Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Feb 17, 2009 13:31:51 GMT -6
Aodhan's return was a glorious triumph in the face of mounting adversaries. So much good had come out of this one event that everyone had hopes that put an aura of invincibility around the Griffin Court. Through the clouds, the sun shone in a magnificent halo inside of the Great Hall. For once, the central hub of the castle bustled with activity. All matter of cleaning every crevice, repairing old tapestries and ordering new ones had been implemented. Murals were to be redressed, rooms attired in all the finest that could be found. Certainly, why not? Rumor foretold the arrival of the Holy See to the shores. Airs were to be put forward! Yet, the greatest reason for this was a more delighted, secular pleasure:
There was talk of a coronation. A real coronation. An affair that hadn't been seen on the Isle since the likes of many hundred years ago when there were esteemed Kings of Norman ancestry. The halls were to house a true royal family, and nothing could be grander than the impending birth of another.
She made little mention of her condition since it was revealed. Beathag enjoyed the delight that it brought to her kin as Adam held her at night, talking of what he believed to be of hair, eyes, and demeanor. Aodhan performed tricks he'd learned from old wives concerning needles, string, and prophesied he would have a sister again! This did not bother him at all, for he knew in time he would have brothers to play with. With so many young lads in the castle to be brought up for the knighthood, he was at no lack of playfellows or people to admire. For her part in the matter, the Duchess entertained whim with the strong, clear smile that was fabled to have grown so large it stretched from ear to ear. Despite the talk of war, she had grown more beautiful every day to the point where for once it was immediately noticed. No dress, no jewels, no gifts to bring out what had always been. Her skin was no longer chaffed by the wind. Red was only the flush of health, and not the exposure to the sun. Leather-touch was not the fate of her hands, and the callus only came from the instrument, easily remedied.
No one could quite say if her hair had become longer or if it had always been going beyond her shoulders to the middle of her hips. All they cared to comment on was the luster evoked when the light hit it. Years of fatigue vanished overnight and before them was a woman who wasn't beautiful by substance of spirit alone, but for once the body radiated what the insides always demonstrated: Beauty for beauty's sake. Beauty, alive of its own accord.
He stood before Beathag’s full-length mirror; nude from the waist up; his fingertips lightly touching the scar upon his chest. It had been three full years since that day when the Baron ran him thru with a lance. The skin had healed, but the true scar was invisible to all but him. He had been betrayed by a mentor… a man who he had put all trust and allegiance… A man who’s true master had been his own Father. Even now, his own Father betrayed him, yet again. He silently vowed that the kidnapping of the Ebony Prince would be the last betrayal.
Aodhan was home, and the halls bustled with activity. Soon, the Holy See would visit. Adam looked at the mirror. “Wot ‘ave yae dun tae deserve the visit o’ the most Holy one… ‘specially since yae dun trust them either?” he uttered to himself. Sea-green eyes viewed the man in the mirror. “Ah am but a man… longing faer a place tae ‘ave mae family live free… and safe…” said in the brogue, yet not as thick as Beathag’s.
And the man in the mirror answered back… “You have done well… You have given your family a roof over their head… food to eat, and friends and family that support you in time of need. God’s holy graces shall be bestowed soon, even though you beckon them not… A country depends on your decisions. Keep faith…” all was said in perfect English.
“Ah ‘ave faith in mae wife… and mae son… and the bairin mae wife carries… Ah ev’n ‘ave faith in mae brother and sister in laws…” he looks away then back to the image in the mirrior… “And a choice few others…” then he pauses… “Ah ‘ave been betrayed by sae many o’mae countrymen, whae can Ah trust?”
A smile… a finger pointed… “Trust your intuition. You know who can be trusted and who cannot… You have that scar to remind you… trust all, but keep your armour ready. Let them that shall betray you know you are ready, and those that shall side with you can open the platings with ease.” A smile turned into a smirk. “Your wife grows more beautiful everyday. Being with child is good for her. She wields a different axe now… and you a different sword.”
Adam smiled at the thought of Bess finally with child… “Aye, tis a goot thing she is with bairin… and yet Ah knaew nay wot the child shall bae… A son mayhaps… tae give Aodhan a companion… a brother tae share graces wit…” he looks to the floor, then back to the mirror… “A lass would bae alright, baet t’would bae hard tae match against Edme…”
“Match not against the dead… for the living is worth all…” the voice booms from the image in the mirror… “Dwell nay in the afterlife… for love shall endure… Times soon shall be at their darkest… All could be lost if you peer into the darkness… be the light that guides the land… Trust your faith in the White Hound and the Ebony Prince… for if you fail in the test of a darkest hour…” then an arm, of dead flesh and showing bone, thrusts out of the mirror and grabs Adam by the throat… threatening to choke the life from him.
