Return of the Rose

by Theresa Ragan

  She was lost. Only vast fields of tall grass lay before her. Her small blanket wasn’t enough to keep her warm. Her teeth chattered and her stomach grumbled. The bread was long gone and her head ached with the taunting beat of a migraine. She’d never had a migraine before, but that didn’t surprise her. She’d never climbed a tree before last night either, but here she sat, high above the solid ground, amid the bickering squirrels and angry ants.

  She had roamed the countryside for days, forgoing the solid path and making her own trail through high grass and streams, rocks and mud. Her shoes had been sucked up within the hungry mouth of a mud hole when she’d crossed a small stream. And she hadn’t had time to put on the slippers that were still snug within her leather bag…a bag she had sacrificed to a wild animal in exchange for her life. It seemed like a pretty fair deal at the time. She didn’t even know what kind of animal it had been, but she’d seen its red eyes and heard its scavenger snarl all too clearly. Without hesitation, she’d thrown the bag its way and climbed the nearest tree.

  Every part of her body felt bruised and stiff. Here she sat high aloft a spindly needleleaf tree, fighting a never-ending battle with an organized community of determined ants. She listened in vain for a crowing of a cock, the barking of a dog, any sound that would indicate human habitation. But besides a small breeze and the consistent upbraiding of an irate squirrel, it was eerily silent.

  She sighed, knowing it was time to move on. One more glance about told her Derek wasn’t coming after her. More than once last night she’d come awake with a start, sure that she’d heard the neigh of his horse and the pounding of its hooves. But then the crickets would lull her back to sleep where she would imagine he had come to his senses, and she was back in his arms, safe and sound.

  Derek paced the floor of his study like an enraged beast. He felt the growth of a beard, more than just a shadow upon his jaw. He drew in a hefty swallow of amber brew, a gift from the king…a gift he had not planned to sample so soon. But there was no time like the present, he figured, as he finished off the last of the rum before continuing his pacing.

  He deserved to be punished, he told himself, for allowing his brain to be controlled by the tightness of his breeches. Again he stopped before the table, this time filling his cup with a dark hearty wine, swallowing the contents in one long gulp. He stared into the cold empty hearth and even there he saw his wife’s face. Looking exactly as she had at their first meeting. Oddly dressed, yet strangely familiar. Could it be possible that they met before? Nay, he thought with a shake of his head, he would have remembered her. Unless they had met in another time, another world…a drunken fit of laughter escaped him at the thought, echoing off the dense walls. His laughter quickly faded, and he stumbled drunkenly across the room. “Well, that would explain everything,” he said aloud, teetering slightly before he fell awkwardly into the chair behind his writing table. Mounds of paperwork sat before him and he patted the pile as if it were a pet. He slid his daily ledger closer for a better look. The numbers blurred into nothingness.

  Derek paid scant heed to the heavy footfalls in the corridor. He hardly glanced up at all when the door swung open and Emmon stormed in with a crutch, a bad limp, and a furious scowl upon his young face. Emmon took a seat before him, wrinkling his nose with disgust. “Have you not changed your clothes?” the boy asked.

  Derek examined his wrinkled tunic, noticing how the ties of his shirt hung loose. His gaze then fell to the unchanged bandages on his arm. He tried to shrug but his shoulder pained him, so he returned his gaze to his ledgers and tried to remember where he left off.

  “It smells like a brewery in here,” Emmon complained.

  “Then leave, boy.”

  “Not until you tell me what you intend to do about your wife’s disappearance.”

  Derek raised his head just enough until he peered into the eyes of the impudent man-boy who dared to bother him so persistently. He tried hard to remember when exactly the boy had become such a nuisance. “What I intend to do is finish my work. For as you can see…” Derek paused as he realized he completely forgot the point he was about to make.

  Emmon drummed his fingers against his crutch and waited.

  “Ahhh,” Derek said, gesturing towards the mounds of parchments. “As you can see, all of the chaos of late has caused me to neglect the work that keeps this castle running smoothly. ‘Twould seem you have much to learn, my boy.”

