Beka and James at Dun Charlabhaigh

[Men of Skye]

Continued from Scent and Sensibility

Stornoway and Dun Charlabhaigh

At the end of the gangplank, stood an entourage waiting upon the scheduled arrival of a guest... The ornate carriage of the Earl of Stornoway, doors open, was in the middle of the entourage... As James and Beka made their way down the gangplank, hats were removed, men bowed, and women curtsied... “Rise fine people of Stornoway... no need to offer such grace...”[/i] James said with a heavy French accent... “I am nay the King of France...”[/i]

“But MiLord du’Chere, tis nay offen we are pleasured bae such royalty... Tis the Earl’s greatest pleasure tae ‘ave yae visit...” [/i]the man paused as Lord du’Chere approached. “The Earl awaits yae at Dun Charlabhaigh Castle tae greet yae proper...” [/i]The man motioned to others to secure the Lord’s baggage to the carriage... another offered his hand to the Lady du’Chere to assist her in the carriage while the two men spoke... and then he too assisted the Lord when he was ready.[/color]

James smiled and followed Beka into the carriage. “M’lady and I would appreciate some time to rest... and maybe upon the morrow to inspect our holdings here in this fine land...”[/i]

“Why o’course MiLord...” the inhabitants jolted a bit as the carriage took off, heading for Dun Charlabhaigh...

Dun Charlabhaigh was a very old castle, well built centuries ago, and over the years expanded and refortified. Inside, the Earl of Stornoway lived and worked... though often disagreeing with the Mo’r Triath, he remained loyal to Skye and Scotland. The rooms that Lord and Lady du’Chere resided was a very lavishly decorated guest room. Most likely reserved for bluebloods should they visit. Servants would continue to see to their every whim, even to the point of agitation.

James and Beka lived the lives of husband and wife well; no one even suspected differently. Over the past few days, he and she had visited the warehouses and were even shown the secret escape route modifications that had been made, and shown the company ships in the harbour. On the third day, they were taken to the shipbuilding facility that sat on du’Chere land.

Looking at Beka, he smiled... “My intention is to let the Mo’r Triath build his ships, then request additional money afterwards... I’ll break his bank somehow...” [/i]offering an evil smirk.

Rebbeka turned admiring her bright blue eyes to the strong handsome man beside her. All this and he had a good sense of how to make a profit. "One day you will have wealth beyond all dreams."[/i] she spoke her finest compliment to James, in dulcet tones meant for his ears only.[/color]

Upon the fourth day of their trip, seeing all the decorations and the Griffin flags flying, James asked a store merchant what the razz was all about... “Dae yae nae kaew MiLord... The Mo’r Triath will bae crowned Adam I by the Papacy this very eve...” [/i]the man was all smiles... “Tis a goot thin’ tae...” [/i]mumbling almost to himself... “Great day faer Skye n’ da Nations, yessir...tis goot...”[/i][/color]

James gritted his teeth and took Beka by the arm... “Damn that man... why now?”[/i] he looks at her as he ushered her back to the carriage... “If he becomes King, he acquires all lands herein...” [/i]His guide in the shipbuilding facility was left outside as James slammed the carriage door.

"King? Is Adam of royal blood? Else how can a man become king other than by inheritance?" [/i]All Beka knew was how it was in France, for she had long ago forgotten all she knew of Holland. "There ought to be kings of finance and business...then see who would rise to the most powerful place."[/i] In her mind, this was the way it ought to be. Power to the genius who made the most money. "You are destined for high places; for power beyond a mere king." So the Marteau young woman believed; the world of business was more than one island, one land. It was of the entire world.[/color]

As the carriage jolted, it caught James unexpectedly... and this frustrated him more... and in frustration, he leaned over and began to kiss Beka fervently. Again, he would provide his “wife” with an unexpected and risqué bout of sex, heated by desire and fueled by frustration. Neither minded the reasons and both accepted the results!!

Rebbeka never knew what to expect from James and this was part of his fascination for her. In the carriage as it speeded along an uneven road, she went with him, whenever, into whatever he led. Her time with him was one wild ride and Beka loved every second of it. Live for today; she did. And it was awsome!