In a state of panic, Adam rises sharply in the bed… sitting erect, his hand upon his neck… he wildly looks around the room… his beloved wife now sitting up as well… both awakened by his screams.
Beauty slept beside the man who warred with the inner Beast that couldn't be kept at bay any longer. He gave her hope for peace and made it come to reality, but would Adam have none for himself? In sweet dark sleep, she neither heard nor saw anything but the dance of the universe. It was a symphony that came to a crashing end when his cry permeated the space between dreams. As if attuned to this action, the sign of distress brought her forthright from rest. Sitting upright would cause Beathag's hair to tumble across her face. Those few strands free of the braid it was placed in were tucked quickly behind the ears so that nothing was obstructed.
"Adam, Adam!" He still screamed even as his eyes were open. It took her a minute to capture the hand that clawed at his throat...his own. She put a hand to his head and made him look at her, pressing her lips gently to his to chase the last of the devils away from him. "Only a dream, mah love. Only a dream! Shh. Calm ye down afore ye waken the rest of the castle n' scare e'eryone 'alf tae death! Wot happened?" Cold perspiration touched her hands. Where he was restless, she was soothed. How strange that for once, things was not as they had been used to being. Far be it from any to have ever guessed the day when Beathag would not flail an evocative hand at the nature of a subject but draw in what needed to be heard.
Adam was silent. An uncharacteristic, deep silence that his wife couldn't abide by. Laying him back to the bed, she watched him in the light of the winter moon as she gently inspired him to tell her the troubles…
Sea-green eyes, though darkened a bit scanned the ceilings above, the flicker back and forth seemed to speak volumes in itself. “T’was nae a dream and a nightmare… I spoke tae an Ainglish self of me… and he bade mae care… care for those that cannae bae trusted…” his hand went to his bare chest, seeking the scar that would forever make him pause… “The vision said that yu grow more beautiful, and yer axe tis nay wot it use tae… and now yae wield an axe of a different style…” he glances at her then back to the dark ceiling… “And Ah a different sword…”
“Winter graews ‘ard, yet our enemies still prepare… and as we dae… tis my Father that escapes every roadblock Ah prepare… Ah dae nae wish tae be defensive, but offensive… baet the dreams bade me care who Ah trust…” with a soft glance her way… “The Pope comes ‘ere… baet Ah dunnae trust ‘im…” then the glance to the door then back to the ceiling… eyeing the darkness above as if he searches for a light… “Tis rumor, he wishes tae coronate us… baet I dunnae trust that… why would the Holy See coronate me if nae faer King o’Scotland… ‘e knaews Ah am nae o’religious stature… nor hold much belief… at least nae some man ‘as touched.” He shook his head side to side.
“The vision told me tae nae dwell in the afterlife… that in mae darkest hour, Ah should trust in you and Aodhan…” he looks at her… “As if Ah dun already… yae knaew Ah trust mae life wit yae…” then he rolls to look at her… “Ah feel that the babe yae carry t’will bae a girl… and William shall try to gain her…” he paused… “The end of the dream was when it said… If Ah should fail in the darkest hour… death would reign rue… and that’s when the specter grabbed mae by de throat… and Ah was chokin’ tae death…” he looks to the darkness in the ceiling again… “Ah shant fail luv… e’n if Ah should hold the sword again… and bae struck dead upon a field o’battle… Ah knaew that yae and Aodhan, shall rule well without mae… for our children sake… Yae must!!!”
Falling back into the pillow, his arm going immediately to his forehead. “Bessie Eve… Much ‘as occurred tae us… we naew live in a time, wrou’t about by our own… All Ah want’d was tae give yae a nice place tae live… and tae bae happy…” he paused and rolled his head to look at her… her features now highlighted by a candle… “Bessie, lass, Ah want yae tae knaew one thing… tha’ Ah luv yae… heart, body, an’ soul… ne’r minding wot cometh… mae luv shall always bae wit yae…” Then he pulled her down to him, into a kiss, ever so passionate, his hand caressing her form, measuring her stomach with tender touches, tending scars now healed… just to touch her… just to let her know he loved her.
They say many marriages are arranged and love knows home in marriage… These two chose one another… and laid foundations for others to follow… One pagan… one formerly of the Church… neither tredding upon the other’s religious path… yet again laying the foundation for the country to enjoy religious freedom, something that had not been allowed to happen before… Those two ideals of heart led to ideals more programmatic ideals of government… which erupted into a Gaelic Renaissance that would liken the realms of no Lord of the Isles before… mixing old ways with new ways of thinking…
Dreams? Nightmares? These two made their own choice for one another. Or did they? Were they ordained by fate to meet? To love? To give rebirth to a nation??
