Seeing a Ghost - a Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 13)

by Lisa Shea

  “The stew’s nearly ready,” she reported, standing to go peer in the pot bubbling over the fire in the corner.

  Benet moved to the shelves. “Ethelfleda, could you grab the spoons? I’ve got the bowls.”

  “Of course, father,” came the warm reply, and in a moment the table was set.

  Benet nudged his head. “Martinus, if you’ll grab the bottle of wine from beneath that stool over there?”

  Alicia lifted the ladle from its hook with a chuckle. “I thought you were saving that for a special occasion, Uncle.”

  Benet nodded. “Indeed, I was.” He selected four fresh glasses from the shelf behind him and put those out onto the table.

  Alicia carefully ladled the stew into the first bowl. “Oh? And what occasion are we celebrating?” She finished with the next three bowls, then returned the pot to the fire.

  Benet raised his glass in the air. “In the two months you’ve been here, today is the first day I’ve heard you laugh – really laugh.”

  Alicia’s cheeks flared with heat, and she dropped her eyes. Then she turned her gaze to Martinus.

  His eyes were full on her. He held his glass in the air, patient, as if the ascension could come and go and he would still wait there for her, as long as it took.

  She lifted her own glass, pressed it to his, and breathed.

  Chapter 6

  Alicia smiled as she settled into the pew at the cathedral with her uncle and cousin. Certainly one of the best parts of living in Canterbury was being able to attend service here. The nave, as always, was packed with faithful. Ever since Thomas Becket’s murder forty-four years ago the site had been a destination for pilgrims from all walks of life. Alicia was always impressed by the variety of dress and language comingling within these walls. She had made it a game to try to identify as many different nationalities as possible before the mass began.

  There, to the right. Surely that trio was from Egypt. Their luxurious robes were embroidered with rich blues and golds.

  And there, ahead. Perhaps Constantinople? How in the world did they create such stunning violet colors?

  She turned her head to the left – and blinked. It could not be her most dearest …

  He turned his gaze toward hers.

  No.

  A wave of bittersweet emotion swept through her.

  His eyes shadowed. He looked away, taking his seat alongside his two friends.

  Alicia flushed, drawing her eyes forward to the altar, to the statue of Mary which stood to its right. She put a hand on the cross at her chest.

  Holy Mary, please help me. I need a sign. Is it disloyal to give up all hope of Dylan returning? Or is it foolish to cling to this hope against all reason, against the advice all give to me? My uncle tells me to start fresh – but he, himself, seems content to stay true to his love for his departed wife. Is that the path for me?

  The priest’s voice called from the front of the room, shaking her from her thoughts, and she became lost in the majesty of the mass.

  *

  Alicia blinked as they came from the dimness of the cathedral out into the full sunlight of the summer afternoon. All around them parishioners were stretching, calling to friends, and dispersing to their afternoon tasks.

  Benet raised a hand, waving into the crowd. “Hey, there!”

  Martinus’s eyes turned to them, and Alicia’s heart hiccupped from the sharp stab of pain, the quick dart of a thorn when picking up a wild rose. She pushed down the emotion with fierce effort. Martinus paused, then nodded farewell to his two friends before coming over to join them. “Quite a mass,” he offered by way of greeting.

  Benet nodded. “I hear there’s not many like it in all of Christendom,” he responded. “Certainly it’s a far cry from our tiny services in Wales. And now it’s time for our afternoon tradition.”

  Martinus looked between the three with interest. “Oh? And what might that be?”

  “I insist that Sunday be a day of rest,” explained Benet. “No work and no customers. Ethelfleda and I go off to sing with a choir to share in the glory of God.”

  Ethelfleda beamed. “The director says I have the voice of an angel!”

  Benet tenderly stroked her hair. “That you do, my dearest.”

  Alicia chuckled. “While my voice tends to warble off-key.”

  Benet smiled at her. “We would still welcome you in our midst.”

