Twice Upon a Soul

by Deborah R Stigall

  Her body now toasty and glowing, Taylor snuggled deeper into the chair. Her eyes falling to the corner where her bed no longer stood, Taylor frowned, turning in her chair to look to Zelda for an answer.

  In answer to her look of confusion, Zelda calmly explained, “Her has been findin’ her rest in the sick bed…here in the pantry. Her well enough now ta’ move ta’ her rooms.”

  A beating on the door caused Zelda to rush over and open it, admitting Quinlan with his arms heavily laden with damp logs to slowly dry by the fire. By the time Zelda had finished helping Quinlan stack the logs, Taylor had finished her brandy, washing the mug in the basin standing beside the hearth.

  Frowning as she realized what Taylor was doing and winding up for a scolding, Zelda was immediately silenced by Quinlan’s restraining hand against her arm. One curt nod quickly reminded Zelda of the Laird’s previous instructions before he had gone in search of Taylor in the woods. Under no circumstances was anyone to remind Taylor that she was the Laird’s wife or pressure her to warm to him in any way. If she couldn’t give herself to him willingly, he’d force himself to do without her at all.

  Drying off the mug and placing it on the shelf with the rest of its mates, Taylor turned to Zelda expectantly. “Now…you mentioned something about a bath?” The idea of a long hot bath was enticing, especially after being so cold. Taylor was quickly tiring of having to wash her body in sections at a time from a bowl beside her bed. She was sure that once she’d had an honest to goodness bath, life wouldn’t seem nearly so bleak.

  Gathering a folded cloth from the shelves to the side of the doorway, Zelda nodded and smiled, raising her hand to beckon Taylor to follow her. Glancing slyly at Quinlan as she left the pantry, Taylor felt another stab of disappointment as she discovered he was deeply engrossed in tending to the fire. As she turned to follow Zelda, she missed the sight of his pain filled eyes covertly watching her as she gathered up her snow-dampened skirts and padded from the room.

  ~*~

  Returning from leading Taylor to the bathing room, Zelda entered the pantry to find Quinlan searching frantically through the utensils organized along one wall.

  “Ye are looking for what m’Laird?” Zelda asked, her slanted eyebrows arched in surprise. Usually, whenever Quinlan was in need of something, he never hesitated asking Zelda to fetch it. He in no way considered her his servant or slave, she simply always insisted on fulfilling his every wish. Zelda had spent her entire life always caring for and meeting the needs of others. When she had found Quinlan abandoned and alone, she’d nursed him back to health and supported him in his quest to rejoin with his wife. She too was anxious to see the child of the woman she had served so faithfully in the past. The longer she’d taken care of Quinlan, the more she’d grown to love and respect him as the son she’d never had.

  “The blade…Zelda…my shaving blade…tell me ye’ve placed it somewhere else!” Touching the various hatchets and knives frantically, he wanted to ensure he’d not overlooked the instrument.

  Shaking her head in exasperation, Zelda shoved Quinlan impatiently to one side. “Why ‘tis hangin’ right here on the hearthstone where Zelda always places…” her voice softly fading away as her eyes fell upon the empty hook hanging bare above the shaving cup. Cocking her head to one side as she turned to look up into Quinlan’s troubled eyes, Zelda rubbed her pointed chin with one hand as she tried to recall the last time she’d seen it.

  “Zelda…was the blade there before Taylor came in from the wood?” Quinlan’s face was tense with worry, his hands flexing at his sides.

  “Aye…m’Laird,” Zelda answered, bobbing her head in agreement. “Zelda remembers ‘twas there for Zelda knew ye would be a wantin’ ta’ clean shave yer face before the meal.”

  “Taylor’s takin’ the blade ta’ end her life…I know it!” Quinlan sputtered. Running from the room and tearing down the hall, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t get to her in time. He was the one that had talked her into crossing. She’d have been perfectly safe had he left her to her own time. Better for her to be safe even if it wasn’t with him, then for her to be dead, her soul forever lost in the eternal darkness.

  Zelda scrambled after him, unable to keep up; but she knew exactly where he was headed. Her heart beating wildly from the fear rising within her breast, Zelda hoped Quinlan was wrong.