Adam's dreams were so vivid, so intense that Beathag wondered if he slept with his eyes open. The colors of his world were not too far from the brilliance of Skye itself. Did souls have messages for him? Her mother once said that a dream was the heart trying to relieve itself of knowledge the mind can hardly fathom. Or it was the mind, at last, trying to repeat over and over what it held until finally reason took hold. There was reason a'plenty, and a great deal of heart. She couldn't tell what it was. Instead, she offered him her arms. His body felt good to her, solid. For her part, dreams were seldom for the deep, darkness of sweet sleep held her firm. If she were given up to dreams - but no - it was Adam's time.
"We will gae on nay matter wot, but we shall gae on first taegether," she said with insistence to his fervor, "Ah've nay desire, Adam, tae rule alone. Dun nay talk on tha'. Of all else... wot can be said m'heart.." She sighed into his hair so the warm breath's gust could make the strands of dark dance over the peachy-pink skin of his scalp. One lock of stray strands tumbled down over her fingertips so she twined it around. Round and round it went, not taking but two times to twist it. It was so much darker than her own, and she wondered, would her child wear this crop of strands or hers? What eyes, what mouth. For all the hardship Maubrey blood gave them, it made for handsome men and the features of Davina made them romantic. Beauty was inherit then. Maybe if it were that simple, peace after so many generations of upheavel would be inherited, too. Her head looked down, her body lifted but before he could issue out any call of worry, she captured the Duke's hand to feel the child that kicked. "Be it a girl then? She is hearty, is she nay? The babe twists n' turns tae your voice often, here, place ye head there." She was the firmament he built his pillars on, and he was the walls that kept out the hardship of the world. Concrete was the evidence of their union, pressing to the cheek of the Duke from the flesh of the Duchess. His wish and her desire. His first child of flesh and blood to join what he had of spiritual bindings for Aodhan. As she offered him this chance to stray from the dream, a piece of reality caught up with her. Letting her brow level down, she muttered, "He will naught take this, nor any child again. He will die, before tha' time. By yer hand, or by Eamonn's, by a man of this family he will perish and we will ne'er think on him again when it is done."
Beathag and Adam made a choice to be together in free will, a difference from the choice to rebel against an arranged marriage or any such wish that hadn't been theirs. Still, one had to wonder if Davina and Murieall would have offered their children forward for the age old practice. She believed so. Had that been the case history would have enough proof to say that William would have vehemently denied it for it would not have allowed him to have what he wanted. He wanted to gain Murieall as a wife, not Beathag as a daughter. Still, long ago became now. Beathag had no love for the father by marriage she had gained, nor for any others than what were before her now or already dead and gone. Maubrey… He had consumed so much of their minds for months that she would be glad when he died. Aye, she wished for his death as ardently as she wished for the babe's life.
“Dreams that plague mae may bae a sign o’times… baet yae knaew mae… Ah forge our own way lass… All Ah pray is tha’ yae knaew Ah love yae… pre-ordained, pre-fated, or happenstance… Ah always ‘ave, since the first day Ah met yae…” the embrace slow, tedious, and long… not the usual squeeze of strength, but the loving side of the man that only she knew… Fact, he had loved before… but none like he has with Beathag. And no doubtedly, she would be the only love that he would take to his death pyre… whether that soon, or long from now…
Whispers in her ear were soft… “Skye bae yet again at war… Tis what Dmitrii continually says… Shall we ever ‘ave peace?” Gentle callous hand caresses her beautiful face… “Should Ah fall in battle… or captured and made for worse… Ah shall ‘ave yer love tae carry mae thru… Skye is drenched in the blood o’her kinsmen… and ours… Ah see me Ma, and Da, in mae dreams… lives wrought asunder bae dishonesty an’ lies… but my waking knaews we are nun o’tha’… and tis makes me proud tae bae yer ‘usband… baet Skye must gae on… should things get tae much ahrm here, Ah pray tha’ Eamonn can take yae all tae Eohmark… William ‘as always had much trouble securing the Lands ‘Eohmark… and Eamonn t’will bae the best tae watch o’r yae all… Dmitrii and Ah shall remain in Turas Lan… as will mae Commanders… to strike out agin aggression to all the lands o’Skye…”
His soft “Ssshhh” quieted her rebellious words against his commands… “Ah ‘ave seen it time and time again… A Gryphon, armed.. and a Bull, in his own blood red armour… facing one another, thousands around them… yet they face one another alone… and to the left… stands a shadowed figure… to the right, Dmitrii…” then he sighs and hugs her securely… “But no dream has explained the result… none that the spring rain puddles are stained red…”
"Ah only hope it is nay tae late," she whispered in rely, kissing his fingertip to soothe what he saw as rebellion, was indeed her agreeance, "We've all lingered tae long in hopes o' resolve but none 'as come. Mah fear 'usband, is tha' we may be trapped, or may nay reach as far as Eohmark. Eamonn is right, n' when we went but a few months afore..were it tae come tae this? Ah should've stayed. Now, look 'pon the size o' our household. There are many lives tha' hang in the balance. Many lives tha' have nay e'en begun." The children of the Court entered her thoughts now. The children that she told stories too, that she watched grow and change. Young lives that she did not want cut down, like Edme's.