At Dun Charlabhaigh Castle, the carriage pulled to a stop, and the doors opened and the doorman bowed. Outside a man, dressed well, ornaments of an Earl around his shoulders… “Welcome Lord du’Chere… welcome to Stornoway…” [/i][/color]

James hadn’t cared who, or what, saw them making love inside the carriage…. It was only for him and her to enjoy…unless a voyeur was around… and they had just corrected themselves by the time the carriage jolted to a stop. When James stepped from the carriage, several people of the castle had gathered… some there to witness the arrival of a land baron, some to witness the beginnings of the destruction of Lewis-Harris as they did not wish invaders coming to the Isle, and there were those who were forced to show by the Earl… James’ sea green eyes scanned the people picking out distinct groups immediately.

Turning he held out his hand for Beka… “Lords, Ladies, my wife… Lady Rebbeka du’Chere…” But the unknown figure in the audience canted his head and watched... slightly confused….

Rebbeka descended from the carriage, gracefully and with elegant ease, considering what had been going on enroute. Her blonde hair was held in a pair of gold nets, two coils covering each ear, with a long braid down her back. A gown of light weight russet color wool hung in folds from gold clips at her shoulders, and caught by a golden chain belt about her waist. Sleeves, hem and neckline had golden embroidered leaves about them. A sweet, innocent smile flashed as she looked to James first, before observing those who had come to greet them. "I have heard so many nice things about this island and Castle Dun Charlabhaigh, it is good to be here at last." If facial expressions are to be believed, Beka meant every word. Wonder of wonders. One from France spoke English as if it were her first language, with so little accent.

The crowd was in awe of the Lady du’Chere... and James simply smiled as she took his hand and descended from the carriage... and her voice was angelic, mesmerizing the crowd. Oh definitely, she had been an asset more than once...

Rebbeka felt someone looking at her, that eerie primitive sense that tells us we are being watched, but did not turn in response to it. After all, a woman of her appearance had to be accustomed to being watched. It was her first inkling that something was different, something out of order here. The thought of Adam becoming King she held in a cloud, trying not to let it get free to dampen her spirits. Today was to enjoy. So far, she had just done that.

The hair upon James’ neck tingled... and it made him look around... Call it a sixth sense... intuition...clairvoyance... or astral projection... He could feel an unwarranted presence... and it made him a bit uneasy... but he hid it well, and smiled to Lady du’Chere. Then the two followed the Earl’s representative and entered the castle... all the designated entourage would follow behind them.

The man would watch the pair... the hood pulled down over his brow... “Well, well... isn’t that sweet...? The lass dun got her a new husband...” the man mumbled... the last few words came over gritted teeth.

Thru corridors into the Great Hall... and within, were tables lined together... The Earl was at the head table, and two empty chairs remained unfilled. James was led to one while the Lady was to the other. Looking at each other, Beka and James sat at the same time and gave attention to the Earl, who had risen, holding out his goblet...

“Lords...Ladies... allow me to welcome Lord and Lady du’Chere... we welcome yu with open arms...” Holding the goblet toward James, then the Lady... The people at the table rose and held out their goblets... “Here here... Huzzah... Oui oui...” came the various dialects... “Lord du’Chere... grace us with some words...” and the Earl sat as James rose.

“Earl...MiLords, MiLadies... I speak upon behalf of my wife and I... We are so glad to be here in Stornoway... a place who has come to be near and dear to my pocketbook...” he chuckled and the crowd began to laugh... “I came to inherit land here years ago, by fluke... hence is why I never took charge... because the shipbuilding facility is so vital to Stornoway... and yu all have wealth because of it... and so shall our arrangement continue...” he toasted the others knowing full well, he had lied blatantly and was able to smile as if he was doing them a favor...

The table began to ask questions of James whist he stood... and so they urged him to continue...

“Years ago, when I came to own fields near the sea, I never envisioned building ships... and never in my wildest dreams would I become a member of the French court...” the audience applauded... and he continued... “Which brings us to our visit... we, the merchants of various countries want a stronger alliance with the people of Stornoway... to line our pockets with profits... to care for our families...” and he looked to Beka, playing his cards... and with a smile to her, he looked back to those at the table... “let no country be the owners of trade routes... let no King control our interests... Let us do what we do best... and pay off the Kings to keep our guild strong...” Then pointing to each attendant at the table... “You... You.. you...and I... all have profited by the facility... let us continue... and enhance Stornoway’s trade to make us the capital of trade...” and with that James sat down to a thunderous roar of applause... and he winked at Beka, and sipped from his goblet...

