The Quest for Gillian’s Heart

by The Quest for Gillian’s Heart (lit)

  "You like?" The vendor held a blue one out to her.

  "‘Tis pretty," she said.

  "You buy?"

  Gillian could see its practicality. Traveling as she would be doing, she’d need something for her things. After all, she couldn’t tote her chest. But she also could not see spending money for something she could make just as well. She was about to refuse when a voice behind her interrupted.

  "No, Ahmed, the bag shall be my gift."

  Gillian whirled around at the sound of Amir’s voice. She searched for Fjola and found her admiring silks at a nearby table.

  The dark stranger shoved the bag into her hands. "To apologize for my running you down," he said with a smile, and bent closer.

  "‘Tis done and forgotten," she told him. "I need no gift to soothe my feelings."

  She darted past him and onto Fjola. "We are leaving now." She grabbed the older woman’s arm.

  "Gillian, what...." She took one look over her shoulder. "Oh!"

  "Come...and say nothing of this to Andor. I will not have blood spilt over it."

  "But - "

  "I will not argue the point either." She weaved among the other people to put as much distance between her and her admirer.

  They reached the campsite winded. Afraid Andor would question their breathlessness, Gillian struggled for composure only to find him gone on business. Swearing Fjola to silence once more, the women parted for the privacy of their own tents.

  "Now what?" Gillian asked aloud. Almost at once the answer came to her. Seamus.

  She poked her head outside and saw him working near the ship. He did not hesitate when she beckoned him over, and Gillian felt guilt sneak in before him. She was about to make him a conspirator. If Andor ever discovered his part, there was no telling what he might do. Not because he helped Gillian leave, but because he betrayed Andor’s trust. The only solution seemed to take Seamus with her.

  "Aye, lass, what might I be doin’ fer ya."

  "I need you to carry out a task for me. Private. Something you must tell no one."

  Seamus scratched his ear and studied the ground. "Aye. I understand."

  "Good. I need you to see if you can get us passage for two to Ireland...quickly. Can you do that for me?"

  "Aye, but what of the cost?"

  "I will pay as we board and not a second before."

  "I’ll be seein’ what I can do."

  Gillian watched until he disappeared into the flow of people, then returned to her tent to make final preparations. After sorting through the sleeping skins, she selected the oldest one to fashion into a traveling bag. It was quick work, and by the time she had attached the rope handles, Seamus had returned.

  "Did you have luck?"

  "Aye," he said. "The last ship down the way. Five pieces of silver for both. Ya get yer meals. But it sails with the tide at sunset."

  She glanced toward the horizon. "‘Twill be enough time. Get your things and we will leave."

  Seamus blinked, as if by doing so he could better hear her.

  "Come on," she said. "We must leave before Andor returns."

  "Why? Things are not so bad fer us here. We’ve been treated good. We have now...especially fer ya. Why would ya want to be leavin’?"

  "I would rather be living half starved than to live with a man who cares naught for me."

  Seamus reeled back.

  "‘Tis true," Gillian said. "I should know."

  "Aye. Ya should," he said softly.

  "Are you coming or not?"

  His reply was quick. "Not...I have more with these people than I ever had with our own. I get respect. I’ll do nothin’ to lose it."

  Gillian pointed her chin at a defiant angle. "You will tell Andor?"

  "As soon as I can find him."

  "He will not care."

  "I guess we’ll be seein’ about that," he said, and walked away.

  Gillian hurried to pack her things. She was doing them both a favor. It was no time to let Andor’s pride get in the way.

  Andor smiled to himself as he made his way back to their campsite. It had been a good day. Every trader he had spoken to was receptive to the proposed route to Iceland. By the following summer, all should be established. That would give Icelanders a year to stockpile the materials to trade in return. Woolen goods would be their pride, or at least his own would be. The dark winter months would give Gillian and Freyda the time they needed to create their products. Both were skilled with a loom and a needle.

  He was also pleased with the purchases he had made at the end of his day. Hours spent searching for the perfect gift for Gillian had begun to frustrate him until he happened to spy a necklace with a small gold cross dangling from it. It had been buried within a pile of other more bulky jewelry. As he paid for it, he saw another treasure...a small trunk of books a vendor was using as a bench.

  Andor chuckled to himself when he recalled the old man’s puzzled expression as Andor made an offer for it. At first he thought Andor merely wanted the trunk. Anxious to make a living, the man had sold it then tried to empty it of the books. When Andor’s intentions were clear, the man shrugged and stepped aside.

  Andor tossed in the four bolts of silk he had purchased and nestled the necklace on top. With Björn’s help, they heaved the trunk to their shoulders. Even for strong men it was a heavy load. Several times they were forced to stop, making their walk back longer than they intended. Andor did not care. The delay would be worth it once he saw the joy on Gillian’s face.

  "Stop," Björn said, and they set the trunk down and sat atop it.

  "‘Tis a heavy load, but we are almost there." Andor flexed his shoulders.

  Björn shook his head. "These Gaedhil. Books. Can you imagine wasting the time?"

  Andor shrugged. "They are only stories written down. It might be interesting at that."

  Björn snorted. "And what do you intend to do? Learn to read them?"