Inside of her lay a child, too, that waited to be born. In the languid stay of his embrace she found a love that no one would believe either capable of having. A kiss she took, another, deep. "We shall find a way. Though yer mind. Ahdam, Perhaps it is best tha' ye seek a meanin' tae these dreams. Ye need ask, aye." No question was a fool's question save those that went unasked. Among their company now were religious heads and people on bended knee, but some things were ageless. Older than Christ, older than stone idols. The power of one who could decipher the meaning of dreams. Laying on her back again, she looked up toward the top of their bed, as if gazing off into the height of the room for a name. None manifested viably before the eyes, but one did come to her mind. Her eyes turned to meet his. For a time, she said nothing, until:
"She knew we would gae across the sea n' there our child would come to beh concieved Ahdam."
The world was frought with danger. In that, no request seemed too outlandish if it could be complied with. It was known that among them, the small woman who had never sought much for herself yet had the goodness of the world in her hands was among them. The twenty miles and so seemed a hundred now, but perhaps if it were crossed by her to Turas Lan? It had been so long since she'd looked on her face. If she held still, Beathag could recall the intense blue gaze, the dark hair, and the pale face that they were set against. She felt her calm, remembered her kindness, and even what it was to marvel at her recover from an illness or injury. Eirian. Friend to many, yet seeking the aid of no one. It seemed terrible to seek her counsel but there was no one else who had the scope that she did. No one would be unglad to see her come but once arrived it may prove impossible for her to leave. Selfishly, she vied for a chance to have all of her women together just one more time. In joy, or in sorrow, to take what was coming. "Ye should send Dmitri for her, if it can beh done."
“Aye lass… we should mabbe ‘ad stayed… but much has transpired since then… and we were needed ‘ere…” he caressed her face. “Tis mabbe nay too late… ne’r too late, if’n we take care and plan well… Ah say we load everyone on the Highland Duchess… and take her escorts to run wit ‘er…” he nods a bit at her resistance. “T’would scarce our ports, but ah feel we can hold out…” He smiles heartily at her… “Baet knaew this… Ah shant bae gaein’… Ah belong ‘ere… tis yae, Aodha, and the bairinn tha; means more tae mae… Gae tae Eohmark… Ah’ll bae fine ‘ere…”
Getting up from the bed, he opens the door and summons a messenger… “Wake Sir Dmitrii… get him ‘ere prompt…” then he walks slowly back to the bedside, taking a cup of water and drinking it. Over the rim, he sees her and closes his eyes briefly.
Dmitrii was roused from a deep sleep… his hands still ached from the burns he had sustained from helping Aegraine. Making mental note to see her in the morning… He dressed in his light armour, just in case… then made his way thru the winding corridors and up the numerous stairs to his Lordship’s bedchambers. With a soft knock, he waited.
“Enter…” as he wrapped a light robe of black and gold about his nude form, glancing back at Bess still in the bed.
Dmitrii entered and was surprised to his his Ladyship in her gown, covered mostly by the blanket… “Apologies M’Lady…” he begged as he cast his eyes upon the stone floor. With his head tilting a bit, he spoke softly. “You summoned me M’Lord?”
“Aye mae brother… Ah want yae tae travel tae the lands of Lady Eirian… and summon her in mae name… The Lady Beathag and Ah require her skills… care be taken on the roads… ride swift, spare no time…” he paused… “Take the men yae need… choices are yers tae make…”[/i][/color]
Dmitrii looked to Bess then to Adam… “I pray yu are well M’Lady…M’Lord…” then he listened to Adam speak… “Understood M’Lord…” pausing… his fingers playing at the neatly trimmed beard in contemplation… Then he looked to Adam as he dropped his hand… “I need none M’Lord… I can travel swiftly, inconspicuously alone…” then his arm went across his chest, his fist to his heart.