James had just incited a riot of trade ownership... and professed that trade belonged to the Merchants Guild and not the Kings of any nation. Treasonous? Maybe... Disloyal? To whom??... A breach of faith?? doubtful to the many profiteers... Subversive? Most definitely... Criminal? Depends on who is the judge.

Conversations were abuzz at the table as everyone was eating... the seed had been planted... and now all he had to do was irrigate the field... He was overjoyed at the reception of his speech... and he wanted to take Beka upstairs to celebrate... but instead, he rose and had her accompany him... to the gardens, so he said... but down the corridor away from the crowd, he pushed her into a dark alcove and made love to her there. Arduous, passionate sex, in the earl’s corridors, to relieve joyous tensions... and when they were done, they returned to the table, as if the “walk” had done them good.

The guests proceeded into the dining hall, Rebbeka taking James’ arm as their host encouraged all to table, for he was proud of what they all were going to be offered here.

The tables were covered with white linen cloth, with a draw cloth of cranberry color over the table surface, extending over the edges by some seven inches. Silver candle sticks stood here and there, to light the faces of diners and their plates, for in spite of the hearth light, there were shadows In the hall, it being still spring and the sun set early yet. Places for honored guests rested upon a charger of silver while the plate itself was of polished smooth oak cut from one and the same round tree trunk. Silver serving platters, salt cellars and smooth glossy goblets sat awaiting wines that came with each course. Silver for the honored guest table and brass for the rest, each was going to have his or her drink, and as much as they desired.

At centerpiece a carved ship form, the nef, contained "cargo" of spices to add to any dish and sweetmeats to encourage appetite, if need be. Something was made with cinnamon and Beka smelled almond paste or other, like it.

When James and Rebbeka were seated, their host beside du’Chere, a page handed Beka a wide cloth napkin and sat a finger bowl of rose petal scented water near her. There was one plate provided for the du’Chere couple, as with each pair seated. One silver cup for the both of them. Each had a table knife and a spoon, for this was a fine house and little of this dinner was picked up with their fingers.

“There is soup of some kind, I can smell roast beef as well.” Rebbeka tried to guess what they were being offered before it appeared.

Then it came, a procession of pages with dishes held aloft so that their complexity might be better in view. A covered container of thick vegetable and wild game birds came first, its ladle in the thick spicy mixture. A dish of several large grilled fish was next, the eyes carefully replaced with springs of greenery. Several dishes of pork came, the pages turning around in slow circles to show off. Breads on trays were fashioned into shapes of animals, great dragon shapes and griffins; whales and sea monsters abounded.

Beka was wearing a bright pink gown made of silk brocade, cloth from the Far East she had sent, along with a certain perfume ingredient, so that no one might know what was in the shipment. It made up into a lovely gown, with the neckline cut low enough that it not only flattered her best but there was no fabric under her chin to be spoiled if she dropped a bit of food.

“I hope the roast beef arrives before I overdo with this delicious fish.” Beka knew she was being observed and determined to be a credit to James, in this first social gathering when both appeared together.

James fueled conversation, yet his eyes and ears never left Beka… There years together had not dimmed the fire between them… and she was beautiful, but tonight she was ever most elegant… well-seated in her position; and he loved it. Love? What was that? Was what he felt love, or was it professionally matched business arrangement. In his mind, he was fantasizing about them… and he wished the business at hand was done so they could retire… No wonder he would take her as often, whenever and where ever he could… and she never ever complained.

A tap upon his arm brought him back to reality as one of the merchants proposed a business venture to the Middle Sea route… then James began to inform the man of his plans, not not all, for the Strait… that du’Chere had negotiated a truce with Morocco… and du’Chere ships were able to pass unharmed.[/color]

[Men of Skye]

Expect the Unexpected

Later, when the two of them were alone, servants dismissed for the day, Rebbeka paused at the looking glass and inhaled all the courage she had, to actually begin a conversation with du’Chere. They communicated, if you can call it that, but actual discussions beyond business deals were rare.

