by kps
For a second her eyes were closed, as she said a prayer for the repose of his soul, for the peace of little Nicholas who had not the time to know his mother's love Shiona, the perfectly formed daughter of the dwarf, Gilliam, who served the court as jongleur, jester, acrobat, and mime, stood back, respecting her mistress's need for solitude. She had been part of Lady Mara's staff until Jenny had returned from the island and now she was an almost constant companion to her.
Shiona tilted her head to one side, puzzling over lady Mara's decision to keep her baby from this young, obviously maternal, woman. Her father had explained that it was not her place to question Lady Mara's wisdom, but such seemingly unnecessary grieving when the babe was well and thriving at the manor seemed cruel to his soft-hearted, golden-haired daughter. To separate a mother and child ... 'twas an inhumanity Shiona would expect of someone like Rodrigo, but not the kind and just Mara.
Shiona's sad reverie was interrupted now as Jenny rose from the graveside and brushed away a tear, then asked, "Do me a favor, Shiona dear, and gather fresh flowers for my room.
I ... I would like a quiet walk by myself for a while." With Shiona staring after her, Jenny took to the path that wound through the garden to the cliff and had soon disappeared among the trees that bordered the walk.
The scent of tropical blossoms surrounded Jenny; the flowering trees and shrubs were ablaze in a riot of colors, but they made no impression on her numbed senses. The mist that forever seemed to surround Beann Gowd'en was curling inland now as Jenny took her customary seat on a granite bench some ten yards from the cliff's edge and listened to the gentle roar of the waterfall that erupted forcefully from the mountainside almost three hundred feet below the peak. She had come to love that sound. It was constant and powerful, yet as much a prisoner of the mountain as she.
Suddenly there was a scream-a cry of terror that was sliced off abruptly-then another muffled cry in a voice Jenny recognized as Shiona's. In a second she was up and racing in the direction of the garden, nearly stumbling as she cut across a row of bushes. Breathlessly she arrived in a small clearing formed by a circle of amapola trees, to find her servant in the clutches of the guard Rodrigo had insisted accompany them. He had ripped the bodice of the young girl's kirtle and even as Jenny shouted furiously for him to stop, his hands were pawing at Shiona's exposed breasts.
"Let go of her!" Jenny screamed, and the mercenary, a bear of a man with a shaggy beard and broken, yellowed teeth, reluctantly released his captive, still leering as the girl stumbled back in shock, too dazed to cover the trembling, rose-tipped buds of her breasts. Then, suddenly aware, Shiona clutched at the tom material of her gown, racing for the protection of her lady.
"If you ever dare to touch one of my attendants again," Jenny warned, her head high as she stood her ground intrepidly against the man's towering, animal-like menace, "I will see that you are stripped of that which spurred you on to such a crude assault." Jenny was staring at him with such intense fury that Cuchillo, the guard, looked sullenly away. "You understand me," Jenny pressed, "if once more you try to take another woman, any woman, against her will, you will lose your manhood." Jenny held her arm protectively around Shiona's shoulders and, in a voice hardened by the girl's shame, she added, "And it will be done with a very dull knife, Cuchillo, and slowly!"
The threat struck home, but the mercenary refused to let Rodrigo's woman know it. With a show of cocky insolence, he shrugged his shoulders and swaggered off, swearing to himself that he would have revenge. No woman, not even Rodrigo's, could threaten him with gelding and get away with it!
When he was out of sight, Shiona fell upon her knees and kissed Jenny's hand. "I am in ye'r debt,
m'lady! What ye did ... 'twill ne'r be forgotten. If tha' brute had forced me, I would've died for shame!"
Jenny was embarrassed by the display of her attendant's appreciation. Pulling the girl to her feet, she dried her tears, then told her, "I recognize no debt, Shinoa, for if our circumstances had been turned about, you would have done the same for me."
