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

by Lisa Shea

  She was doing her part. Her spinning was sought after by all in the keep. She knew she was a welcome addition to the household.

  Every evening Lord Bloodworth’s two brothers made an effort to draw her down to the main meal. And sometimes she even gave it a momentary thought. But she knew she needed her rest. She had to be up bright and early for the dawn’s opening of the gates.

  And each evening, at sunset, her gaze went east, always east, to where the sky turned as dark as a raven’s wing.

  *

  Movement.

  Alicia could scarce believe it at first. She knew every pattern of walk for townsfolk in a ten mile radius. Even the traveling tinkers and priests were familiar to her now. Autumn’s brisk winds had turned chill and the tradesmen had ceased calling, heading south to warmer climes in preparation for the coming snows. Alicia herself was in a thick wool cloak, only her slender fingers emerging as the spindle spun … spun … spun in its orbs. Much like her own life. Whirling in place. Making no forward motion.

  And there, on the edge of the meadow, there was a figure.

  A shadow. A faint apparition. Was he even human? She could see he was, even if his movement was slow and stilted.

  She drew to her feet.

  Roger was on watch today, and he looked over with fond gentleness. “Alicia, you know it isn’t him.”

  Alicia knew the odds. She had been mistaken far more times than she could count. In the early days every tinker, farmer, and passing knight drew her heart into rib-thudding activity. Ethelfleda would gently rein her in, keeping Alicia from running pell-mell into the stranger’s arms. And then Ethelfleda would hold Alicia while she sobbed away the anguish.

  But months had passed since those early days. Alicia had grown better at holding in her emotion. At waiting, fingers clenched in hope, until the stranger approached and then passed within the walls.

  But this time she was sure.

  She drew to her feet, putting her spinning down on the chair.

  Roger’s face creased in concern. “Alicia, please stay here with me until he reaches our gates. Not all travelers are innocent.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she assured Roger. “And besides, he looks as if he’s having trouble walking. I can lend him a shoulder to lean on.”

  Roger’s eyes held concern, but he nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on you, then, lass. You signal if you need help and we’ll come running.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she assured him, all attention on the distant figure.

  She began walking.

  She had not ventured far from the keep, but she knew this distance from the portcullis gate to the edge of the meadow quite well. She’d made the trip often, absolutely sure that a passing shepherd or a farmer in a cart was Dylan. Each time she had slumped, desolate, on realizing her mistake. The trudge back to the keep had seemed to take hours.

  This time would be different.

  A pair of swallows swooped down to greet her as her feet moved along the dirt lane. The grass had that crisp edge to it which spoke of an ending season. Even the clouds seemed darker than usual, as if autumn’s gleam had worn off.

  But ahead of her, the figure drew her in.

  He resolved into detail as she moved closer. His cloak was dark grey and quite worn. His boots were scuffed and mud-caked. His hair, long and shaggy, reached past his shoulders.

  His face …

  She drew in a breath.

  He had seen hardship in his life. There were burns along his skin. Even more on the hands and arms which helped him move with the support of a sturdy cane. By the hitch in one leg she wondered at what other injuries were hidden beneath his clothes.

  Her eyes drew up to his –

  She staggered to a stop.

  Dylan.

  Chapter 21

  Alicia’s world tilted into unreality and her heart flooded with joy. If this were a dream of some sort, she didn’t care. All that she cared about was that Dylan was before her, alive, alive, and she would do whatever it took to help him heal.

  She spread her arms –

  He put up a hand, looking past her to the keep walls in the distance. His voice was a croak. “Alicia, wait.”

  In the past she had known him to have the lyrical musicality of Wales. The warm richness of Provence. But now his voice held a different tone. One of deprivation and pain.

  She could barely breathe. “Dylan?”

  “They can’t know,” he warned her. “They can’t know I’m alive.”

  Every ounce of her body wanted to run forward to him, to wrap him in an embrace and never let him go. It took all of her self control to stay in place and look him over. “Oh, Dylan, what happened?”

  “Soon, soon,” he promised in a croak. “I will tell you everything soon. For now I am a simple beggar. I have come to plead for a corner by the fire as winter’s chill approaches. If we talk here for too long they will get suspicious.”

  He set into stumbling motion.

  Alicia found herself walking at his side, her mind still struggling to wrap itself around this new reality. “You … you are alive,” she whispered, half in awe. “You escaped the fire.”

  He gave a dry chuckle. “Escaped is not the word I would use,” he murmured. “Endured might be more appropriate.”

  Her voice was anguish. “But why didn’t you come home to me?”

  His slow shuffling pace was easy for her to keep up with. “At first, because I was too badly injured. It was weeks before I was even fully conscious of my surroundings and of the priests who had taken me in. Then, after that, because I wanted to make sure I was healed before I brought further danger to you.”

  She turned to him. “I would have gladly faced it.”

  His eyes held hers. “I know, my sweet. But I would not have asked you to face it alone.”

  Her throat closed up, and the only sound was their footfalls on the dusty road.

  Roger’s eyes were kind as the pair approached the main gate. “Welcome. It seems you’ve had a long road; you look like you haven’t eaten properly in months.”