James had removed his shirt and was washing his face. Rinsing his mouth out after cleaning his teeth... He needed to keep his charming appearance in top form if he was to continue to lure people his way.

"James?" She brushed her own hair, having dismissed the maid early. "Do you recall the night we met? The first time I saw you, on the steps of the cathedral?"

Wiping his face dry, he turned around facing her. “Of course my dear, I remember it as if it were yesterday... yu were so radiant and a bit hesitant...”

Facing him indirectly, watching James's reflection in the glass over her shoulder, Beka continued. "Then we went to your quarters. And you made an "investment"? Well, that investment came to term; there was profit." Slowly, afraid of how he was going to react, Rebbeka faced the man and gave him the news, belated, but she told him at long last. "We have a son. Born September twelfth, the year we met."

He canted his head... realizing all this was, in the beginning, an investment... and she informed him of a son... and he smiled... “A son?” he walked to her and put his hands upon her shoulders, massaging them. “Why did yu never tell me?” he squeezed a bit longer than usual. “That is a profit of a labor I can handle...”

"I went to France with the letter of introduction to the Court and it followed my Perfumery business flourished. I got so caught up in it; it was almost four months that I realized I was with child. It was France, dealing with the court; no one seemed to notice or remark upon it, if they took any note of my condition. Only my maid Annie knows; our child has had caregivers who only speak the best French language, so he will not have an accent." Now she hung her head, ashamed for letting this go on for so many months.

He stepped to her and his arms embraced her, kissing her neck... Stepping back, he lifted her chin with his fingers. “Be nay ashamed M’Lady... you did not know me... nor I you... but it was an investment we shared... and now, we are a family...” he smiled that charming smile.

"I am asking nothing of you. I am able to support him. It is only because he is ours and you ought to know before anyone else guesses." Her long loose golden blonde hair veiled her face from both sides, trailing over her shoulders, over her white linen gown. "James? I'm sorry. The ladies at court told me it could be undone. But I could never harm an unborn. Especially our child."

“MiLady, you are strong... a businesswoman in your own right... I know you can make things right on your own... and need me not... but I ask you now that I am allowed to be part of the family... to be involved in our son’s life.” His hands rubbed her arms up and down. “What is his name?”

"Albert." Beka leaned her face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent she would recognize anywhere. The perfumer lives in her world of scents, even to identifying her loved ones by their aroma. "You have the right to be a part of his life and I welcome your guidance, for who can steer a boy in life better than his father? He will be blessed to have both of his parents working together. Albert has your eyes, the same green and his face already resembles yours, with my blonde hair." Once the baby's blue eyes changed to his adult color, sea green like James', Rebbeka was concerned someone at court might see and guess. Du’Chere had the right to know, first of anyone.

James then got an odd look upon his face... Guiding her down to the stool by the mirror, he knelt down... “I have a confession of my own to make... and now that we are partners in more ways than one, I cannot see this union severed so easily...” Taking her hands in his, he looked at her. “I am not who I profess... I am not a royal French merchant... and my name is not du’Chere...” he watched her expression, then continued.

She listened to him, paying good attention to every word. Very serious and paying rapt attention to every word, Beka looked into James's eyes and took what he told her to heart.

“My true name is Maubrey... James Maubrey, son of Lord William... half-brother to Adam... Adam Maubrey, better known as Aberdeen...” he paused. “I do not want my son not knowing his true heritage... nor a bastard, like I was...” he looked down and kissed her hands. “If yu wish to part ways, I can understand... but this is a ruse I had to do... and it began long before yu entered my life. I just pray yu keep the information I gave to yu just now a secret, near and dear, only we know... none know about me... My mother is dead... and yu know the fate my Father met...” he looked up to her face and his eyes blinked. This was a secret... a secret many men had died knowing... James had eliminated all the others since his Father died.... this way securing his fate as James du’Chere... now, one more knew... what would become of them, the couple?

"We wore masks when we met, did we not? In the years since, layers of the masks everyone wears, have peeled away. I see you exactly as I did when we met. I love the man James, no matter what name others may say. What is a name but a mask, a label others affix to us? From me, no one will ever hear a word of what you have told me, James du’Chere."

