Wild Is My Love

by Janelle Taylor

  The time carved into the rock caught her attention again. Yes, it was after she had witnessed Isobail’s return to the castle. But that didn’t mean she had met with Gavin, Alysa reasoned, recalling how tender Gavin had been with her. She reflected on their talks, their visits, their lovemakings, envisioned his expressions and mused on his personality. How could such a man be a deadly criminal? A treacherous deceiver? He was an admittedly carefree adventurer, a hired mercenary, a devilish rogue, an unconquerable lover. Yet she could not be so wrong about him; she could not be!

  Alysa hurried to Giselde’s hut and was ecstatic to find the woman home. “I do not have much time, Granmannie, so I must speak swiftly. I know you will think me shameless and wicked, but I must tell you the all of it for you to understand and advise me.”

  Alysa placed the rock on the table as she revealed everything about Gavin, Moran, and her actions. She left no thought, feeling, deed, or word unspoken. Winded after her quickly spoken revelation, she remarked sadly, “After Baltair told me about the Vikings wanting to restore the royal bloodline, I feared Gavin might be a Viking warrior who was after me. Why did you not stress this danger to me?”

  Giselde stroked Alysa’s arm and replied, “It was long ago, and I believe they do not know about you or have forgotten about you. If the Jutes were aware of you, they would have come after you by now. I have heard tales of this golden-haired warrior you speak of. His raids are strange, like clever tricks to fool the brigands. I think he is trying to help you by pretending to be one of them. Perhaps he feared if you knew about his return, you might be in danger, and that is why he avoided you.”

  “But you warned me of a sunny-haired man with green eyes, and Gavin has both,” Alysa argued. “All of your warnings fit him.”

  “I have had more dreams since then, my child. The warning was about Moran, but his hair changed over the years, as did his heart. Moran is evil, Alysa; never surrender to him. The runes tell me Sir Kelton’s death was not an accident, and others are in peril.”

  Giselde had decided that there were things Alysa could not be told now and things she should never be told. The old woman had to watch her words carefully, and guard against slips. “In my recent dreams I saw a warrior at your side, one who can help you, one you can win if you heed my warnings.”

  “You really believe I can trust Gavin?” Alysa asked.

  “You can, but you must step aside for now or death and destruction will result. You must not interfere with or hinder or question him. The forces of Good say to trust him, and you must not intrude. To do so will endanger both of you.”

  “Why did you say I could win him? We are too mismatched.”

  Giselde said, “If your love is true, he can be yours.”

  “But how, Granmannie? He is a warrior and I am a princess.”

  “The forces of Good will find a way to make him worthy of you. Return to the castle and remain there until King Bardwyn arrives. What of your father? Are the new herbs strong enough to help him?”

  “I gave them to Leitis this morning. She will begin using them today. Father seemed to be doing so well, but he collapsed after the knighting ceremony. With so much happening at the castle Friday and Saturday, I did not have a chance to give them to her privately. I must go now, or they will come looking for me. Thank you for helping me, Granmannie. I love you. I will see you again soon.”

  Giselde embraced her tightly. “I love you, too, my little Alysa. When this evil is conquered, perhaps I can return to the castle and become your teacher again, if you wish it so.”

  Alysa hugged Giselde and replied joyfully, “Oh, yes, Granmannie, I wish it so.”

  “Place these roses in your hiding spot, and the warrior will understand you love him.”

  Alysa took the flowers and departed. She quickly ran to the tree, placed them inside the hole, and returned to where the men were waiting nervously. “I am sorry I took so long, Squire Teague, but I feel wonderful now. Shall we race back to the castle?” she laughingly teased the men, who merrily accepted the challenge.

  Princess Isobail answered Alysa’s knock at her father’s chamber door. “May I see Father this morning, Isobail? I picked these flowers for him while I was out riding. I worry so about him.”

  “I am sorry, Alysa, but he can see no one,” Isobail replied. “I will place the flowers near his bed and tell him they are from you if he awakens. You may peek inside, if you wish.”