Adam looked to Bess, then to Dmitrii… “Sae bae it…” then as Dmitrii looked to Adam… “By yer leave, my liege…” and began to turn around… Adam spoke… "be careful Dmitrii... come home safe..."
There was talk of a coronation. A real coronation. An affair that hadn't been seen on the Isle since the likes of many hundred years ago when there were esteemed Kings of Norman ancestry. The halls were to house a true royal family, and nothing could be grander than the impending birth of another.
She made little mention of her condition since it was revealed. Beathag enjoyed the delight that it brought to her kin as Adam held her at night, talking of what he believed to be of hair, eyes, and demeanor. Aodhan performed tricks he'd learned from old wives concerning needles, string, and prophesied he would have a sister again! This did not bother him at all, for he knew in time he would have brothers to play with. With so many young lads in the castle to be brought up for the knighthood, he was at no lack of playfellows or people to admire. For her part in the matter, the Duchess entertained whim with the strong, clear smile that was fabled to have grown so large it stretched from ear to ear. Despite the talk of war, she had grown more beautiful every day to the point where for once it was immediately noticed. No dress, no jewels, no gifts to bring out what had always been. Her skin was no longer chaffed by the wind. Red was only the flush of health, and not the exposure to the sun. Leather-touch was not the fate of her hands, and the callus only came from the instrument, easily remedied.
No one could quite say if her hair had become longer or if it had always been going beyond her shoulders to the middle of her hips. All they cared to comment on was the luster evoked when the light hit it. Years of fatigue vanished overnight and before them was a woman who wasn't beautiful by substance of spirit alone, but for once the body radiated what the insides always demonstrated: Beauty for beauty's sake. Beauty, alive of its own accord.
He stood before Beathag’s full-length mirror; nude from the waist up; his fingertips lightly touching the scar upon his chest. It had been three full years since that day when the Baron ran him thru with a lance. The skin had healed, but the true scar was invisible to all but him. He had been betrayed by a mentor… a man who he had put all trust and allegiance… A man who’s true master had been his own Father. Even now, his own Father betrayed him, yet again. He silently vowed that the kidnapping of the Ebony Prince would be the last betrayal.
Aodhan was home, and the halls bustled with activity. Soon, the Holy See would visit. Adam looked at the mirror. “Wot ‘ave yae dun tae deserve the visit o’ the most Holy one… ‘specially since yae dun trust them either?” he uttered to himself. Sea-green eyes viewed the man in the mirror. “Ah am but a man… longing faer a place tae ‘ave mae family live free… and safe…” said in the brogue, yet not as thick as Beathag’s.
And the man in the mirror answered back… “You have done well… You have given your family a roof over their head… food to eat, and friends and family that support you in time of need. God’s holy graces shall be bestowed soon, even though you beckon them not… A country depends on your decisions. Keep faith…” all was said in perfect English.
“Ah ‘ave faith in mae wife… and mae son… and the bairin mae wife carries… Ah ev’n ‘ave faith in mae brother and sister in laws…” he looks away then back to the image in the mirrior… “And a choice few others…” then he pauses… “Ah ‘ave been betrayed by sae many o’mae countrymen, whae can Ah trust?”
A smile… a finger pointed… “Trust your intuition. You know who can be trusted and who cannot… You have that scar to remind you… trust all, but keep your armour ready. Let them that shall betray you know you are ready, and those that shall side with you can open the platings with ease.” A smile turned into a smirk. “Your wife grows more beautiful everyday. Being with child is good for her. She wields a different axe now… and you a different sword.”
Adam smiled at the thought of Bess finally with child… “Aye, tis a goot thing she is with bairin… and yet Ah knaew nay wot the child shall bae… A son mayhaps… tae give Aodhan a companion… a brother tae share graces wit…” he looks to the floor, then back to the mirror… “A lass would bae alright, baet t’would bae hard tae match against Edme…”
“Match not against the dead… for the living is worth all…” the voice booms from the image in the mirror… “Dwell nay in the afterlife… for love shall endure… Times soon shall be at their darkest… All could be lost if you peer into the darkness… be the light that guides the land… Trust your faith in the White Hound and the Ebony Prince… for if you fail in the test of a darkest hour…” then an arm, of dead flesh and showing bone, thrusts out of the mirror and grabs Adam by the throat… threatening to choke the life from him.
In a state of panic, Adam rises sharply in the bed… sitting erect, his hand upon his neck… he wildly looks around the room… his beloved wife now sitting up as well… both awakened by his screams.