  Leaping up the stone stairs at the end of the hallway, Quinlan spanned the steps three at a time with his long powerful legs. Not pausing to knock against the wooden door closed to the chill of the hall, Quinlan nearly tore it from its ancient hinges, throwing open the door and rushing into the room.

  Steam from the heated water hung heavily in the air. Polished brass disks were completely fogged over where they stood leaning up against the stone walls. The room was dimly lit by huge yellow candles burning in the corners, perched upon great iron candlesticks resembling the many-tiered branches of a tree. Flames from the main fireplace flickered dancing shadows across the room, the leaping yellow tongues of the flames soothing and hypnotic within the hearth. In the center of the room was a huge stone enclosure, the blocks mortared tightly together forming a large pool. At evenly spaced intervals around the stone pool, several small hearths had been hollowed out. The small hearths were recessed back beneath the pool; hot coals from the hearths heating the stone enclosure and the water within it as well. The inside of the pool had been sanded until it was smooth; the stones polished to a velvety touch and seats hollowed out along the walls.

  The pool was filled with water by means of an ingenious invention. A great wooden cistern had been built and placed upon the roof, catching and holding the rain and the snow; the water kept from freezing by constantly tended fires. A leather sluice led from the cistern down to the pool, opened and closed by the pulling of a single lever.

  As Quinlan burst through the doorway, Taylor jumped, dropping the razor she held aloft in her hand. Quickly crouching with her chin to the water line, her eye widening with surprise, Taylor swallowed hard as she gazed up into Quinlan’s panic-stricken face.

  His face reddened with his emotions, his raven black hair falling loosely about his shoulders, Quinlan rushed to the side of the pool, reaching out to Taylor. “Ye mustna’ do it lass!” he cried, his blue eyes wide with fear. “Ye’ll be doomed ta’ forever wander in the darkness alone…please…this place isna’ that bad!”

  Closing her mouth as she arched her brows, Taylor felt along the bottom of the pool to retrieve the dropped razor. Placing it gently on the stone ledge to her side, she repositioned her backside into one of the polished seats as she glared up at Quinlan. “Do you mind telling me what you’re talking about…and while your at it…what you’re doing in here?” She crossed her arms demurely over her breasts, remaining submerged beneath the water.

  At that moment, Zelda burst into the room, clutching her chest as she gasped for breath. “Dinna do it! Her mustna’ do it! Her is loved here…” Zelda cried running to the edge of the tub and shinnying over it with her short scrawny legs. Splashing into the water, she quickly made her way over to Taylor, pulling at her arms to examine her wrists. When she could find no cuts or wounds there, Zelda quickly raised Taylor’s chin to examine her throat. Closing her eyes with relief, Zelda leaned back against the stones with a sigh. “She’s no done herself no harm m’Laird. Her is safe.”

  Finally, Taylor realized that Quinlan and Zelda thought she had meant to take her life. “I don’t know why you two thought I was trying to do myself in…but I can assure you, I’m too big a coward to do that,” Taylor drolly noted. “Besides,” she continued, her mouth crooked to one side in humorless smile, “I’d think you’d give me credit for having enough sense to find an easier way then drowning myself in the bathtub.”

  “Drowning yourself!” Quinlan nearly choked as the words exploded out of his throat. “Ye crazy wench…I thought ye meant ta’ slit yer wrists…ye had the blade in yer hand when I burst through the door!”

  At this r
evelation, Taylor couldn’t help herself. She shook her head in complete disbelief at Quinlan’s overwrought state. Sinking lower in the water, she leaned back, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as though it held all the answers to any question she’d ever asked.

  Eyes narrowing with aggravation, Zelda sternly latched onto Taylor’s chin, pulling her face close to her own. “Then what Her did with the razor? Why Her took it with Her to bathe?” Releasing Taylor’s chin with a jerk, Zelda crawled out of the water with disgust and wrung out her skirts upon the floor.

  Glancing first at Zelda then a little sheepishly at Quinlan, Taylor sighed as she stretched one milky white leg above the surface of the water. “I was shaving my legs,” she explained innocently. “The stubble was driving me nuts.”

  Quinlan and Zelda both stood staring open-mouthed in shock, unable to believe what Taylor had just said. “Why in the name of the Furies would ye want ta’ take the hair off yer legs?” Quinlan finally asked, sitting on the side of the stone tub as he dropped his head to his hands.