  Knowing her stepmother would not have made such an offer unless Alric was sleeping and looking terrible, Alysa shook her head. “I hate to see him like this. Can we do nothing to help him?”

  Isobail sighed heavily before answering. “I have summoned every healer I know, Alysa, and Earnon has tried every potion and herb he has in his collection. Nothing has cured my Alric, or even helped him. I have tried all remedies and followed every suggestion I have received, however foolish it sounded. If you can find another healer or know of another restorative to try, send for him or use it today. I am desperate to have my husband well again, to have him as he used to be. Please, try anyone or anything you believe will work.”

  At those words, Alysa knew her father’s condition was hopeless, at least for now. Once her grandfather arrived, the king would find someone to heal his son. “I know of nothing and no one you have not tried, Isobail. His life is in the hands of the gods. We are helpless.”

  “You must not spend all your energy worrying over Alric. Your father would not want you to be so depressed and listless. You are young, vital, and beautiful. Have you given a suitor any thought?”

  Alysa was thrilled by the unexpected blush that colored her cheeks brightly. “I—We—Your son asked… to court me,” she stammered effectively, hoping to appear smitten by Moran. “I told him I would make no decision until… he could return and woo me. While you were gone, we spent most of our time together. He has changed much since childhood. He is no longer the mischievous boy who pulled my hair and teased me unmercifully. Does this displease you? Should I not… consider Prince Moran? I told him it might not be proper, but he is so…” She lowered her eyes and blushed again. “He said we were not truly kin.”

  “Is there no one else who catches your eye?”

  Alysa smiled dreamily. “Who could compete with Moran? I mean… Moran asked me to see no one else while. I was considering him. If you think it best to compare him with others, summon anyone proper to address me.”

  Isobail smiled and teased, “But, you do not wish to be courted by others, do you, Alysa?”

  “I do not want to sound vain, but I can think of no other man who is a perfect choice for me. Everything seemed to go so smoothly between us. Moran is handsome, charming, and smart… and romantic.” She cleverly hurried on after the last word, “And our ranks are matched. When he approached me, I was surprised. I had thought of him as my brother, a naughty one at times,” she added, appearing to smile at some private joke. “But he is a man now, a very—” Alysa stopped abruptly, as if she’d been about to reveal too much of her feelings. She praised herself for her convincing performance, and delighted in her newly acquired power to blush on demand.

  “This news is most unexpected, Alysa, but you and Moran are right. Who could be more perfectly matched than Princess Alysa and Prince Moran? I will give you two lovers time to discover each other and to enjoy this newfound attraction. I’ll summon him home as soon as it is wise, but I fear that cannot be for several weeks.”

  “Moran explained his duty to me before he left, and I understand. Perhaps Father will recover before Moran’s return. It would distress him not to be the one to approve of this match and announce it.” She inquired hesitantly, “Could you ask Earnon to study his books again and see if there is some cure he has overlooked? We have never gotten along, but would it help if I implored him to try again?”

  “I will speak with him for you. He is skilled in such matters, but sometimes nothing and no one can cure an illness. I am glad you have accepted your duty, Alysa, and I am glad
you are leaning toward my son.”

  Alysa laughed and said, “I doubt Moran would let me refuse his quest. He can be most persuasive. When he reasoned with me, it all seemed so logical that I wondered why I had not grasped it before. He is a rare person. He charms everyone he meets.”

  Isobail gazed at Alysa’s innocent face and believed she was sincere. She asked herself if true love was responsible for the change in Alysa or if Moran had used some bewitching power on her that he did not know he possessed. Feeling victorious, she smiled and replied, “Yea, Moran is quite charming. Now, Alysa, I am extremely tired. I think I shall take a hot bath, a goblet of heady wine, and a long nap with your father.”

  “Do you wish me to summon Ceit for you?” Alysa offered politely.