Looking down, he raised his head slightly… “Yes, we wore masks…but that day, brought something new to my life. Something that I never expected… You !!” and smiled a bit. “I never expected us to be such as we have become… a force to be reckoned with… a family… and you… you loving me unconditionally…” he raises his head fully… “and I… who have never truly loved, now knows what love is… you give me something I never even got from my Father, and I am grateful. I do love you Beka… and would be proud to be the head of such a fine family…”

“I need guidance to raise a strong son, and you know what it is a boy requires to face life, more than do I. What last name shall he use?”

James smiled and embraced her… “We shall give guidance to one another… and raise our son to be the man he should be…” and he smirks… “Since we are man and wife, by French decree…” he winks… “We shall all wear the du’Chere name… for Maubrey bodes not well anywhere in the Gaelic Nations… at least du’Chere shall provide a base from which to build an empire…”

"I have mixed feelings about any who, on the one hand allowed me to have my little perfumery in their land, and on the other hand, hung my Albert's grandfather's head on a pike. Has the man no mercy? "

“Adam is a spoiled brat… who hated my Father… I know not what my Father did to him… and do not care. My Father gave me everything but love… Now my holdings belong to my half-brother… and I want it back.”

Beka went on to tell James where Albert was lodging, with the Lynch family in the countryside near Turas Lan. "The physician recommended I take him to my country house, so I did the best I could. You can see him if you wish, when we get back to town."

“Once back in Turas Lan, yu can inform him of the truth… and he shall abide with us… We are a family, no?”

Meanwhile, outside the castle, a man stayed in the shadows and worked his way past guards to gain a better vantage point. Now, he could see in their windows. Seeing them in the arms of one another, he slammed the Captains glasses closed and ground his teeth. “Damn you Rebbeka, why have yu forsaken me?”

He could see the pair discussing something, and embracing… and it riled him… anger, revenge, and rage boiled within… he would see the bytch dead… and her male courtesan castrated. “Yu have deprived me of a life… and did not defend it when I was down… now YOU, and yer manhood shall pay for your sins…”

Rebbeka and James were safe inside a well guarded castle, far from the presence and any thought of any who might think ill of them being together. In the dining hall, Beka was as a Magician's assistant, all dazzling good looks and graceful moves, eyes and smile flashed to get their audience looking away from James. All the while, he was in conference, making deals of international importance right there in the open great hall. None the wiser. Such a family this would be. Father deep into organizing all sorts of trade deals around the world, Mother brewing up counterfeit perfumes, and a child with the potential to be great. One has to ask, to be great at what?

Beka did not dwell in the past; she suffered when Jan was lost at sea and mourned her first husband for a year and a day. She paid his debts, left his family's home and went on with her life. Louis Marteau, the scoundrel, took advantage of her trusting nature and almost got her perfumery business for his own. She cursed Louis and let herself be enraged for a day and then worked to stop him cold. The past? Some of it gave her chills to have anything remind her.

The present is so wonderful! "I made a list of the ladies I met this eve and I will be sending each a box of products from my shop, things each might like best." The maid had not thought to draw the drapes so although the man in the shadows could not hear what the couple said, he had clear view of Rebbeka facing the mirror, brushing out her long hair. "Is that too commercial, too forward to send perfume products to the women from a business/social gathering? In France, such things were done." She looked to the strong man who in her view had all the answers, business contact-wise.

Again standing behind her, watching her in the mirror as she brushed her beautiful hair... “Yu are such an entrepreneur... maybe we should try that sample product in more ways that just perfume...” he chuckled, offering his sea-green eyes to sparkle. “Too commercial? Nay, for these scoundrels I am sure would steal yer drawers should yu give them half a chance...”

"Steal my drawers?" The idea was so amusing, Beka glanced over one shoulder, her smile about to break into laughter.

Then he nudged her a bit and assisted her in turning around to face him... a wicked smirk upon his lips... His hands would start to unbutton her robe as he knelt down... “I shant steal yer drawers m’Lady... only discard them for the evening...” he said in a depraved and immoral tone... and then he would commence foreplay in making love to her right there.

Rebbeka played at being shocked, just for fun; that lasted mere moments. There was no thought of drawing the drapes that graced tall twin glass windows in their room, here at the castle. Who would be out there but servants? Sheer white lawn delicate ladies drawers with lace and ribbon decoration were destined to rest upon a nightstand while their owner was otherwise occupied.