  Dylan dipped his gaze. “Indeed, kind Sir, it has been an endless and rough journey. I would beg leave to find a spot by a fire and perhaps a crust of bread.”

  “You shall have it, and more,” agreed Roger. “You will find my Lord and Lady a welcoming pair.

  Roger’s eyes moved to Alicia. “And you, are you all right?”

  She nodded, forcing her gaze to hold the disappointment she knew he would expect to see. “You were right, as always, Roger. It is but the foolish hope of a loving heart that continues to seek for a man all know is dead.”

  “Dylan would have wanted you to move on and find joy,” commented Roger. “There are many men here who would gladly help to lift your spirits again.”

  Dylan’s shoulders stiffened.

  Alicia nodded. “Yes, I imagine so.”

  Roger’s voice dropped. “One such man is not far from you now.”

  She blushed. She knew Roger was referring to himself. He had made his attentions to her more marked over the past weeks, in his gentle manner. But all she could think of was the nearness of Dylan’s hand, the closeness of that soul who knew her so well.

  She was hoarse when she spoke. “I will see our new visitor into the keep. Have a good watch, Roger.”

  Roger turned to the twisted man before him. “And what would your name be, friend?”

  Dylan glanced at Alicia for a moment, and a ghost of a smile came to his lips.

  “Owen.”

  *

  Alicia was impressed with the ease in which Owen slipped into the environment of the keep. None questioned his arrival as she walked with him up the long, twisting slopes of streets toward the main keep. Indeed, the baker’s wife brought out an apple tart for them both, and the alewife presented them with fresh mugs of ale. When they reached the keep’s front doors, the guards waved them through, and soon they were stepping into the main hall. The room was busy with servants
carrying food and the noise of a well-earned meal.

  Lord Bloodworth’s voice boomed with approval. “Alicia! At last! You’ve come to join us for a meal. I knew the cold would finally stir you from your watch. And who is this with you?”

  Dylan shuffled forward. “My name is Owen, kind Sir. I would beg a corner and a crust for the night.”

  Lord Bloodworth expansively waved his hand. “You shall have it. For we practice Christian charity here.” His eyes came back to Alicia, and they lit up. “Ah, now I understand. You have found a lost kitten and finally have been drawn outside yourself. My dear wife said it might take something like that. Well, my child, you have certainly done your good deed. So come, come, sit with us. Let your new friend take his ease by the fire.”

  Alicia’s heart thumped in fervent pleading. Surely she could stay by Dylan’s side! But she could see in his glance that she should do as Lord Bloodworth requested. She had to do her part to show that Dylan was a stranger to her, a passing beggar, and no more.

  It took more strength than she knew she possessed to step away from Dylan, to move the short flight of steps up to the head table. A place was quickly set for her on Lady Bloodworth’s other side. It was so odd, sitting here, amongst so many people and noise. She had gotten quite used to her solitary outpost by the main gates.

  Lady Bloodworth leaned over. “Eat, eat, my child. I know the guards do their best to keep you fed, but surely their fare on the walls is not nearly as rich as this is. Try some venison.”

  For the first time in many months the meal seemed to take on flavor, and she found herself eating seconds, much to Lady Bloodworth’s amusement.

  She glanced over at her husband. “I do believe a kitten was just what we needed,” she teased.

  Lord Bloodworth gave off a warm laugh. “If that’s all it took, I would have brought in all the villages’ cats months ago.”

  Lady Bloodworth gave a small smile. “A kitten after a healthy seasoning of time to mourn,” she amended. “We seem to have hit just the right combination.”

  Alicia stole a glance over to where Dylan was curled up by the fire, his fading cloak pulled tightly around his form. He gnawed at the crust as if he hadn’t eaten well for weeks, and, for all she knew, he hadn’t.

  Resolve grew within her. Tonight, when the keep was asleep, she would find him.

  And, at last, she would learn the full story.

  Chapter 22

  The keep was silent.

  Alicia knew well the rhythms and patterns of the keep. She had spent many restless nights, unable to sleep, wandering its floors. But tonight she would have a different quest in mind.

  She slid from her bed and pulled her blue over-dress over the white shift she slept in. Then she moved to the door and eased it open. None would question her night-time wanderings – she had become quite known for them. But, still, she did not wish to bring any suspicion on Dylan. Not when he had been miraculously returned to her.

  She moved down the hall and took the spiral stairs with caution. There was always the chance that a servant was moving here or there on some errand. A guard could be passing through, early or late on making his rounds. But the main floor was quiet as she approached. Her eyes swept the neatly cleaned tables and the low embers in the fireplace –

  There.

  Her heart glowed, her feet skipped into motion - and then she was wrapped in his arms, pressing against him as if to reassure herself that he was real. He was thinner than she remembered, but the strength in those arms soaked into her.

  Her voice groaned out of her. “Oh, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, they told me you were dead.”

  “And so I would have been, if not for the traveling priest.”

  She looked up to him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  He drew her over to the nook at the far side of the fireplace, where they could sit without being easily seen. Once they were settled facing each other he took her hands. His voice was hoarse.