  “That would be most kind, Alysa. Thank you.” Alysa left the room and located Isobail’s servant. She sweetly passed along Isobail’s orders and returned to her private chamber, then paced to relieve her tension and anger. Her father was still cut off from her by Isobail’s presence, but she had won a great victory today. If she was not mistaken, she had duped her stepmother completely.

  Gavin completed another raid and turned the bounty over to Skane. Later he and his men would secretly retake the goods and return them, as promised. Aching for news from his love, he went to the tree. He could hardly contain his joy when he found the two roses snuggled together in the damp hole. He closed his eyes and smelled them, then continued his journey to Giselde’s. He found her waiting for him, grinning playfully.

  “She left the roses for you?” the woman asked.

  Gavin chuckled happily and nodded. “I have never seen any this color.”

  “That is because they are magical flowers, enchanted ones.”

  “Such things are foolish, Giselde, only tricks.”

  The old woman frowned. “Tricks? How naive you are, Prince Gavin. Do you believe in nothing except what you can see and do yourself? Do you say the incantations lie? You walk on dangerous ground. Your ridicule will drive Alysa away.”

  “I did not mean to insult you, Giselde,” he apologized. “I do not claim to know everything; only a fool does. But it is hard for me to accept superstition and magic. I have been taught to depend on my instincts and my wits.”

  They sat down at the table. Giselde handed him an unusual red flower and said, “Tell me what its smell reminds you of, Prince Gavin.”

  To humor the old woman, Gavin obeyed, and passed out instantly. Giselde reached across the small table and caught his head before it crashed to the hard wood. “Sleep a while, little prince,” she murmured. She unfastened his leather collar and opened the harnesslike contrivance to his waist. She studied the royal tattoo, then used one liquid to remove it and another to stain the pale area to match Gavin’s tanned flesh. She refastened his collar and straightened the bands and straps connected to it and his belt. Carefully she painted the same blue design in her palm. “Lift the flower and awaken to answer my question,” she commanded, and Gavin obeyed without realizing he had been dazed for a time.

  “Nay, Prince Gavin, it is the smell of doubt,” she said. She quickly placed her hand against the wide leather strip over his heart. “I shall remove your dangerous disbelief by removing the symbol for it.” She chanted incoherently, then held her palm before his face.

  Gavin stared at the tattoo there, then yanked his collar loose to gape at his bare chest, finding only tanned flesh. “This is impossible! Nothing can remove such a mark. What trick is this?”

  “It is no trick!” Giselde crushed the red flower in her grasp, then washed her hand in a basin of water. “You must forgive me for acting so rashly,” she said, “but when you scorned such powers, I had to prove you wrong and to open your eyes.” And also, she thought, it would hide Gavin’s true identity were he to be captured and disrobed.

  Gavin touched his chest and realized the tattoo was truly gone. He looked at Giselde with intrigue and awe. “I have never believed in such things before. How are they possible?”

  “I only use my skills and knowledge for Good. But others do not; others use theirs for Evil. I warned you of such forces, but you doubted me and their existence. Sir Kelton was slain by Evil, and others will be too. Alysa is protected against it by what is called a fith-fath spell. With it, she cannot be slain, but she can be harmed. As a powerful spell can be used only once, I could not place one over you. That is why I gave you the amulet, which you are not wearing. There is an evil curse on Prince Alric; that is why he cannot heal, no matter what anyone does for him. I did not tell you this before because you are a doubter. You would have thought me mad and not taken me seriously. Wear the amulet, Gavin, or you will find yourself in terrible danger.”

  Gavin said, “Do not worry about the tattoo. Perhaps it is good that you removed it. This way no one can see it by accident. When I return home, it can be replaced. Whether I believe as you do or not, I will wear the amulet,” he relented.

  “Many things come to me in dreams, Prince Gavin. I saw Alysa far away and in great danger. I saw you in a dark place, but you were not trapped there. I saw you save the life of the man you once viewed as your rival. I saw many fires and much suffering. I saw you and Alysa fleeing the evil of Isobail together; you branded as a wolf-shead and she as a traitor. I saw the death of Prince Alric, and my own.”