  “With all due respect,” Emmon ground out, “I believe it is you who has much to learn. And I thought we agreed you would no longer call me ‘boy.’”

  “Aye, my apologies, boy.” He chuckled.

  Emmon’s eyes narrowed considerably. “Did you ever ask the king, or mayhap Hugo, or even your own wife who it was who tended your serpent’s hide while you lay dying and bleeding within the king’s court? Were you aware that Lady Amanda is the one who stayed by your side, calming your fever and keeping you from joining the dead? You would be talking to the devil now if she had believed the doctor’s words when he said there was naught anyone could do. But she would not listen.”

  Derek raked his hand through his hair, turning a frigid gaze on Emmon. “You are beginning to sound like Lady Amanda herself. Make your point and then get out before you set my hackles to rising.”

  “My point is,” Emmon bravely continued, “if Lady Amanda had a plan as you assured us she did, then why did she not let you die? She is no doctor. And yet with only Matti and Odelia to aid her, she reopened your wound and removed this from deep within your battered soul.” Emmon dropped a piece of iron on the parchment in front of Derek.

  Derek raised both arms in a questioning gesture. “Methinks we both agree she is a talented wench. So what now? I did not force her to leave Braddock, nor did I punish her for releasing my prisoner.”

  “DeChaville should never have been locked up. He helped save the damn castle.”

  “He also tried to kill me.”

  “In self defense,” Emmon argued.

  “He will stop at nothing until he has my wife.”

  Emmon raised a brow. “A wife you do not want or love.”

  Derek’s stomach roiled at the bluntness of Emmon’s words.

  Emmon refused to give up. “I spied upon her ladyship when DeChaville first found her outside these castle walls; ‘twas only a few days after she arrived. Lady Amanda told him the same story she told you…that she was from another time, another place. She told him she was not Lady Amanda and she refused to leave with him.”

  “And yet you failed to tell me this before?”

  “I was befuddled by her stories.”

  Derek pressed his palms against his aching temples. “And now you are not?”

  Emmon leaned forward, his eyes brightening. “I believe she is not Amanda Forrester at all. It does seem odd that the people who know her best think she is someone she is not, but I trust she does not lie.”

  Stunned, Derek gaped at the boy. It was as if Lady Amanda were inside of Emmon’s body this very moment, telling him what to say.

  “My God man,” Emmon went on, “listen to what I say. I believe—”

  Derek’s obtrusive laughter broke into Emmon’s words. “You, my boy, have been bit by the spidery fangs of a woman!”

  Emmon’s eyes blazed as he jerked upright, sending his chair toppling behind him.

  When Derek’s laughter subsided, he, too, stood up to see the boy out, surprised when Emmon lunged at him with all the voraciousness of a bloodthirsty wolf.

  CHAPTER 19

  A loud thump and a crash sent Matti running toward Lord Vanguard’s study. She threw open the door and stood flabbergasted as she watched Derek and Emmon roll across the room.

  “You two stop it right now! Derek, I mean it; you are going to hurt him!” Still shrieking, she hopped out of the way as they scuffled past her, colliding into the door with a crash. Wood chips flew about as the door splintered. They fought a winding path across the passageway and into the main hall, knockin
g over chairs and tables as they went. An old dog got in the way and yelped before it ran off with its tail between his legs.

  A dozen castle folk gathered around to see what the commotion was about. Although both men were wounded and Lord Vanguard was half sowed, they managed quite well to snake across the floor, exchanging heated blows at consistent intervals.

  Lord Vanguard finally pushed Emmon far enough away so that he could stagger to his feet.

  Emmon looked like a crazed and injured animal as he scrambled to one foot, hopping on one leg before he thrust himself at Lord Vanguard once again.

  His lordship stumbled backwards into the long table newly set for the morning’s meal. The table split in two. Plates and utensils flew to the air. Matti ran to Odelia’s side and they took cover behind a wooden beam.

  Again Derek came to his feet, a carrot dangling from his shirt and mutton dripping from his pants. He kicked his way through the rubble to get to Emmon, who was now slipping in a heap of porridge a few feet away.