  Alicia shook her head. “We all have our different talents, and I’m afraid singing is just not one of mine. I greatly enjoy my walks about the city. I’ve only been here a few months, after all, and I still have so much to learn about Canterbury.” Her hand fell to the sword at her hip. “I’ve never been bothered in any way, I enjoy the exercise, and the city is stunning. I want to soak in every corner of it. Every carved statue and stained glass window.”

  Benet patted her on the shoulder. “Then you should do that, if it brings you joy.” His eyes carefully considered Martinus for a moment, as if evaluating him. Then he nodded. “Martinus, perhaps you’d like her to show you around Canterbury for the day? I imagine by now she’d make an excellent tour guide.”

  Martinus’s eyes glowed, and he turned to look to Alicia. “I would be honored.”

  A flush swept through Alicia, and she found she could only nod.

  Benet smiled with satisfaction. “Then, Martinus, she is yours for the day. Take good care of her, for she is one of my two most precious possessions.”

  Martinus put his hand out to Alicia. “You have my word, Benet. She will be treated with the highest of respect.”

  Alicia put her hand into his, and the warmth which swept her encompassed her entire soul. She barely noticed as Benet and Ethelfleda slipped away, leaving them alone in the pulsing sea of humanity. All of Canterbury swirled around them, moving across the large square, but it could have been her and Martinus alone in a meadow, only a scattering of turquoise butterflies to keep them company.

  Martinus turned to her with eyes as deep as monastery wells, and his voice held a reverent hush. “Where would you like to begin?”

  Alicia smiled.

  The day drifted by in a kaleidoscope of lavender and teal, of freshly baked buns and crisp cups of mead. They laughed at the antics of a pair of three-year-old twins evading their mother in a busy market. They soaked in the fragrant aromas of a bakery. They explored the beautiful rings at a jeweler’s booth. They guessed at the origins of the myriad of accents they heard along their path – Moroccan, Sicilian, Indian, and more. It seemed people from all corners of the world descended on Canterbury to enjoy its treasures.

  At last the evening was blanketing the sky in crimson and maroon while they leaned on the edge of a bridge over a gently streaming river. They stared into the rich colors of the sunset, side by side, and Alicia could feel the warmth easing into her from where their bodies brushed. The day had been beyond any reckoning. The texture of the stone railing felt rough and real beneath her fingers, reminding her that this was no dream.

  Martinus stared off at the far horizon. His voice was low at her side, nearly lost in the clatter of oxen hooves and chatter of people passing back and forth behind them. “Today was spectacular. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  The sun shimmered as it sunk, now only a half-circle against the trees. “It is I who should thank you for –”

  Panic suddenly lurched through Alicia’s heart as the final glimmer of sun sparkled against the treetops like the burst of light on a diamond ring. “No!”

  She spun on her heel, driving hard against the bridge traffic, pushing wildly to get through to the other side. A beefy ox blocked her path, and she cried out in desperation, working her way to its head, then dashing in front of it. She barely heard the shout from the cart-driver as she got to the other side, pushed through a group of dusty pilgrims, and made it to the opposite railing of the bridge.

  This side was soaked in darkness, only the darkest blue and deepest indigo reflecting off the flow of the river here. Her heart p
ounded against her ribs as she clutched the stone, her eyes filling with tears.

  There was a movement at her side, and Martinus was there. His voice held concern. “Alicia?”

  Alicia welled with self-recrimination. “I’ve never forgotten. Not once in all these long seasons. Not once. Not until tonight.”

  There was a long pause, and when Martinus spoke his voice was hoarse. “Forgotten what?”

  Alicia stared into the darkness, into the distance which lay beyond. “When Dylan agreed to join the Crusades against the Cathars, two years ago, he and I made a vow. Every night at sunset, wherever we were, we would each look to the horizon. Him, to where the sun was setting, and me, to the place opposite. We would be joined in that moment. We would be gazing at each other. We would be holding fast to –”

  Her throat closed up.