"Oh, 'tis true, Lady Jennifer!" Shiona vowed, her expression full of devotion. "I'd have killed the scoundrel if he'd come near ye, but I couldna have, spoken wi' such fearless strength as ye." For a moment she wanted desperately to repay her mistress by revealing what she knew of Jenny's child, but her father's stern warning to remember her loyalty to Lady Mara kept her from speaking the knowledge. "If only I could … help ye from ye'r sorrow, I-"
"There's no way to lessen that, dear," Jenny said softly, drawing the scarf from her hair to drape it around Shiona's shoulders and afford her a bit more modesty when she returned to the castle. "Only time can heal such feelings ... and time moves slowly, ever so slowly." She had glanced off, her eyes glazed with a flicker of pain at the memories, but then her gaze came back to Shiona's face and she smiled, visibly shaking off the mood of despair. "Go to your room now and rest, child. I think Cuchillo will not dare to bother you again. And I will speak to my husband about controlling his ruffians; he has been far too lenient with them.
Go ... go on," she urged when Shiona seemed hesitant about leaving her alone. "I would still like some time to myself, and no one will bother me."
Until the girl had reached the safety of the postern gate, Jenny watched her, worried that Cuchillo might be lurking in the shadows of one of. the trees that lined the path. The basket filled with flowers lay where Shiona had dropped it, and Jenny retrieved it, hooking -it over her arm as she turned back along the path toward her secluded bench.
Would Rodrigo listen to her advice to control his men? This was not the first such attempt against a defenseless young girl. There had been others against the daughters of farmers and merchants, but to protest those rapes would have been a waste. The common people and their distresses were beneath the notice of a man of Rodrigo's stature; such had always been the case, even when he'd ruled his dukedom.
But Rodrigo had been considerate of her feelings since the loss of the baby; perhaps he would listen to her this time. Shiona had been gently bred, raised with the attention given to a lady of rank. Lady Mara had seen to it that she was always well-dressed and treated with respect. The girl was modest and sweet, a shy maiden whose life would have been ruined had Cuchillo been successful in his attempt to violate her. Surely even Rodrigo would understand Jenny's indignation over the attack.
Reaching the stone bench, Jenny laid the basket on it and strolled across the grass toward the cliff, her thoughts turning back to what Shiona had said about her sorrow. Her own answer had been true enough-there was no one who could ease the pain she felt. Jenny knew she was indulging in self-pity, but who, she brooded now, had more right to feel so totally abandoned and bereft of anything that made life worthwile? Dev was gone, and though she'd imagined seeing him at the island, that vision had only been an illusion. Lady Mara had assured her of the fact. And the baby, he, too, was gone, before she'd even had a chance to know him or cuddle his small body close.
Jenny looked at the ground that dropped off sharply only a yard or so from her feet. How easy it would be to walk forward and close her eyes, to let her body fall through the mist and join the waterfall in its escape from the mountain. It was a bother to rise in the mornings now and .know that the same empty pattern would fill her hours, until nightfall came and she tried to sleep and failed. Almost without being aware that she did so, Jenny took a step, then another toward the edge, then caught her breath as the clouds swirled around her and for a moment she saw the dizzying drop of some three thousand feet to the lush, emerald green floor of the forestland below.
Afterwards, Jenny was faced with the frightening idea that had she not been ,stopped, she might have taken those last few steps and killed herself. As she had stood there though, a hand closed firmly on her wrist, pulling her back to safety. In a daze, she had followed the seemingly disembodied hand to its owner's face, startled to see that it was the diminutive Gilliam whose grip was so powerful. She blinked her eyes, her curiosity a
wakened by his presence in the garden-amused that it should be so after she had come so close to abandoning interest in life.
Gilliam, whose compassion for others was far greater than many who were larger than he, chose to treat the lady's suicide attempt as carelessness and chided her instead for being so thoughtless as to wander near the dangerous cliffside. He released her hand only when she sank onto the bench and smiled. It was impossible to tell Gilliam's age, though in such close proximity Jenny noticed, for the first time, the fine lines radiating from his eloquent, dark eyes. She had never taken much notice of his antics at the court banquets, though she did recall now that his voice was sweet and clear when he entertained them with ballads.
Jenny returned the smile and moved to make room for him to sit next to her, patting the bench as she asked him to join her. Shocked by the idea of sitting next to his lady, Gilliam exclaimed, "I couldna do tha', m'lady!" He glanced around with a hint of a frown and added,
"Wha' if someon' saw us-wha' would they think!"
"They would think only that I'd invited a friend to sit and pass the lonely time with me,"
Jenny replied, insisting that he be seated. "Tell me, Gilliam, what angel directed your steps here?"