The man gritted his teeth as he watched his wife being made love to by a stranger... Why didn’t he just leave? Why would this man watch the scene as it unfolded before his very eyes?

Upon his knees, he worked the delicate underwear off Beka, with little resistance. His hands were soft, not those of a laborer, but one who hardly did manual labor at all... his sea-green eyes would veer from her bare form to her eyes, and offered her nothing but a smirk and a growl as kisses were applied to the knees, a nip at the thighs as he worked his way, sensually along her upper legs.

A voyeur? He watched the scene unfold as if he had paid for tickets... and with each heavy breath, his teeth grit until his jaw was sore. A hand would wander aimlessly between his manhood that hardened to his dagger at his belt. “Yu Jezebel !! You whore of whores...!!” he exclaimed loudly from his rooftop perch... “I’ll cut the manhood from the philandering male...” he growled... “Die bytch...” he said with a sadden, crazed tone.

"Pipe down, brother." a gruff voice whisper came from adjacent deep shadow, while two other men therein echoed that same statement. There were three total other men watching the uncovered window. "Guards are gonna find out we are watchin' the show them French court folk are givin' us."

"Be the more worse, them is man and wife." The second voice was younger and from the sound of him, afraid of being caught observing. Hands on watching the couple through their bedroom window.

"Aye." The third one just stared and kept watching James and Rebbeka, beautiful couple they were. "How would ya like it if that was you and yer woman ?" Wishful thinking on this groundskeeper's part. He spoke to one who growled first. The show continued.

The Rebbeka he knew was a shy young girl, so sweet and modest. Yes, she had been gifted with good looks since childhood and he had been attracted since the girl was fourteen. After a year of courtship, with her family's consent, they were wed. Time passed and as a wife the girl had remained shy, never confident in his presence, but loving in a child like manner. Today he witnessed a different side of the beauty and it was disgusting. This was not love. Love was a shy peck of a goodnight kiss on his cheek. A side-glance to him when she thought he wasn't watching. Love was modest. This? This spectacle was ...unholy!

The Rebbeka James knew in private was a passionate, sexually explorative woman... She would follow any lead he offered... whether it was soft and genteel, or hard and rough... regardless of the location, sex between them was glorious, and the vocalization of that fact was loud and clear... and neither walked away from a session without sheer elation.

If they had known others were watching, they most probably would have given them a show of just what acrobatics he and his wife could do... but for the time being, they were satiating each other as they usual did.

For upon the morrow, the pair would woo the people of Lewis-Harris once more. If only France knew what James and Rebekka did for themselves in the name of France.

Rebbeka got along well with the other ladies, using her good manners and the same social skills she employed as a shopkeeper and Perfumer appointed to the French Court. She was there catching attention of a gathering out on the dance floor, in a dance that was for women only. Beka had a way of getting the quietest wallflower on her feet to enjoy the music. While the spotlight was on his woman, James du’Chere played politics, one conference after another, this sly deal and another.

This was to be a grand era of good business and profits for all. That is what the good folks at the castle expected. Feast, friends, and fine wines; what could possibly go wrong? Oh there was a fly in the ale mug, to be sure. A small thing but one James could not ignore. Back in Turas Lan, there was a coronation shaping up.

"Tradesman to see you, sir." a page stood back to await James's reply. "Shall I send him round to the servant’s entry?"

James was dressed in the royal blue robes of the French merchant guild... His time before the mirror was spent in reassurance of his attention-getting details on his appearance. Then it was Rebekka’s turn... and James stood admiring his “wife” who would court the people toward their ways...

James’ negotiation skills were persuading people toward the segregation of Lewis-Harris from Skye, but remaining as a nation under the Gaelic Nations. His ownership of land, especially the secretive ownership of shipbuilding facilities in Stornoway; he did not plan on destroying the union, only to “buy in” to the Gaelic future.

Rebbeka had finished arranging her hair to drape over her left shoulder, contrasting its light blonde richness against a gown of plum brocade. Purple. Some would see that as a color better kept for royalty. It suited her coloring, the low cut square neckline framed a gold and pearl necklace that had been a gift from du’Chere. She turned slowly, admiring them as a couple, in the room's large looking glass.