  Martinus’s voice was a whisper. “To?”

  Alicia’s eyes welled with tears. “To our eternal love. A love which could never be broken.”

  Behind her, the light shimmered, flared, and then faded as the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

  She let out a shuddering breath, turning to Martinus. In the shadows his features had softened. He seemed a ghost of himself.

  She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s our family way, to cling to love when it has long since gone. But Dylan will always have a piece of my heart. And whether he is dead or not, there will always be a part of me that belongs to him.”

  Martinus raised a hand to her cheek, tenderly caressing it. “I would not expect any less,” he murmured. “And no man who deserves you now would ask any different. It is part of what makes you unique.”

  Alicia blinked in surprise, looking up into those deep wells. “You understand?”

  He nodded, his gaze wholly on her.

  There was a flapping noise, and from the darkness sailed a pair of soot-black ravens, their large wings driving them effortlessly through the air. They sailed along the river, arched up above the bridge, and then crossed to follow the sunset. The lingering oranges painted their wings with twisting flame.

  Martinus let out a breath, bringing his eyes back from the sight. “And I need to bring you safely home to Benet.” He put out a hand to her. “Come.”

  She folded her hand into his, and peace wrapped her in its ebony embrace.

  Chapter 7

  Alicia wearily blinked her eyes and looked to the window. It was barely dawn. She pulled her thick blankets over her shoulder, turning over to go back to sleep.

  Muffled voices sounded from the floor below.

  She sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding. Had it been a dream?

  More voices came, in a steady murmur. At least two men.

  At her side Ethelfleda gently snored, unaware of the potential for danger.

  Alicia carefully slid from the bed, reaching to pull a robe around her shift. The sword came out of its scabbard with the softest of hisses. She crept to her door, easing it carefully open. She moved across the hall to her uncle’s door and pressed it in.

  His bed was empty, neatly made.

  Baffled, she moved to the stairs and slowly stepped down them one by one. The voices were coming from the kitchen area. She reached the bottom and peered around the corner.

  Martinus and Benet were sitting opposite each other at the table, cups of mead before them, their faces serious. They were saying –

  Martinus suddenly turned and looked directly at her. “I think we have a listener.”

  She gasped, drawing up to standing. “I thought you were burglars! What is going on?”

  Benet gave a wry smile, waving her over. “Just having a chat is all, my dear. But as you’re up, why don’t you make us some of those delicious scrambled eggs with cheese.”

  Alicia looked between them in confusion, but neither seemed likely to explain further, so she laid her sword against the side wall. She stepped out into the small, fenced-in back yard and gathered up a trio of eggs from the back grasses. In short order she had three breakfasts laid out and was sitting alongside Martinus. The men praised her cooking, and commented on the gentle weather, but nothing was forthcoming about why Martinus was here.

  At last she tucked the final piece of egg into her mouth and turned to Martinus. “How is Simon’s wrist doing?”

  He nodded. “Much better, thank you. He feels he will be ready to travel by tomorrow.”

  A wave of panic swept through Alicia. She was not ready. Not yet. Not when her heart was finally beginning to mend. The words blurted from her before she could rein them in. “So soon?”

  Benet looked between them, nodding. “He and his friends have delayed long enough, Alicia. They have a duty to get to London.”

  Alicia’s heart fell. London was a full two days north – and once they left, would they ever return? This might be the last time she ever saw him.

  Her heart, already so sorely pressed, seemed on the verge of shattering completely.

  Benet’s eyes were watching her, and at last he nodded. “I was just telling Martinus here that I’m finding my old tools are not up to the detail of some of the new designs I’m working on. I’ve heard of a master blacksmith in London who is able to create the finer implements I need. I thought we might all take a trip up to there to see what my options were.”

  Time stood still. Alicia stared unbelieving at Benet. “All of us? Go to London?”