  “Well it feels better,” Taylor explained with impatience. Poking him in the back with her toe, she said, “Here…feel.”

  Glaring at Taylor with his jaw tightly clenched, Quinlan’s icy blue eyes narrowed. His nostrils flaring as he stared down at her face, he reminded Taylor of a cat sizing up its prey. “Dinna test me lass. If I run m’hand along yer leg…I damn sure willna’ stop there,” he replied coldly. He stood stiffly and walked to the door as he continued, “I’ll thank ye ta’ behave with a bit more propriety in the future if ye dinna want me warmin’ yer bed…and dinna scare the bloody hell out of us ever again.” Then he strode out into the hallway, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

  Watching Quinlan’s exit as she chewed her lip, Taylor dropped her head in dismay. Glancing up into Zelda’s frowning face, she weakly shrugged her bare shoulders. “I really didn’t mean to worry anyone…I never thought you’d think I was going to do something like that.” She slowly picked up the razor and handed it handle first toward Zelda.

  “Her said Her hated this place and would ne’er love the Laird. Her has been unhappy ever since Her learn Her canna’ go,” Zelda explained quietly as she took the blade from Taylor’s hand. “M’Laird and Zelda feared Her had discovered a way ta’ leave this place…for death is surely an escape.”

  Slowly stepping out of the pool and wrapping herself in the warmed cloth held by Zelda, Taylor shook her head slowly as she replied. “I’m sorry I frightened you, Zelda …I’m even sorry I frightened Quinlan as well.” With a sigh, she squeezed the water from her hair and moved closer to the hearth to dry.

  Patting Taylor gently on the back, she plucked anxiously at Taylor’s arm. “Follow Zelda,” she instructed with a slight smile as she led Taylor out of the bathing room.

  Wrapping the plush wooly cloth tightly around her body, Taylor padded barefooted down the cold stone hallway. Zelda led the way, turning to hop nimbly up a short flight of stairs when they reached the end of the hall. Turning to wait for Taylor, she paused, her thin hand resting lightly on the elaborately wrought lever of the door. Eyes sparkling with excitement, Zelda patted one tiny foot impatiently as she waited for Taylor.

  Shivering in the drafty hallway, Taylor clutched the damp cloth to her chest. Pushing back a handful of wet hair from her face, she shivered as she frowned at Zelda. “Zelda, why are you suddenly in such a hurry? You’re usually so calm.”

  The hint of a smile tickling her lips, Zelda silently opened the door. “Zelda only wishes to see Her happy…and her reaction when Her again sees her bridal chamber.” Covering her mouth with her bony fingers, Zelda flinched as she remembered Quinlan’s strict instructions. No one was to remind Taylor she was his wife. Shrugging her shoulders, Zelda sighed. She just couldn’t seem to help it.

  Taylor was suddenly struck speechless as an eerie shiver of recognition hit her when she stepped inside the room. This was the bedroom chamber from her dream…the dream where she and Quinlan had… Taylor mentally shook herself, refusing to recall the passion.

  “What wrong?” Zelda asked, gently pushing Taylor closer to the warm fire in the hearth. When Taylor didn’t answer her at first, her purple eyes grew wide with concern.

  “I know this…place,” Taylor mumbled, remembering the huge fur covered platform in the corner of the room. The same candles were scattered everywhere, once again bathing the room in the soft yellow light of her dream. Filmy gauze material was draped on iron posts around the sleeping platform, creating an inviting nest.

  “Ahhh,” Zelda observed with a nod. “I tell'd Her the memories would soon be found.”

  “Memories?” Taylor asked quietly as she wandered slowly about the room. Ornate tapestries had been hung across the windows; vibrant banners decorated the walls. Wooden trunks and tall heavy wardrobes lined either side of the room. Two inviting benches had been fashioned out of logs. Long enough to recline on, the high backs and the seats had been padded and covered with furs. Running her hand along the back of one of the couches, Taylor suddenly had a fleeting memory of Quinlan laughing as he laid her back against the couch. Her eyes wide but sightless as she recalled this brief glimpse from the past, Taylor unconsciously placed her hand to her chest as she felt the quickening of her heartbeat.

  Quietly moving to Taylor’s side, Zelda gently touched her arm. “Her joining night was here with the Laird. ‘Twas here that Her consummated Her vows.”

