by Sherry Ewing
The door to the keep burst open, and its sound echoed off the walls, drawing attention from the inhabitants within. Curses were shouted, followed by several grunts, afore a body was thrown in through the entrance. Several knights entered and grabbed at the now unconscious man, who lay sprawled upon the floor. As the knights hauled him to his feet, the servants turned back to their business of tidying the castle for the king’s pleasure. ’Twas apparent they were used to such scenes as this.
The leader of the king’s men strolled through the portal and looked upon his prisoner with a sneer. “Let us move this Irish scum down to the dungeon. Perhaps some time in his new quarters will remind this insolent pig to whom his allegiance is required and whom he must serve.”
His words must have roused the man as he again began to attempt to fight his way to freedom. The prisoner’s fists connected several times, amidst complaints from those trying to move him across the floor.
“Hail, Danior,” Riorden called out as he made his way towards the ongoing scuffle.
“Damnation! What brings you here to Bamburgh?”
“Perhaps you are in need of assistance?” Riorden asked, with a smirk. He proceeded to cuff the outlaw on the chin and watched in satisfaction as the insensible man’s head dropped back down to his chest.
“I was more than capable of handling the situation,” Danior exclaimed, obviously annoyed at Riorden’s interference. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword to make his point.
Riorden laughed and put up his hands in mock surrender. “Do not take offense, mon ami. I but needed to release some pent up frustration. There are strange goings on here about the castle grounds.”
The king’s knights began making their way below the keep, and Riorden followed. They went down several flights of stairs still dragging the cumbersome outlaw, none too gently. Torches lit the tunnel they passed through with an eerie glow, and they came to an open chamber. The king’s men took their prisoner to the far end of the room and began binding him with ropes attached high on the wall itself. The man fell to his knees, but did not rise. ’Twas evident he was in no condition to cause more trouble.
Riorden came to the man and pulled his head up by the hair. Hatred flashed in the man’s eyes, but Riorden only gave a leer of satisfaction that another rebel against the king had been captured. He let go of the man’s hair and returned his attention to those who still stood afore him.
“’Tis been some time since our paths have crossed, de Grey. I did not expect to see you here. Last I heard, you were still journeying in France,” Riorden commented dryly. “Did you tire of taking coins from the French as you won their tournaments?”
“’Twas time to come home, or so I thought. Nothing like good English soil beneath one’s feet, eh?” Danior smiled. “But what of you, Riorden? Tired of following in the glory of the Devil’s Dragon?”
“’Tis good you have been considered a friend for many years, or I would demand satisfaction in the lists.”
“I may insult you again, just so I can get a good workout for a change,” Danior guffawed. “I swear, I have not had a decent bit of training since last we met.”
Riorden chuckled and introduced Aiden and Patrick. “Perchance, whilst we await the king, I can accommodate such a request.”
Danior laughed at the thought of the challenge. “So good of you, old man.”
“I am not much older than you, Danior.”
“You still have a couple of years on me. Have you seen your brother?”
“Gavin? He is here?”
“Aye. I saw him but two days ago, when we split up to go in separate directions in search of our tricky scoundrel over there. He should be returning soon, for this is where we were to meet up again.
“Then I shall look forward to the reunion, as it has been many years since I last saw that troublemaking brother of mine.”
“He has not changed much over the years, I am afraid,” Danior replied, and slapped Riorden on the back. He then went to check the bonds to ensure a good solid knot had been tied about the criminal’s arms and ankles. “But let us continue this later. I must admit, I am in need of food and ale after my chase through the countryside these many days. King Henry can deal out punishment and pass judgment on this rebel, now that we have achieved our goal. He’s not going anywhere lest ’tis to have his neck stretched from a good solid English oak.”
They left the man hanging from the wall. Yet, Riorden hung back, whilst everyone strode through the tunnel towards the stairs leading back above to the Great Hall. He had a strange feeling come over him, and he turned to look into the gloomy interior of the room. A doorway off to the side of the tunnel caught his eye, and he felt compelled to move towards it. Opening the wooden door, he grasped his sword hilt in his palm and peered into the room.
He was none too happy by what he was witnessing. His ghostly vision was again afore him, but she was not alone. And these ghosts were garbed in the same oddly fashioned garments as she had been the other times he had encountered her, he noticed with apprehension. When he observed her being held in the arms of another, his jaw clenched. There was yet one more wraithlike figure of a woman, but he dismissed her, even though she appeared concerned for Katherine’s welfare. He came forward, pulling his sword from its scabbard. How dare that swine touch a lady in such a manner?
“Katherine,” he called out, but ’twas obvious none could hear him. How was he to defend her honor, if drawing his sword did nothing more than to cause the man to swat at it as if shooing away a bug?
Jealousy swam afore his eyes when the male phantom began to lower Katherine to the ground. The other woman kept calling her Katie and took something out of the bag she carried. ’Twas some kind of parchment, although he had never seen the like afore. She began fanning it in front of Katherine’s face, seemingly to revive her.