  He nodded, a smile on his lips. “Ethelfleda has never been, and she’s been asking to go since she could walk. She has a notion of jewel-encrusted kings and queens living there, I think. Now that you’re here to lend a hand with the trip, and those pilgrims from Scotland are planning to head out as well, it’ll make a merry two days.”

  Benet nudged his head. “And, of course, Martinus and his friends will be on the road as well. It could be a pleasant party.” He raised an eyebrow to Alicia. “Of course, that is, if you’re interested in going with us. You’re always welcome to stay here at the shop, if you’d rather.”

  Alicia turned her head to look at Martinus. She was caught by the depth of his gaze, by the rich emotions which swirled within. “I could go with you?”

  Martinus’s gaze held hers. “If you wish –”

  “Yes,” breathed Alicia, before either man could change his mind. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  *

  The rest of the day was a flurry of activity and preparations. A wagon had to be borrowed from the butcher, along with a sturdy ox. The grocer was enlisted to check in on the shop each day and ensure it was safely locked up. Ethelfleda’s laughter could be heard clear to the Cathedral, she was so delighted with the trip. Clothes were packed, food was boxed, and through it all Alicia’s heart sung.

  He was not leaving her.

  They would make the trip together. Two more days in his presence. She would savor them. Ethelfleda had taught her that – to be grateful for each new day. For what the world had to offer.

  The afternoon drifted into evening’s shadows. Alicia was striding back from the grocer’s with a bag of fresh pears for the journey when she spotted Martinus on the bridge, leaning against the rail, looking off into the sunset. She called out to him, waved a hand, and ran up to him with a bright smile.

  His deep gaze soaked into her very soul, and his voice was rough with emotion. “Oh, Alicia.”

  She pulled up before him, feeling his presence as a tangible force, one which drew her with all its might. “What is it?”

  He put a hand out to her cheek. “That is the first time you have looked on me without pain or sorrow.”

  The world hushed.

  The bag slipped from her hands, his fingers twined to the back of her neck, and then she was holding him, nestled deep within his embrace. It was like coming home again. His head was against her neck; his arms held her as if they would never let her go. The world around her shimmered, glowed, and then eased into soft shadows.

  At last they stepped back from each other, and she felt the separa
tion as a physical sensation. She reached out for his fingers, and he twined his into hers.

  He glanced to the darkening horizon opposite the sunset, and his eyes shadowed.

  She squeezed his fingers. “He will always have a part of my heart,” she murmured, “but my story will move forward. I think he would have wanted that.”

  He gave himself a shake and looked down into her eyes. “I think you are right,” he agreed. He stooped down to pick up the bag. “Now, let’s head home. You’ll want a good night’s sleep before we set out in the morning.”

  Alicia grinned up at him. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep a wink.”

  He smiled fondly at her, giving her hand a squeeze. “Then it’s lucky we have the ox cart, when you’re ready for that nap.”

  Alicia grinned. “That won’t be needed either!”

  Chapter 8

  Alicia yawned as she stretched awake. The smell of fresh straw was all around her, and her bed poked at her in several locations. She opened her eyes and blinked as the broad sky stretched all around her, dotted with puffy white clouds. Beneath her came a gentle rumble of motion.

  Martinus’s voice came, amused, from her side. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

  She looked up with a rueful smile to where he rode alongside the cart. “I guess I was tired after all.”

  She pushed herself to sitting, taking a look around. Simon and Tibault were riding ahead of them, Tibault talking up an animated storm, Simon listening in stolid silence. Benet munched on a carrot as he loosely held the reins of the ox which quietly plodded along the path. Ethelfleda sat at his side, her eyes wide with amazement, soaking in every new sight.

  Farmland stretched out on either side of the road, dotted occasionally with a large farmhouse or collection of smaller buildings.

  Alicia ran her fingers through her hair as she sat up. “How long did I sleep?”