  Gasping with a start, as she looked down at Zelda’s kind face, Taylor jerked her hand away from the couch as though she had been burnt. “But I thought we were supposedly joined in Scotland, before the Druids sent him away?”

  Shaking her head with a slight frown, Zelda led Taylor over to the other couch and motioned for her to sit. “Time has made the memory a mistake…legends often get facts in wrong order.” Zelda settled herself comfortably on the couch opposite Taylor and leaned forward as she continued. “The Laird save Her from murdering Druids by hiding her within the cairn among the standing stones. Laird dinna know the cairn would bring him or Her ta’ this place. Druids lied ta’ the Powers…tell'd the Furies Her had wished ta’ be sacrificed…tell'd the Furies Her had been raped by the evil Laird. Furies brought Her back ta’ the Druids…but the Magnus tell'd them the truth. Furies were angered greatly by the deception wrought by Druids…were also still angry at the Laird fer no’ tellin’ them of his great love for Her. ‘Tis not always easy for the Laird to defend himself. He much too proud. They were jealous that the Laird should choose ta’ make his vows ta’ the stars rather then ta’ the Three Divine Furies of all the worlds. Left him here ta’ exist forever until the time when Her soul could be healed and reborn to Her that sits before Zelda now. Her and Laird were joined in this land and loved ‘til the Furies mistakenly ripped Her away. The Laird has been awaitin’ Her return ever since…building the towers around this room ta’ be ready at the time of Her comin’.”

  As Zelda finished her story, one slight teardrop rolled down her pale green cheek at the memory of the years of her Laird’s suffering. Brushing it away impatiently, she jumped up from the couch and rushed over to one of the wardrobes. Her tiny form disappearing as she foraged into the depths, she finally emerged with both arms heavily laden with clothing for Taylor to don. “Her must dress now beside the fire. Zelda will return soon with night elixir for her to sleep.”

  Taylor held the heavy nightgown up to her bare skin, reveling in the softness of the thick fleecy cloth. Quickly slipping the gown over her head, she backed up to the fire, basking in its warmth. Pulling her damp hair over one shoulder, she combed her fingers through the tangled tresses, fanning out the layers to dry.

  Eyeing the room as she dried her hair, Taylor had to admit it was warmly inviting. Something about the painstaking care that had been taken in preparing the furnishings seemed to call out to her…almost welcoming her home.

  Lightly tapping on the heavy bedroom door, Zelda quickly entered without waiting for Taylor’s resp
onse. With a nod of her head, Zelda motioned for Taylor to sit on a low stool before the fire and handed her the small stone bowl filled with the bubbling elixir.

  Sniffing the contents, Taylor glanced up at Zelda. “Smells like blueberries….what exactly is this?”

  Shrugging her bony shoulders as she retrieved the hairbrush from the dressing table, Zelda gently began brushing through the damp strands of silken hair tumbling down Taylor’s back. “Nighttime elixir….will help Her to relax and enjoy her time upon the dream plane. Why Her always must ask Zelda what Her is about to drink?

  “Because I want to know….I need to know what I’m about to drink and how it’s going to affect me.” Taylor gingerly sipped at the liquid thickly swirling around in the bowl.

  “Her no trust Zelda?” The motherly sprite sniffed slightly, obviously a bit hurt by Taylor’s questions.

  “Of course I trust you…you’ve been nothing but kind ever since I arrived here.” Taylor quickly shook her head as if to physically fan away any misgivings Zelda might be having. “It’s just that there are so many new….strange things here…and I haven’t even begun to understand half of them.”

  Growing suddenly sleepy, Taylor vainly attempted to stifle a yawn as she slid the stone bowl on the low table beside the stool. Weaving back and forth as Zelda slowly brushed out her hair, she felt as though she were slowly hypnotizing herself into a thick fog.

  “Her should get into the bed now…before her travels any farther into dream-time.” Zelda gently helped Taylor rise from the stool and slowly led her to the inviting pile of pillows strewn upon the bed.

  Snuggling down into the feathery soft pillows, Taylor sleepily pulled the furs to her chin. Through half closed eyes, she watched Zelda blow out all the candles in the room, leaving only the dancing shadows from the fire in the hearth to play upon the walls. “Good night, Zelda.” Taylor murmured as the slight sprite quietly left the room.