  "I just might, if Gillian would be willing to teach me."

  "Sire!"

  Seamus’s call pulled them to their feet.

  "Glad I am I found ya," he said, gasping for breath. "Ya’ve got to hurry to catch her in time."

  "Catch who?" Andor asked.

  "Gillian...she got passage to Ireland. She’ll be leavin’ on the tide. Last ship in the row...Sorry I am, sire. I thought I was gettin’ passage for ya both."

  But Andor did not hear, he was too busy tearing through town to reach Gillian.

  Once Gillian headed out, she refused to look back. One glance over her shoulder might be all it would take to make her change her mind. She kept her eyes on the ships, her gait steady. Her departure vessel was not hard to miss. Its yellow sail was hoisted and straining to carry her away. Her step faltered.

  ‘Tis really the only way.

  She continued on, though somewhat less sure of herself than before.

  There was a footstep behind her. Gillian moved aside to let the person pass, but no one did. She glanced around. A deep-throated chuckle prickled the hair on back of her neck. Before she could quicken her step, a brown hand clamped over her arm.

  Gillian spun around, ready to strike with her bag, but the bulky object told on her before she could carry through, and her other arm was caught. She glared into Amir’s eyes. He tossed his head back in a laugh.

  "Such fire. I am surprised it has not singed your wings, my beautiful little butterfly. I see you are poised for flight. Do not be too hasty. Perhaps you merely need a change of habitat."

  A voice behind him was as cold as the sword blade which appeared by his cheek. "Let her go. The woman belongs to me."

  Amir released her without question, then faced Andor. "My apologies. Please, sheath your weapon. I have no desire to see my blood or yours staining these wooden planks."

  Andor motioned Gillian behind him. When she was safe, he put the sword away.

  "Perhaps you would be willing to let me buy her from you?" Amir asked. "She would make a nice addition to my harem. Red-h
aired slave girls are hard to find. Especially one of such beauty."

  "She is not a slave girl. She is my wife."

  Amir bowed. "Again, my apologies. I bid you good night."

  Andor waited until the man’s footsteps mingled with the sound of others before walking them back to their tent. He was strangely quiet, and Gillian wondered if he was simply waiting until they were alone before he exploded. From time to time she stole a glimpse of his face only to find it impossible to read his mood. Except for occasional assistance in passing other pedestrians, he did not touch her. When he did, it was always gentle.

  Why, Andor’s heart demanded to know? Had he hurt her so much that she could no longer bear his presence?

  Andor could fault no one but himself. Holding her to him now would only hurt her more. If she wished to go, he would not stand in her way, but she would not go as a passenger on a stranger’s ship. He would see her safely back with her people and comfortably so that she would never lack for a thing as long as she lived.

  As they reached the tent, he parted the flap for her to enter. "You will find a black trunk in there. It and its contents are for you."

  He hurried away before she could open it. Seeing joy and happiness on her face now would only weaken his resolve to let her go.

  Gillian stared before her, bewildered by Andor’s actions. Why would he stop her from leaving and then not reprimand her for trying to run away?

  Her gaze drifted to the small trunk in the far corner of the tent. With shaking hands, she knelt before it and lifted the lid. The lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow.

  She lifted the gold cross in disbelief. With shaking fingers, she slipped it around her neck and peered into the trunk once more. Gold, red, and blue silks glowed up at her. She picked up the blue to caress its softness and saw the books nestled underneath.

  Gillian gasped, not quite believing what she saw. Why? Why? She picked out one and clutched it to her chest as she began to cry.

  It was only when dusk turned to dark that she realized how long she had knelt there sobbing. She stretched the circulation back into her legs and lit an oil lamp. Its flame cast a double shadow upon the tent wall - hers and....

  "Andor," she said on a whisper.

  "Aye. ‘Tis me."

  He stepped into the light. Gillian’s eyes widened. His beard was gone! He forced a smile when she gasped, and she saw his right cheek dimple.

  "I did it so you could see my face. So you could see I was not lying as I speak to you...I have wronged you in many ways. Ways we both know too well. Although I do not deserve your forgiveness, I ask it of you now. I could not bear to see you go with you hating me as you must."

  "I do not hate you." She blinked back new tears.

  "Bless you for that." Andor stared at his hands. "When we sail, I shall see you safely back to Ireland. You will be well provided for."

  "You...you would take me home?"

  "Aye, though it tears my heart in two to do so. Anything could have happened to you on that other ship. Those men would have...." Thinking about it was bad enough - he couldn’t say the words.

  "Why would you care if I stayed or went? You could find another more suited for you than me," she said.

  "I could find no one I would love more than you."

  Gillian’s mouth worked, but no words passed her lips.

  "You look surprised," he said. "Surely you knew how I felt."

  Still dumbstruck, she shook her head. "You have never said."

  "Oh, my love, how foolish I have been. I thought I could prove my love by showing you. I did not realize how important those words were to you."

  "I have longed to hear them," she cried.

  Andor fell before her on his knees and took her hands in his.