He knelt down beside her and saw she yet lived…well…lived being a figurative word, since she was naturally only a spirit. He was uneasy when the woman on the other side of Katherine looked up and gazed at him most intently. She gave him a broad smile and a bold wink. It was such an unexpected gesture that it startled him. But then he returned his attention to the woman of his dreams, whose eyes began to flutter open.
He was so very close to her. As she turned to gaze upon him, he saw the beauty of her soul within the blue-green of her eyes. The smile she gave him lit up her whole face again when she recognized him. He could do nothing more than return her stare, for within the depths of those beautiful eyes, he beheld all the love one person could possibly hold for another. Her gaze pierced and entrapped his weary, ice cold heart. He stood and stumbled back from the intensity of what he had just witnessed, feeling as if he had just been burned. God’s blood...can this beautiful ghost be in love with me?
She raised her outstretched hand towards him. “Riorden…” Her hushed tone was almost like a gentle caress.
He heard his name, this time as it reached his ears, and was pleasantly surprised to hear the loveliness of her voice out loud and not inside his head. Yet, he could not hide his shock to hear his name uttered by a specter, by a waif not of this world, no matter how seductive her tone. So, he did the only sensible thing he could do. He fled. Riorden knew that if he stayed, he would lose what little he had left of his mind, or else be consumed by the same burning passion that surely would lead him to want what, any sane person must realize, would be an unattainable situation throughout all time.
Chapter 8
Katie…Katie…come on, sis. Wake up!”
Katherine heard her name being called and felt a cool breeze. She swatted at whatever was annoying her so close to her face.
As she opened her eyes, she saw Emily hovering over her, along with Jewels, Brie, and Simon. Her gaze canvassed the room, but he was gone…again. “Oh God…Riorden,” she whispered, and heard how her voice cracked in grief from his leaving.
She tried to rise and felt Emily’s hands take a hold of her for support. She was sure she would
never have been able to stand otherwise.
“Emily,” she cried, turning her tear filled eyes toward her friend. “He was here. I swear it.”
“I know,” she replied with a faint smile. “I saw him, too.”
“You did?”
“Yes, sis. I did. I called Juliana and Briana to come right away once you fainted.”
“I thought I was losing it,” Katherine said, once more using Simon’s hankie.
“You actually saw a real ghost?” Brie exclaimed excitedly, as she jumped up and down. “What did he look like? Was he wearing a sword? Did he say anything? Do you think he saw you too?
“Do you think you frightened him?” Her tone changed to one of concern. “Were you scared? Is that why you passed out?”
Juliana came and put a comforting hand on Brie’s shoulder. “Not now, Brianna,” she said, trying to calm the enthusiastic girl.
“Really, Jewels? They just saw an actual ghost, and you want me to be quiet? This could so work in my storyline,” Brianna replied sheepishly. “So spill the beans, sissy…what did your ghost look like?”
Katherine walked but a few steps until she stood again before the portrait and pointed wordlessly to the canvas.
“Oh my!” Juliana and Brianna gasped simultaneously as they stood next to Katherine.
“He’s the one who has been haunting my dreams,” Katherine said with a heavy sigh.
“You’ve got to me kidding me?” Juliana gave her a look that reminded her of a deer staring into a car’s headlights.
Katherine only shrugged. “Really…that’s him.”
“Pretty spectacular, isn’t he?” Emily suggested. “It’s no small wonder she’s fallen in love with him. He’s so magnificently handsome, in a roguish kind of way, that is. I should probably tell you that I think I spooked the hell out of him when I winked at him.”
“Emily, how could you?” Katherine yelled in frustration.
“Well…I just couldn’t help myself. You should have seen the way he looked at you,” she said to Katherine, before turning her eyes on Simon. “You, on the other hand, I think he wanted to run through with his sword. I don’t believe he liked you touching her.”
“I think I need a drink,” Simon gasped with a wavering, animated voice as he took another handkerchief from his jacket and wiped the sweat from his face. “I can’t believe, I now have two witnesses who have actually seen the Earl. It’s very exciting.”
“Maybe we all need a drink and to also get Katie some fresh air,” Juliana suggested.
Katherine continued to stare at the portrait. She felt so lost. “There’s nothing I need right now, except the one someone I can never have.”
Simon came forward and took Katherine’s hand. “Well, maybe we can help each other out. There’s a chamber upstairs we believe the Earl stayed in when he ventured to Bamburgh. Maybe, if he appears to you, you can give some credibility this is a fact. I must tell you, it’s a chamber off limits to the public, not that this small detail stopped you earlier,” Simon said with a smirk.
“I’m truly sorry,” Katherine began.
Simon waved his hands, dismissing her words. “Would you like to see it?”
At Katherine’s nod, they made their way back to the upper levels of the castle and through a doorway marked private. Confronted with another tower stairwell, Juliana this time assisted Katherine with the difficult ascent. They continued down several passageways until Simon came to a large oak door. Pulling out a pair of soft curator gloves from his jacket, he handed them to Katherine.