Beauty slept beside the man who warred with the inner Beast that couldn't be kept at bay any longer. He gave her hope for peace and made it come to reality, but would Adam have none for himself? In sweet dark sleep, she neither heard nor saw anything but the dance of the universe. It was a symphony that came to a crashing end when his cry permeated the space between dreams. As if attuned to this action, the sign of distress brought her forthright from rest. Sitting upright would cause Beathag's hair to tumble across her face. Those few strands free of the braid it was placed in were tucked quickly behind the ears so that nothing was obstructed.
"Adam, Adam!" He still screamed even as his eyes were open. It took her a minute to capture the hand that clawed at his throat...his own. She put a hand to his head and made him look at her, pressing her lips gently to his to chase the last of the devils away from him. "Only a dream, mah love. Only a dream! Shh. Calm ye down afore ye waken the rest of the castle n' scare e'eryone 'alf tae death! Wot happened?" Cold perspiration touched her hands. Where he was restless, she was soothed. How strange that for once, things was not as they had been used to being. Far be it from any to have ever guessed the day when Beathag would not flail an evocative hand at the nature of a subject but draw in what needed to be heard.
Adam was silent. An uncharacteristic, deep silence that his wife couldn't abide by. Laying him back to the bed, she watched him in the light of the winter moon as she gently inspired him to tell her the troubles…
Sea-green eyes, though darkened a bit scanned the ceilings above, the flicker back and forth seemed to speak volumes in itself. “T’was nae a dream and a nightmare… I spoke tae an Ainglish self of me… and he bade mae care… care for those that cannae bae trusted…” his hand went to his bare chest, seeking the scar that would forever make him pause… “The vision said that yu grow more beautiful, and yer axe tis nay wot it use tae… and now yae wield an axe of a different style…” he glances at her then back to the dark ceiling… “And Ah a different sword…”
“Winter graews ‘ard, yet our enemies still prepare… and as we dae… tis my Father that escapes every roadblock Ah prepare… Ah dae nae wish tae be defensive, but offensive… baet the dreams bade me care who Ah trust…” with a soft glance her way… “The Pope comes ‘ere… baet Ah dunnae trust ‘im…” then the glance to the door then back to the ceiling… eyeing the darkness above as if he searches for a light… “Tis rumor, he wishes tae coronate us… baet I dunnae trust that… why would the Holy See coronate me if nae faer King o’Scotland… ‘e knaews Ah am nae o’religious stature… nor hold much belief… at least nae some man ‘as touched.” He shook his head side to side.
“The vision told me tae nae dwell in the afterlife… that in mae darkest hour, Ah should trust in you and Aodhan…” he looks at her… “As if Ah dun already… yae knaew Ah trust mae life wit yae…” then he rolls to look at her… “Ah feel that the babe yae carry t’will bae a girl… and William shall try to gain her…” he paused… “The end of the dream was when it said… If Ah should fail in the darkest hour… death would reign rue… and that’s when the specter grabbed mae by de throat… and Ah was chokin’ tae death…” he looks to the darkness in the ceiling again… “Ah shant fail luv… e’n if Ah should hold the sword again… and bae struck dead upon a field o’battle… Ah knaew that yae and Aodhan, shall rule well without mae… for our children sake… Yae must!!!”
Falling back into the pillow, his arm going immediately to his forehead. “Bessie Eve… Much ‘as occurred tae us… we naew live in a time, wrou’t about by our own… All Ah want’d was tae give yae a nice place tae live… and tae bae happy…” he paused and rolled his head to look at her… her features now highlighted by a candle… “Bessie, lass, Ah want yae tae knaew one thing… tha’ Ah luv yae… heart, body, an’ soul… ne’r minding wot cometh… mae luv shall always bae wit yae…” Then he pulled her down to him, into a kiss, ever so passionate, his hand caressing her form, measuring her stomach with tender touches, tending scars now healed… just to touch her… just to let her know he loved her.
They say many marriages are arranged and love knows home in marriage… These two chose one another… and laid foundations for others to follow… One pagan… one formerly of the Church… neither tredding upon the other’s religious path… yet again laying the foundation for the country to enjoy religious freedom, something that had not been allowed to happen before… Those two ideals of heart led to ideals more programmatic ideals of government… which erupted into a Gaelic Renaissance that would liken the realms of no Lord of the Isles before… mixing old ways with new ways of thinking…
Dreams? Nightmares? These two made their own choice for one another. Or did they? Were they ordained by fate to meet? To love? To give rebirth to a nation??