  Derek’s jaw hardened as he grabbed Emmon by the collar and picked him up until the boy’s feet no longer touched the ground.

  Shayna screamed for his lordship to stop.

  She had seen enough. Matti ran into the middle of the brawl shaking her finger wildly only to be mistakenly walloped by Lord Vanguard when he sent Emmon soaring backwards.

  Hugo arrived in time to see his wife stumbling and staggering backward across the room. His face heated as he stalked toward Lord Vanguard with the strength of ten warriors coursing through his blood.

  Seeing his wife take wing gave him a rush of adrenaline as he picked his lordship up with one Herculean hand, pinning him helplessly against the wall. Eager to strike a hefty fist into his lord’s insolent face, he stopped as the high-pitched shouts of a scullery maid cut through the room, piercing his ears.

  “She’s come back! Amanda and Robert DeChaville are here!”

  Hugo held his position as if waiting for his picture to be painted as he and all else in the room looked towards Braddock’s entrance.

  Every face was open-mouthed and saucer-eyed as the mirror image of Lady Amanda entered the keep. She wore a loose shirt-like dress of dark bombazine with jagged hem and torn seams.

  Derek’s heart pounded in his throat as he watched the woman take a few timid steps forward. He could hardly trust his own sight. This woman’s eyes were round instead of oval and so blue in color there could be no mistaking she was not the same woman that had verily turned this castle upside down. Her hair was the same shade of tawny gold as his wife, her height nearly exact. But her curves were not nearly as voluptuous. How could this be? He rubbed at his eyes, certain that he’d been knocked in the head once too often. He gave Hugo a fierce scowl, but the man held him tight against the wall.

  “Put him down,” Matti pleaded. “He meant me no harm.”

  Hugo grunted, his veins throbbing at the temple, unwilling to let him go just yet.

  Matti rolled her eyes at Hugo’s stubbornness.

  Amanda Forrester glanced about the room, her countenance resembling a wild hare that had suddenly run into the waiting jaws of more than one hungry dog. She clung tightly to Robert’s hand.

  Odelia walked slowly toward her, shaking her head, blinking with incredulity. “How can this be? How did I not see it before?”

  “I am glad to see you,” Amanda said as she crushed herself to Odelia’s chest, hugging her tight. “And I am truly sorry for all the trouble I have caused.”

  “Where have you been?” Odelia asked, her voice a stunned whisper.

  Amanda gazed at the maid with apologetic eyes. “After taking Emmon’s horse I went to Wilmead Farm where Robert and I were to meet.”

  Emmon growled.

  “Robert’s friend was away so I made use of his cabin, eating berries and taking baths in the lake to keep clean.” Her voice became soft. “I am dreadfully ashamed. I only knew that I could not marry a man I did not love.”

  Robert took her hand and tried to explain. “So many months had passed since Amanda and I had seen one another that I failed to see the truth. Not until Morgan released me from Braddock’s towers did I see the grave error I had made. When I caught sight of the rose-shaped amethyst about her neck, thick clouds lifted from my head and I saw clearly for the first time that she was not my Amanda. I went to Wilmead Farm as she had pleaded for me to do all along.” Robert smiled lovingly at Amanda. “And I found my love, just as Vanguard’s wife said I would.”

  In light of what was happening or mayhap because his hand was tiring, Hugo loosened his grip and let Derek fall to the ground.

  Derek scowled at the burly warrior, his supposed friend, as he came to his feet, finding great comfort in being upon solid ground again. He straightened his dirty collar and brushed straw and splinters from his torn linen shirt. He picked up Emmon’s broken crutch and offered it to him as a token of apology.

  Emmon humbly accepted.

  After making his apologies to Matti, Derek appeared suddenly sober as he cleared the length of the hall with a few powerful strides. He towered over the woman they all referred to as Amanda. “Odelia,” he bellowed, unable to accept what he was seeing and hearing. “I beseech you to tell me here and now why you call this lady before you by the name of Amanda?”

  He waited. They all waited, hoping for some kind of reasonable explanation.