  “They are but dreams, Giselde; do not fear them.”

  Giselde looked into his worried eyes and argued, “Nay, Hawk of Cumbria, they are warnings. As each one takes place, you will come to trust me more and more. You will beg me to use my powers to aid you, by then other powers will be stronger than mine. Our victory will depend on you, and you will question your instincts, prowess, wits, and skills.”

  A strange feeling raced over his flesh, and he did not debate her again. “I sent Keegan with another message. If King Bardwyn and his people can accept my charges against Isobail without physical proof, they should arrive soon and end this conflict. Then I will claim Alysa for my wife.”

  “He will believe you when the messages reach him, but all I told you must happen before he arrives. You will see, and believe.”

  After leaving Giselde’s hut, Gavin called Alysa’s image to mind. She was not lost to him, and never would be. She knew he loved her and they would be together somehow.

  It was after the evening repast when Leitis found a moment to speak privately with Alysa. The head servant hated to impart such dire news, but knew she must. “The herbs you gave me for your father are bad, Alysa— evil, harmful ones,” she said. She did not realize the two pouches Alysa had given her contained different herbs, so she had used some from Giselde’s first bag.

  “What do you mean?” Alysa asked incredulously.

  “I have given your father nothing but nourishing food for a long time. When you asked me to give Prince Alric the healing herbs, I was afraid to do so without trying them on others first. I did, Alysa. Each one took violently ill within a short time. I burned them afterwards. Beware of the person who tricked you with them,” Leitis warned.

  Alarmed, Alysa protested, “That cannot be, Leitis. I trust the one who gave them to me, trust her with my life.”

  “There is no mistake, Alysa. I tested them on several people to make certain I was not wrong before coming to you. All are sick like the prince. I swear it on my life and honor,” she vowed.

  The distraught princess knew the woman was telling the truth, and what it meant. “Calm yourself, dear Leitis,” Alysa said. “I believe you. You were right to destroy them. Do as before and give him nothing but good and nourishing food. Tell no one about this trouble. I am sure it is a mistake.”

  The moment she was alone, Alysa sank to her bed and cried. She could not forget how eager Giselde had been for her father to get the herbs. On each visit, the woman had asked her about them and Alric’s condition, almost insisting the herbs be used. Alysa’s troubled mind filled with suspicions. She did not believe that Giselde was partnered with Isobail, but she suspected the old woman want
ed her father dead. Perhaps Granmannie held Prince Alric responsible for Catriona’s death and for her—Her what? Alysa mused. Banishment? Terrified flight? Perhaps Giselde wanted Alric dead and Alysa to become ruler so Granmannie could return to the life she had once enjoyed here in this castle.

  Alysa knew there was no way she could leave the castle walls again today, especially this late in the day. She must not condemn the woman who was so special to her without delving thoroughly into this alarming matter. First, there was the irresistible, mysterious Gavin who tormented her; now, there was her cherished Granmannie. Was this evil invading everyone? Would it eventually consume her too?

  So many dead. So many doubts and fears. So much treachery and deceit. The past was clouded. The present was shadowed. The future looked bleak and dark. If only Baltair would return…

  The next morning Isobail summoned Earnon to her chamber. Imperially she gestured him to her side and complained about the defiant bandit chieftain.

  “There is but one way to prevent all dissension and defiance,” the learned man advised, wanting to appear to cooperate. “It is a special ritual which grants you total power. The ‘principal man of your blood must die.’ He must be sacrificed on Lugnassad.”

  “Are you mad? Kill my own son, my only son! Lugnassad is a Druid belief, a ceremony of the dead on the first of August. What do you know of such forbidden rites?” she demanded.

  “I know that only through that ritual can you become all powerful,” Earnon vowed, knowing the date was over a month away and Isobail would never kill Moran. “You can understand why I have never mentioned it before. If it is done properly, nothing could ever harm you and no one could disobey you. You would control everyone’s will.”

  Earnon could not believe Isobail’s next question, and it panicked him. “What do you mean by ‘done properly’?”