Gilliam reluctantly eased his body down to the bench, as if fearful that some righteous lightning bolt would strike him down for such a breach of etiquette. "'Twas nae angel, Lady Jennifer, but me own darlin' daughter, Shiona! She told her da' wha' a fate ye had saved her from, and I was come to thank ye for the same! 'Twas no small risk ye took, shieldin' the lass from one of ye'r husband's men, and I be of a mind to think tha' I can repay ye the kindness."
"I told Shiona there was no debt owed, Gilliam, but if there was one, it is settled now. You saved my life just now ... what better payment can there be?" Jenny dismissed his protests, asking that he repeat one of his witty tales for her. "I am in deep need of some lighthearted story, my friend. I ... dwell too often on things that can not be changed."
"But they can be, m'lady-tha's wha' I be tryin' to tell ye! Ye done a grand deed, savin' me only child and, turnabout, lowe ye a like favor." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Ye'r own wee one lives ....aye, 'tis true! The bairn is fostered to Meg, the daughter of the steward at Manor Loch Gowd. Do ye nae remember she was delivered the evenin' ye arrived? Nae?
Well, 'twas na' somethin' tha' would've been noteworthy to a lady such as ye, but she's got ye'r little one, and from all counts, he's hale and hearty."
Jenny stared at the man with an incredulous expression, her eyes stricken with pain and disbelief. There was no reason for Gilliam to hurt her by making up such a lie, but it could not be true; she wouldn't let herself believe that it could be. "How could such a mix-up have occurred? You are saying that Lady Mara-"
" 'Twas nae mix-up, and m'Lady Mara had wha' she thought were an excellent reason for pretendin' it was so." Now that he'd admitted part of the truth, Gilliam had the feeling he'd opened a Pandora's box, and he wasn't quite sure how much he could reveal without endangering Mara and the others. "I will take ye to the island after nightfall, Lady Jennifer, and any other questions will have to be answered by Mara herself. I've already told more'n I should have, but I couldna see ye'r grief continue."
"But why, Gilliam? Mara has been kind to me. I cannot understand why she would be responsible for the pain and heartache I-"
"Believe me, she thought it was for the best. She thought ... nae, 'tis not m'place to say more." Gilliam shook his head and glanced around again. "Have faith, m'lady, and ye'll see the boy and know the answers to ye'r questions this very night! Can ye slip away and meet me in the stables three hours 'fore midnight?" Jenny nodded; still confused and with a thousand questions plaguing her mind, she managed to sort out one that made sense. "Aye, ye'd be recognized in a second wi' out a disguise," Gilliam answered and thought a moment before he looked up with a grin. "I'll send Shiona to ye wi' an outfit tha'll make ye look like a lad ... or at least, if ye stay well back from the night, 'twill!"
The two spent a few minutes longer reviewing the plans to meet before Gilliam rose to return to the castle. If anyone came upon them talking together, it would be reported to Rodrigo. The jester kissed her hand before he left, reassuring her that she would know the answers to everything that night and warning her to keep her manner calm before Rodrigo, else he would guess that something had lifted her spirits. "We must keep a mask o'er our true feelings, m'lady, or risk discovery." In his case, the Laird would not hesitate to have him executed for such an undertaking.
Fortunately everything went well that night. When Jenny arrived at the stable entrance, Gilliam was ready with two saddled mounts and after a cursory glance, gave his approval of the disguise Jenny wore. The long, gartered hose he had borrowed from one of the squires covered her slender legs, and the leather jerkin that hung to mid-thigh was bulky enough, in the darkness, to hide the curves of her figure. He was surprised that the masses of her raven curls could be hidden so well by the hood that was attached to the linen shirt, but when he remarked on it, Jenny told him she'd cut quite a bit of length away before she could manage it.
Jenny stayed well out of the torchlight at the keep gate, holding the reins of the horses while Gilliam paused to joke with the guards, leaving them laughing as he joined her and mounted for the ride to the island. Once they were well away from the castle and had skirted the quiet streets of the town, Jenny asked what he'd told the guards to elicit such laughter.
"Why, I merely told them tha' the Laird's Lady had developed a towering passion for me and was ridin' out wi' me for a tryst beneath the stars!" Gilliam replied with a laugh of his own at the twist of truth he'd told.