“If you wouldn’t mind putting these on,” he told her and put a key in the door’s lock. “Since we limit the time in this room, I’m sure you’ll understand if it’s only Katherine who enters. We’ll need to wait here.”
Katherine turned back, only to stare in fascination at Simon. “Who are you anyway?”
Simon broadened his smile, knowingly. “Last names Armstrong.”
Katherine faltered, only momentarily, with the realization that she was standing with a family member of the owner of Bamburgh. It explained much. With trembling hands, she opened the door and closed it behind her. As she stepped into the room, she could only wonder what fate had in store for her. It couldn’t be any crazier than falling completely and hopelessly in love with a ghost.
* * *
“Go sleep off the ale you have consumed, brother. I shall see you on the morrow,” Gavin laughed boisterously and nudged his brother’s shoulder with his own.
“I am not that deep into my cups that I cannot teach you a lesson or two in humility come the sunrise,” Riorden grumbled, rumpling his brother’s hair as he often had done in their youth.
Gavin laughed even louder. “I look forward then to the challenge. ’Tis truly good to see you, Riorden, and ‘tis been too long a time in its coming.”
Gavin turned to Aiden and put his arm around his shoulder as though they were long lost friends. “Come, Aiden. We shall continue to drink our fill, and you can tell me of the wilds of Scotland where your lineage lays. Is it really as fierce as the say?” Gavin questioned, and their voices dwindled down the passageway, away from Riorden’s hearing.
He placed his hand upon the latch to his chamber to open the door, but halted. He knew with every fiber of his being she was inside. He could feel her presence, as if she were waiting for his arrival. He opened the door, closing it behind him, and went to the hearth to rekindle the embers into a low flame. He exhaled slowly, more to get his thoughts together than to appear as if he could not handle a situation such as this. Truly, what was there really to be afraid of?
He turned and looked towards his bed. She stood there, touching one of the posts admiringly, just as he had seen her the first time but days ago. He had the pleasure of idly watching her, since it appeared she as yet did not know he was here. In truth, to his way of thinking, he had never seen a woman as lovely as she. Her beauty did not come from an outside appearance that may have appealed to him with other women in his past. Nay…hers came from the depths of her soul and from being good at heart.
His contemplation of her only intensified whilst she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. It appeared as if she was looking towards the heavens and the guardian angels above to at last come and claim her soul. He did not want to admit it, even unto himself, but he did not wish for her to leave as yet to join God, for with her nearness, he felt a soothing comfort fill him as never afore.
Riorden reached for a nearby pitcher of wine and poured some into a chalice. His nervousness must have shown, for he almost tipped over the now filled cup. It rattled upon the table and at last drew Katherine’s attention towards him. Her face transformed to one of pure radiance, and he felt he could stare into her glorious eyes for a lifetime, if the chance were given to them.
Riorden took a long drink of his wine before giving her a small bow. “Glad tidings to you this day, mademoiselle.”
Katherine nodded her head. “And may I wish you the same, Sir Knight.”
He watched her standing there, seeming to drink in the sheer sight of him, as he continued to take several deep sips from his chalice.
“You know, if you continue downing that in such a manner, you’re going to have a nasty hangover in the morning.”
He frowned at her strange words and took a deep breath. “I know not what you speak of, my lady,” he declared, watching her every move.
She rolled her eyes and gave him an impish grin that surprised him. Apparently, she must have realized her words confused him, for she touched her finger to her forehead and tapped it. “You’ll have a bad headache.”
“Your speech is passing strange,” Riorden commented. He put the cup back down on the table and placed his hands behind his back. Neither of them made any further comments whilst an awkward silence persisted between them. They only stared one unto the other. She, at last, came closer to stand afore him. He found that, for the life of him, he could not move away. Instead, he stood his ground, wondering what s
he would do next.
“You look so very real today,” she declared softly.
“As do you, Lady Katherine,” he said, giving her a small grin.
The smile she gave him in return was most serene. Even her eyes lit up at the reference to her name as it passed his lips. She reached up to touch him. Neither of them should have been surprised when her hand went right through him. She stepped back sadly and put her hands inside some odd fabric sewn into her hose.
Seeing her sorrow, he took a hesitant step towards her. Holding his hand palm up to her, he watched in fascination as she removed the white glove she had been wearing. She seemed uncertain, ’til she at last gave in to the impulse. Ever so slowly, she placed her hand but inches from his own. A tingling occurred in his palm, and from her expression, she must have felt it too, since she wrenched her hand back and rubbed her fingers together.
“What I would give to feel your heartbeat next to mine.” She gasped when the words left his mouth, afore he realized he had said them aloud. Once suggested, the words hovered in the room, as if to give them some semblance of hope, even as both realized ’twas obvious they could never be together. ’Twas too late to recant his hastily spoken words, but he would have done so, if only to lessen the hurt flashing momentarily in her eyes.
“I would cross time itself, if it were possible, just to find you, Riorden de Deveraux.”
“You know my name,” he drawled the obvious.
“Yes.”
“Who are you?” he asked solemnly.
Her face lit up again whilst she gazed upon his face. “I’m someone who loves you.”