Adam's dreams were so vivid, so intense that Beathag wondered if he slept with his eyes open. The colors of his world were not too far from the brilliance of Skye itself. Did souls have messages for him? Her mother once said that a dream was the heart trying to relieve itself of knowledge the mind can hardly fathom. Or it was the mind, at last, trying to repeat over and over what it held until finally reason took hold. There was reason a'plenty, and a great deal of heart. She couldn't tell what it was. Instead, she offered him her arms. His body felt good to her, solid. For her part, dreams were seldom for the deep, darkness of sweet sleep held her firm. If she were given up to dreams - but no - it was Adam's time.
"We will gae on nay matter wot, but we shall gae on first taegether," she said with insistence to his fervor, "Ah've nay desire, Adam, tae rule alone. Dun nay talk on tha'. Of all else... wot can be said m'heart.." She sighed into his hair so the warm breath's gust could make the strands of dark dance over the peachy-pink skin of his scalp. One lock of stray strands tumbled down over her fingertips so she twined it around. Round and round it went, not taking but two times to twist it. It was so much darker than her own, and she wondered, would her child wear this crop of strands or hers? What eyes, what mouth. For all the hardship Maubrey blood gave them, it made for handsome men and the features of Davina made them romantic. Beauty was inherit then. Maybe if it were that simple, peace after so many generations of upheavel would be inherited, too. Her head looked down, her body lifted but before he could issue out any call of worry, she captured the Duke's hand to feel the child that kicked. "Be it a girl then? She is hearty, is she nay? The babe twists n' turns tae your voice often, here, place ye head there." She was the firmament he built his pillars on, and he was the walls that kept out the hardship of the world. Concrete was the evidence of their union, pressing to the cheek of the Duke from the flesh of the Duchess. His wish and her desire. His first child of flesh and blood to join what he had of spiritual bindings for Aodhan. As she offered him this chance to stray from the dream, a piece of reality caught up with her. Letting her brow level down, she muttered, "He will naught take this, nor any child again. He will die, before tha' time. By yer hand, or by Eamonn's, by a man of this family he will perish and we will ne'er think on him again when it is done."
Beathag and Adam made a choice to be together in free will, a difference from the choice to rebel against an arranged marriage or any such wish that hadn't been theirs. Still, one had to wonder if Davina and Murieall would have offered their children forward for the age old practice. She believed so. Had that been the case history would have enough proof to say that William would have vehemently denied it for it would not have allowed him to have what he wanted. He wanted to gain Murieall as a wife, not Beathag as a daughter. Still, long ago became now. Beathag had no love for the father by marriage she had gained, nor for any others than what were before her now or already dead and gone. Maubrey… He had consumed so much of their minds for months that she would be glad when he died. Aye, she wished for his death as ardently as she wished for the babe's life.
“Dreams that plague mae may bae a sign o’times… baet yae knaew mae… Ah forge our own way lass… All Ah pray is tha’ yae knaew Ah love yae… pre-ordained, pre-fated, or happenstance… Ah always ‘ave, since the first day Ah met yae…” the embrace slow, tedious, and long… not the usual squeeze of strength, but the loving side of the man that only she knew… Fact, he had loved before… but none like he has with Beathag. And no doubtedly, she would be the only love that he would take to his death pyre… whether that soon, or long from now…
Whispers in her ear were soft… “Skye bae yet again at war… Tis what Dmitrii continually says… Shall we ever ‘ave peace?” Gentle callous hand caresses her beautiful face… “Should Ah fall in battle… or captured and made for worse… Ah shall ‘ave yer love tae carry mae thru… Skye is drenched in the blood o’her kinsmen… and ours… Ah see me Ma, and Da, in mae dreams… lives wrought asunder bae dishonesty an’ lies… but my waking knaews we are nun o’tha’… and tis makes me proud tae bae yer ‘usband… baet Skye must gae on… should things get tae much ahrm here, Ah pray tha’ Eamonn can take yae all tae Eohmark… William ‘as always had much trouble securing the Lands ‘Eohmark… and Eamonn t’will bae the best tae watch o’r yae all… Dmitrii and Ah shall remain in Turas Lan… as will mae Commanders… to strike out agin aggression to all the lands o’Skye…”
His soft “Ssshhh” quieted her rebellious words against his commands… “Ah ‘ave seen it time and time again… A Gryphon, armed.. and a Bull, in his own blood red armour… facing one another, thousands around them… yet they face one another alone… and to the left… stands a shadowed figure… to the right, Dmitrii…” then he sighs and hugs her securely… “But no dream has explained the result… none that the spring rain puddles are stained red…”
"Ah only hope it is nay tae late," she whispered in rely, kissing his fingertip to soothe what he saw as rebellion, was indeed her agreeance, "We've all lingered tae long in hopes o' resolve but none 'as come. Mah fear 'usband, is tha' we may be trapped, or may nay reach as far as Eohmark. Eamonn is right, n' when we went but a few months afore..were it tae come tae this? Ah should've stayed. Now, look 'pon the size o' our household. There are many lives tha' hang in the balance. Many lives tha' have nay e'en begun." The children of the Court entered her thoughts now. The children that she told stories too, that she watched grow and change. Young lives that she did not want cut down, like Edme's.