Soon they were at the dock, and though the night was dark and close, a quarter moon was riding high in the dark sky, casting a wavering path of light that seemed to lead across the water to the island. Though his arms were short, Gilliam had the strength of an acrobat, and in the span of a quarter-hour had rowed the small boat to the dock at the island. Pale light flowed from several of the manor's windows and torches set on either side of the heavy mahogany door. The steward answered Gilliam's loud, demanding knock, staring beyond the light as he tried to discern who would be calling at such a late hour.
"We've. come to see the Lady Mara on most urgent business!" Gilliam stated grandly, trying to bluff his way past the stern-faced steward.
"I wouldna care if ye'd come to say the pretender's left our land," the man replied, barring the door with his body. "Ye know full well, Gilliam, tha' the lady's nae a young thing. She needs her rest, and I'll nae be riskin' the wrath 0' Lady Fiona by wakin' her grandam! Ye and ye'r friend, whoe'er tha' be, are welcome to a refreshment, but I canna do more than tha'!"
The man was about to tell them to go around to the servants' entrance in the back when a voice Jenny recognized as Fiona's called out in question to the steward. Gilliam took advantage of the man's momentary laxness to push past him, Jenny's hand in his. Fiona was standing at the bottom of the staircase, and her gray eyes widened in surprise at seeing Gilliam, then narrowed with open antagonism when Jenny swept back the hood that concealed her identity.
Fiona raised her head and smirked, "I was na' aware that anyone in Beann Gowd'en was givin' a masked ball, m'lady. Is there a logical reason for ye'r appearance, or do ye make it a habit of runnin' about in men's cIothin'?" She didn't wait for an answer but swept up the trailing hem of her apricot-colored gown and stepped from the landing, raising a brow as she added a particularly rude question, "Are ye so recovered from ye'r birthin' then, that ye've taken to ridin' out nights?"
Gilliam frowned. He'd never seen Fiona so openly catty, but then she'd not inherited her grandmother's nature. Still, she had no right or reason to treat the lady at his side with such caustic bluntness. He was about to intercede on Jenny's behalf when she raised her head and spoke clearly in her own defense.
"We've come to talk with your grandmother, Fiona, not you," Jenny snapped, dropping all pretense of cour
tesy. There was no longer any reason to hide a mutual antipathy. She smiled bitterly and added, "You're not competent to handle your own, misguided affairs, so Ido not expect you to help with my problems." Standing tall and proud, Jenny managed somehow to look more regal and authoritative in her man's clothing than Fiona in her gown of soft linen.
"See that Lady Mara is informed of my presence ... now."
Fiona's mouth dropped open at the audacity this black-haired trollop was showing, and her mouth pursed in anger. "I'll not be disturbin' her rest at this hour for the likes of ye," she said with a sniff of disdain and turned to the steward to see that Jenny was put out. "Dugal, see that this ... lady is tossed out! As for ye, Gilliam," she added, tapping her fingers impatiently on the banister, "I will see tha' yere 'properly rewarded', for ye'r disloyalty this night. I-"
"Ye'll do nary a thing for him!" an imperious voice disagreed from the top of the stairs, and everyone's attention was focused on Lady Mara as she glowered at her granddaughter. With one hand clutching the banister, she began to descend. "I willna have ye makin' foolish threats, lassie. Think before ye'r lips form words tha' ye canna recall!" At the bottom of the steps, she turned to Gilliam and apologized, then included Jenny in the soft smile she gave him. " 'Twas obviously somethin' distressin' that brought ye here at this hour, Jennifer, and I beg tha' ye ignore Fiona's rude manner 0' welcome!" She noted the sHffness of Jenny's expression, the lack of warmth that should have been there, and guessed at the reason for its absence.
"Fiona, dear, see to ye'r duties and take Gilliam to the kitchens for a wee bite while the Lady Jennifer and I discuss what is troublin' her." The look she leveled at her granddaughter told her she would not brook any defiance. When Fiona had sullenly obeyed, telling Gilliam to follow her in a voice that was less than courteous, Mara shook her head in dismay and looked up to order Dugal to bring a tray of refreshments to the great hall.