  “Alicia, I did not see your uncle or cousin this evening. Are they … are they all right?”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “They are fine. They stayed as long as they could, but at last I convinced Benet and Ethelfleda to return to Canterbury and to their shop. They arrived without incident and are doing well.”

  His brow eased. “I am glad for that. But why did you not go with them?”

  Her eyes shone into his, giving her answer.

  His breath left him, and he shook his head. “God’s teeth, Alicia. What you have endured for me. What you have gone through, thinking once again that I was slain …”

  She twined her fingers into his. “And I would do it yet again, to know that in the end we would be reunited. You know well how many soldiers fell during the Crusades. Countless other women would give all they had for the miracle I have been granted.”

  He quietly nodded. “This time, indeed, it was a miracle which brought me back to you.”

  Alicia’s gaze went from his bandaged face to the injured leg which was carefully tucked to one side. Her voice was hoarse as she asked the question which had repeated in her brain for every day since he had wheeled his horse and vanished.

  “What happened?”

  Dylan lowered his voice to a mere whisper. “When the four attackers gave off the chase, I knew I could not let them go. They would come back again, and again, determined to cause us harm. So I wheeled on them, even if it meant taking them all on myself. Then Lord Bloodworth sent Roger and five men to fight by my side. The odds seemed even, if not in our favor.”

  His eyes unfocused as he thought back to that dark night. “They took refuge in the abandoned barn. There was a low fire in the far corner – clearly a traveler of some sort had been sleeping there and was scared off by the commotion. The six of us rode in after Zachariah’s men and the fight was on. The whirling hooves and spinning bodies sent the fire’s coals into the dry hay, an oil lamp was knocked over, and the aging building became a pyre.”

  His eyes shadowed. “And still we fought.”

  Alicia held her breath. She had replayed the imagined scene of that battle over and over in her mind so many times that it was almost strange to hear it described out loud.

  “At last it was down to me, Roger, Zachariah, and Don. Ralph and the other combatants lay scattered around us, dead or mortally wounded. Us four left on our feet were all raked with injuries. We separated into pairs and the battle became even more fierce.”

  His gaze shadowed. “At last I found the advantage and ran Don through. As I turned, Roger was nearly disemboweled by Zachariah; he was speared straight through. Then a massive, flaming beam fell down from the roof, landing on Roger’s legs and separating the pair.” He shook his head. “I ran to Roger and pulled him free, carrying him over my shoulders through the door. I put him a distance away from the inferno, so he would be safe no matter what happened. Then I stood and turned. I strode back in to face Zachariah.”

  Alicia’s fingers twined into his.

  He held her gaze. “The room was glowing with waves of heat when I entered again. Hellish fires blazed on all sides. I saw a motion deeper within, and I raised my sword high, striding toward it –”

  He shook his head.

  “And then I remember nothing at all until a month later.”

  She stared at him. “How did you survive the fire?”

  “The priest who had been staying there, Father Mitchner, was watching through a window. He said that someone came up behind me and clubbed me. Someone in a soldier’s uniform. He couldn’t make out the face in the twisting shadows. Then the entire structure came down on us all. I was fortunate that I passed out and did not have to endure the pain which must have followed. But once he found a clear path through, he was able to get to me and drag me off to safety. He loaded me on his cart and took me the rest of the way to his monastery, where I was healed up, as much as they could manage.”

  Alicia looked at him in confusion. “But why wouldn’t he have taken Roger as well?”<
br />
  He gave a wry smile. “The priest had seen this, revealed when my clothes burned away.”

  He drew a cross out from beneath his worn robe.

  She stared at it, running a finger along it. She remembered that cross. She had spent her entire savings on it, when Dylan had made his vow to join the Albigensian Crusade. To think that he had carried it with him all this time …

  She folded in against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “So, you see, my love, you have saved me yet again.”

  Time passed … passed … and her heart eased.

  Dylan was alive.

  At last she drew back. “So the priest saw the cross – but that still doesn’t explain –”

  He nodded. “You see, the Father had seen me fighting on the side of the soldiers. But when I returned into the fray after saving Roger, the priest saw a man who appeared to be one of my own betray me. He had no way of knowing if I was in the right of if I deserved to be struck down. He prayed to God for a sign of what to do.”

  Alicia’s eyes shone in awareness. “And then he saw your cross.”

  Dylan ran a hand down her cheek. “Yes. He saw that I wore a cross. With that, he made his choice. He vowed that he would get me safe from harm and heal me. He was sure God had set him there for a reason.”

  Alicia nodded. “As well seems to be the case.” Her gaze shadowed. “But who was it who had turned on you? And why did he do it?”

  “I fervently hope it was not Roger,” murmured Dylan. “Did any others beside him survive that fire?”

  She shook her head. “Although we could not identify all the bodies. Yours, for example, was burned beyond all recognition.”

  He gently ran a hand along her cheek. “And yet you never lost hope.”

  She glowed with light. “Never.”

  He drew her in again.

  The world hung motionless.

  At last he reluctantly drew back. “Tomorrow you will return to Canterbury, to be with your uncle. I am sure Lord Bloodworth will provide guards to accompany you. And then I can set to work determining which family member is behind this treachery.”