  "Gillian, I love you more than life itself. I would search the corners of the earth, travel to the bowels of Niflheim, the land of the dead, to rescue you from danger. I would lie for you, cheat for you, steal and kill for you. I would sell my soul for you. All for love. You are my life, my reason for existing. Without you there is nothing. Without you I am nothing. I love you."

  Her tears fell to the ground between them and before long his eyes were misting, too.

  "There is still some distance between us, I know," he said. "How can there not be after all that has passed?"

  "I have love for you. Do not doubt that. But ‘tis true I feel a distance. When I thought you cared naught for me, I pushed my heart away. Now...I just - "

  "Give me time. Give us time. A year...and if you still want to leave, I will take you home. I swear it."

  Gillian nodded. It seemed a fair thing to ask.

  Andor stood, his hands still holding hers. "And in that year I swear I will do all I can to prove to you how very much I love you. You will be courted better than any young maid ever could hope to be. I ask only to hold you at night...nothing more until your heart is sure. I want no child to bind us when you would rather be apart."

  He kissed her then. Long, slow, and gently exploring, then pulled apart to hold her to him.

  "There is one more thing," Gillian said.

  He pulled back to look at her. "What?"

  "Well, ‘tis your beard."

  "I no longer have it."

  Gillian cast her eyes downward. "That is the problem. I like you better with it. I do not suppose you would consider growing it back."

  Andor laughed. "For you...anything."

  And as he kissed her once more, Gillian’s heart wondered if she could truly believe that.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  The quest for Gillian’s heart. Never was an undertaking so important. All the riches in the world could not compare nor would they be as dear. Now that he had won himself the time to seek his prize, Andor was at a loss as to how to acquire it. At this point, a wrong move might prove disastrous.

  He sought advice from his father and brother. Neither were of much help. In fact, after a few words about patience, love, and consideration, he left them scratching their heads for a better answer. He was definitely on his own in this matter. He finally decided his former plan was a good one - show her that he held her in high regard. Not by trying to buy her love, but by spending time with her.

  "We will be sailing tomorrow," he told her. "I have a few more details to arrange, a little trading to do. Would you like to come along? Once my business is done, we can spend the rest of the day looking around the town."

  Her smile was like a gift from the gods. "Let me fetch my new bag and I will be ready to leave."

  Andor studied the seal skin bag she brought from the tent. "Did you buy that yesterday?"

  "I made it."

  He took it for a closer look.

  "The carpet man had ones similar," she said, "But I prefer this. ‘Twill keep things inside dryer. I thought to bring it. I saw some herbs I want."

  "Excellent work. The seam is tight. The flap over the top helps keep things from falling out. Can you make one for my horse? ‘Twould do much better than a basket or a rolled-up fur."

  "Soon as we get home," she said.

  "Maybe you would want to make many so other people could purchase them."

  Gillian laughed. "Quit filling my head. ‘Tis practical, yes, but it is also not pretty. No one would want it." She slung the handle over her shoulder. "We had best be going before my head gets so full of nonsense it will not fit down the walkway."

  Andor laughed with her then linked her arm through his as they started their excursion.

  It wasn’t long before he realized they were being followed. Amir was obviously attempting to verify Andor’s assertions from the night before. He kept Gillian as close as possible, even when he conducted his business.

  She seemed not to notice the other man’s presence - her eyes were too busy with all the things for sale. That was fine with Andor - he wanted nothing to spoil this day. But how could he keep watch over her during his final transaction of the day? He was going to a place ladies s
hould not enter.

  "I had hoped I would not see you scowl like that today. What troubles you?"

  Andor cleared his throat. He looked everywhere but in her face. "I have one more thing left to do."

  "Then let’s see to it."

  "Well...uh...’tis not a place where ladies go."

  "Will your business take you long?"

  "No...Not long at all."

  "Then I will sit outside to wait."

  Andor scanned the crowd - there was no sign of the foreigner. "I will be quick."

  He hurried her along the main street until they reached a large tent on the outskirts of town.

  "I will not be long."

  Gillian dusted off a nearby box to sit. It had been a lovely day. Already her heart felt warm with love. She didn’t need a year to decide about staying - the decision was made.

  What concerned her now was what Andor would say if she told him she still wanted no children. Should she even tell him? Armed with the information Fjola had provided, she could now enjoy the pleasures he gave without danger of conception, and Andor would never be the wiser. Or would he? He was supposed to be as informed as she on the subject. Yet why hadn’t he mentioned it?

  Doubt nagged at her, clutching for the love she had begun to feel again. It oozed to the surface like a sore that had festered. Words he had spoken last night now looked like lies when compared to facts in the light of day.

  She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to force the bad away. It hurt too much, especially when she wanted to believe in his declaration of love. It was what she had longed to hear. What she had prayed for. Now that she had it, why should she think it a lie?

  No. He was not lying. Then she repeated the phrase until doubt had no choice but to leave. That victory won, she let a smile open her eyes to the view before her.

  The bustle of town was interesting for awhile, but she preferred these rolling green hills. The only building in this direction was a farmhouse nestled in the trees. Sheep grazed in the meadow, looking like tufts of snow the sun had missed.

  "Your husband is a very lucky man."

  Gillian’s back stiffened with the sound of Amir’s voice.