  “My Lord, I have made a grave error. My eyesight is poor and I had only been at Silverwood a short time before I was instructed to accompany Lady Amanda to Braddock, which is why I failed to see the truth.”

  Derek squeezed the back of his neck as he tried hard to grasp what the maid was trying to say.

  “Their resemblance is astounding,” Odelia went on. “And I must say, because I was forewarned of Amanda’s…umm, creative nature, and had heard many stories of her unruly antics, I thought little of her strange speech and odd tales. After a while, though, her consistent use of such odd dialect along with her mannerisms caused me to feel uneasy at times. I began to think something was amiss until I learned that Robert, too, believed her to be his Amanda. I knew not what to think after that.”

  This new Amanda peered up at Derek, studying him critically as she said, “The day your men came to Silverwood I had every intention of coming here to be your bride. ‘Tis true,” she added upon seeing his disbelieving scowl. “Although I was upset with my father for agreeing to the marriage, I packed my things, for I could not find the courage to tell him I loved another. And yet neither could I spend the rest of my life knowing that the man I loved was out there somewhere without me.”

  Derek rubbed his hands through his hair. He was losing patience and his mind reeled with thoughts of his wife. How could this happen? Morgan was the woman who possessed a creamy complexion and rosy cheeks. ‘Twas Morgan who had fawn colored hair and a high, regular nose. So many times she had tried to tell him.

  Her bright smile plagued his mind at the thought of her alone in the woods for so many days. Visions of her slain body upon the road made his gut ache. Emmon’s angry words suddenly swirled within his mind, and he envisioned her now, back at Windsor, sitting by his side, night after night, going against the physician’s orders and saving his very life. Why had she not told him? He recalled how she made him smile with her ludicrous stories and with her great gales of unfeminine laughter.

  And now she was gone. She’d loved him, faults and all. Where was she now?

  Amanda touched his forearm. “I beseech you, my lord, if you have any compassion at all, tell me of your wife’s whereabouts, for I believe she may be my sister.”

  “Your sister?” he asked as if all the world had gone suddenly insane.

  “When I was small I used to watch my father pick flowers from my mother’s garden,” Amanda said. “Taking great care in gathering a bouquet, he would hide the flowers beneath his cloak and leave the castle by foot. I knew of this, for I had spied his ritual many times. And on one occasion I dared to follow him. After a
long walk he came to a mound of stones upon the ground. ‘Twas there he laid the flowers, lowering his head in prayer. He said, “Return to us soon, my daughter.”

  Amanda looked at Odelia. “Is that not strange? Those words plagued me all that day, but I was young and forgot about it until Robert told me of this woman who is my mirror image and of the necklace so similar to mine.”

  With his fingertips, Derek felt the rose-shaped pendant within his pouch. After his wife had left, he’d found it in her chambers. He hadn’t realized he carried it until now.

  “Our pendants are of the same rare stone. A gift from my father…mayhap our father.”

  Odelia’s eyes widened. “You think your mother gave birth to another daughter who died in infancy? It is your twin sister appearing as a ghost after all these years?”

  “The Witch of Devonshire stated such,” Emmon agreed, “except Morgan is no ghost. ‘Twas more like she came through time itself.”

  “Emmon,” Derek bellowed, turning to glare at the young knight. “What do you know of all this?”

  “When you were gone,” Emmon said. “When I escorted the women to the market to purchase cloth. Not too surprisingly, her ladyship disappeared. A while later, I found her running from the clutches of an old hag. Turned out to be the Witch of Devonshire who shrieked and pointed, declaring that the spell had worked and her ladyship had come back from the dead. Methinks the old woman was so excited I was sure she would expire from the high-strung shrieks she made as we took off.”

  Again, Derek threaded his fingers through his hair, wondering why Emmon had not bothered to say a word of this until now. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was to blame. Did he not tell everyone in the castle that he wanted nothing to do with Lady Amanda? Look what happened to Emmon when he came forth.

  Derek’s face grew taut with grief and remorse.

  A messenger arrived then and everyone in the room glanced toward the door where the newest arrival stood.