon you each day. You must do nothing to arouse their suspicions. Isobail has little use for the heir of Alric and of Bardwyn, so she ignores you for now. Do not make yourself a threat to her plans. Hear me well, my child: my powers are meager when compared to Earnon’s; do not challenge him to destroy both of us. He is totally loyal to your stepmother and will do anything she asks of him—anything, Alysa,” she said.
“Are Isobail and Earnon the ones to fear? Are they the reason you live in hiding? Did she frighten you away from the castle long ago, or do you also fear my father?”
“I can say no more, my child. Please, Alysa, obey me in this,” the old woman pleaded. “I know of things you do not, and cannot be told. Help will arrive soon and free all from this Evil.”
“What help, Granmannie? What evil threatens us?” Alysa rubbed the old woman’s suddenly cold hands with her warm ones. She felt Giselde tremble, causing her apprehensions to mount. “Is my father in danger too? He is so weak these days. He hardly knows me. How can we defeat this danger?”
Pulling her hands free and rising, Giselde said, “You are in no danger my child. The spirits of Good protect you.”
“Then why can I not help you and the others?” she asked.
Giselde walked to the doorway and halted there, gazing out as she replied, “Because Evil can cause danger to others if you interfere.”
Alysa stared at the old woman’s back and puzzled over her words. “If Evil has cast a spell over my father, I must free him. Tell me how, Granmannie. If you truly love me, help me; help him.”
When the old woman spoke, her voice was weary. “Upon the heads of all I love,” she said, “I am doing all I can to defeat Evil. If you interfere, all could be lost.”
“Then I am helpless?”
“For a time all are helpless, little one, even me.”
Long, silent minutes passed. Alysa realized that Giselde would tell her nothing more today. “Why not send word to my grandfather? King Bardwyn and Cambria are powerful, surely he will send warriors to help us.”
Giselde was glad Alysa could not see her face as she responded, “If your father desired help from King Bardwyn, he would send word. He does not wish him to know of the trouble here. If Alric cannot defend Damnonia and make her prosper, then he can never become king after his father. He was sent here to prove himself, and he is failing. Do not be sad, Alysa. That is good, for his wife Isobail would rule beside him as Queen of Cambria and Damnonia; she would take King Alric’s place as she has taken Prince Alric’s place.”
Alysa had not considered one vital point, for she had been too worried about her ailing father. What of Damnonia and what was best for it? she wondered. Where did her loyalty lie? In order to protect her father’s honor could she stand aside while her land was destroyed? There was so much at stake, and she had to learn all she could before acting unwisely.
“I will obey you, Granmannie,” she promised. For now, she added to herself. The blood of female fighters, Viking and Celtic warriors, ran swiftly in her veins. Surely there was something she could do to help her father and their lands…
Giselde turned and hugged her tightly. “Do not worry, little one. You will find a friend and ally where you least expect one.” She watched Alysa cover her bountiful hair with the hunter’s green cape and hood, then fade into the trees.
Now sitting quietly in the forest at the water’s edge, Giselde’s words kept running through her head, and she did not know what to think about them. Squinting, she gazed at the mesmeric glitters on the surface of the pool until she became drowsy, which came easily since she had slept little the last few nights. Slowly her green-clad body sank to the grassy earth, and she began to doze and dream.
Alysa witnessed a terrible battle being waged in a colorful meadow where grass and flowers were stained forever with bright red blood. She saw her people, dressed in glowing white garments, clash desperately with barbaric foes dressed as the darkest night. She was amazed to see female warriors, whose faces were shadowed, fighting skillfully beside their mates. She quickly joined them, for dear old Sir Piaras had allowed her to practice with the squires, until Isobail had put a stop to it.
Alysa moved agilely as she used her lightweight sword to defeat several foes, before grabbing her lance to pierce the bodies of two more. The reality of their deaths never entered her mind, for
she was exhilarated by the fact that she was defending her land. Then she saw her mother wounded. Abruptly, Alysa tossed aside her bow and arrows, but before she could reach Catriona, her mother sank into the earth and vanished. Stunned, Alysa heard a female voice shrieking warnings of doom, and she turned to find Giselde standing on a cliff which overlooked the meadow, a strong wind whipping her flowing white garments about her body. Before she could react, Giselde was slain by a giant black bird. Alysa knew she should stay and fight, but she wanted to run from the tragic scene.
As with all dreams, Alysa was tossed here and there at the whims of its images. Suddenly she was swept into a stranger’s arms and they galloped away on his golden charger, her dazed mind dismissing the previous scene as if it had never happened. Her silky gown and long hair whipped about wildly in the wind. She could not make out the man’s face, but she perceived blurs of gold and green, and a curious patch of blue. She felt strong arms banding her body, and thrilled to his sensuous touch and magical allure. Heady masculine smells—musky sweat, well-worn leather—filled her nostrils and caused tingles to race through her.
Alysa struggled to see him clearly, but his image evaded her.” She perceived that he was a tall, muscular man, a fierce warrior with matchless skills, fearing nothing and no one; a man seeking many things in her land, a man with dangerous secrets, a conqueror of lands and enemies and women.
Alysa tried to pull free of the persistent and powerful stranger but something irresistible drew her to him, even though she sensed peril surrounding him, even though she knew she could not trust him. A terrifying feeling of entrapment invaded her entire body, and she struggled harder for freedom. Refusing to release her, he galloped through the castle gates, claiming both her land and her as his victory prize. He dismounted from the horse, smiled, and she felt as if the blazing sun was beating down on her. He called her name and beckoned her, exuding enormous magnetism, and she found herself wanting to yield to him. Her body warmed, her pulse raced, and she could not disobey.
Wild Is My Love Page 2