Inside of her lay a child, too, that waited to be born. In the languid stay of his embrace she found a love that no one would believe either capable of having. A kiss she took, another, deep. "We shall find a way. Though yer mind. Ahdam, Perhaps it is best tha' ye seek a meanin' tae these dreams. Ye need ask, aye." No question was a fool's question save those that went unasked. Among their company now were religious heads and people on bended knee, but some things were ageless. Older than Christ, older than stone idols. The power of one who could decipher the meaning of dreams. Laying on her back again, she looked up toward the top of their bed, as if gazing off into the height of the room for a name. None manifested viably before the eyes, but one did come to her mind. Her eyes turned to meet his. For a time, she said nothing, until:
"She knew we would gae across the sea n' there our child would come to beh concieved Ahdam."
The world was frought with danger. In that, no request seemed too outlandish if it could be complied with. It was known that among them, the small woman who had never sought much for herself yet had the goodness of the world in her hands was among them. The twenty miles and so seemed a hundred now, but perhaps if it were crossed by her to Turas Lan? It had been so long since she'd looked on her face. If she held still, Beathag could recall the intense blue gaze, the dark hair, and the pale face that they were set against. She felt her calm, remembered her kindness, and even what it was to marvel at her recover from an illness or injury. Eirian. Friend to many, yet seeking the aid of no one. It seemed terrible to seek her counsel but there was no one else who had the scope that she did. No one would be unglad to see her come but once arrived it may prove impossible for her to leave. Selfishly, she vied for a chance to have all of her women together just one more time. In joy, or in sorrow, to take what was coming. "Ye should send Dmitri for her, if it can beh done."
“Aye lass… we should mabbe ‘ad stayed… but much has transpired since then… and we were needed ‘ere…” he caressed her face. “Tis mabbe nay too late… ne’r too late, if’n we take care and plan well… Ah say we load everyone on the Highland Duchess… and take her escorts to run wit ‘er…” he nods a bit at her resistance. “T’would scarce our ports, but ah feel we can hold out…” He smiles heartily at her… “Baet knaew this… Ah shant bae gaein’… Ah belong ‘ere… tis yae, Aodha, and the bairinn tha; means more tae mae… Gae tae Eohmark… Ah’ll bae fine ‘ere…”
Getting up from the bed, he opens the door and summons a messenger… “Wake Sir Dmitrii… get him ‘ere prompt…” then he walks slowly back to the bedside, taking a cup of water and drinking it. Over the rim, he sees her and closes his eyes briefly.
Dmitrii was roused from a deep sleep… his hands still ached from the burns he had sustained from helping Aegraine. Making mental note to see her in the morning… He dressed in his light armour, just in case… then made his way thru the winding corridors and up the numerous stairs to his Lordship’s bedchambers. With a soft knock, he waited.
“Enter…” as he wrapped a light robe of black and gold about his nude form, glancing back at Bess still in the bed.
Dmitrii entered and was surprised to his his Ladyship in her gown, covered mostly by the blanket… “Apologies M’Lady…” he begged as he cast his eyes upon the stone floor. With his head tilting a bit, he spoke softly. “You summoned me M’Lord?”
“Aye mae brother… Ah want yae tae travel tae the lands of Lady Eirian… and summon her in mae name… The Lady Beathag and Ah require her skills… care be taken on the roads… ride swift, spare no time…” he paused… “Take the men yae need… choices are yers tae make…”[/i][/color]
Dmitrii looked to Bess then to Adam… “I pray yu are well M’Lady…M’Lord…” then he listened to Adam speak… “Understood M’Lord…” pausing… his fingers playing at the neatly trimmed beard in contemplation… Then he looked to Adam as he dropped his hand… “I need none M’Lord… I can travel swiftly, inconspicuously alone…” then his arm went across his chest, his fist to his heart.
Adam looked to Bess, then to Dmitrii… “Sae bae it…” then as Dmitrii looked to Adam… “By yer leave, my liege…” and began to turn around… Adam spoke… "be careful Dmitrii... come home safe..."