The knock upon the door took his mind off Beka for moments... only to answer the page’s question... “Nay, allow him to enter...” shakes his head and motioning to the page.

The visitor had dark hair, loose hanging down his back, long uncut. He wore shapeless garments in the style of Morocco, as a common workman might. Sharp shaped nose and sharper keen blue eyes, staring their steely determined glare at James. The page backed out into the hall and made himself scarce. When it was just the three of them, a low over-controlled voice spoke to du’Chere. "Sir? You have something that belongs to me and I might be wanting it back. We need to talk, here, not in public. Unless it becomes necessary."

Across the room, Rebbeka let go of her hairbrush and it hit the tile with a clatter. She was almost speechless, but for these few words. "Jan? I thought you dead!"

James threw back the blue robes… his hands going to his hips, feet slightly spread apart, his weight solidly upon both feet. “Well, well… a man returns from the dead…” James smirks. “I have heard much about you Monsieur… sit, let us discussion your desires…” James offered Jan a chair, his arm swayed a bit to allow his hand to indicate a chair. “Tis we have a predicament, no?” the French accent more definable now. “I see my wife now has two husbands… I, and your family, presumed you dead Monsieur… but it seems you are no…”

James was frustrated at what was going on, but he displayed no emotion, nor frustration… “What can I offer you to make this predicament go away… for tis such an untimely event…??” He motioned for Beka to stand beside him… his arm wrapping around her as she neared… then offering Jan an evil smirk.

He sat, moving uneasily like one who coped with injuries to his trunk and limbs. Jan sat but he was ready to spring up at a moment's notice. "Vell, for one thing; my son. Where is he?" His son, the unborn child he left her, when taking his ship to the east. "Give me my son to raise and you will never see me again." He braced one hand on each knee, trying to look confident.

"The boy I named him Hans for your father and he is with your parents." With his parents, in their crypt. She had attempted not to speak the D-word when it concerned the infant. Beka steadied her shaking hands by resting them on James' shoulder. Pretty little white hands, neatly manicured, as if they did no real work and wearing an elaborate gold wedding ring. "He was born too soon, but he breathed a little." She had no idea how he'd respond to that. "And my Father? He lives?"

"The child was my son, was it not, Rebbeka?" He played that card to test, did this new man know all. "Your Da died six weeks out." Jan did not say why. Tapping his fingers impatiently. "Well then, give me a son and I will leave. Did you and this rich man make me a child to raise? I would take that in stead, if it is done already. If not, give me back the woman until I get me a son and then I have no further use of her." Jan was playing with the couple, for he loved seeing panic in Beka's eyes, James' stern stance of arms to each side and using the merchant's robe like a peacoke does its tail, taking up more space, dominating by that gesture.

Beka whispered to du’Chere, half hidden by his presence, looking at her first husband and how changed he was over the years. Where was he all this time, she cringed to know. This was not like the man she recalled. "L'homme a fait des folies." Mad, yes it did seemed Jan was not quite right. It was almost time for them to go into the Hall. Jan's timing was definitely poor.

"And if you are going to leave your drapes open like this, put a few candles about. You do know you have an audience out there." There were others watching the three in the room, Jan had witnesses in case something happened to him.

James’ green eyes narrowed and focused on the man… Give me a son and I will leave? He thought. Odd… was this man insane…? the only thing James would give him is a quick trip to hell. He knew this man would NEVER go away. As Beka spoke, James simply slightly nodded in agreement. “Monsieur, I shall give yu the manchild… but now is the most inappropriate time… meet me at the Cathedral on the morrow, just before midnight… there is a ship to Paris that leaves shortly before dawn. I shall bring the manchild, and yu can be on yer way and leave us free and unabridged…”

James looked at Beka, hoping she would play into his lie to the man. “Tis the best for us my dear… giving him the manchild will free us from all binds…” James displayed no emotion, no expression, save the stone cold look of a businessman. Looking back to Jan… “Do we have an accord?”

"No! Please… do not take my child! Jan I beg you! James do not let him take my child!!" Rebbeka played her part out well. She knew their son was not here in Stornoway or even on the isle of Lewis. "James? How can you allow him to do this?" She turned her face away from Jan and shielded her eyes with one hand. "I waited for you, I hired searches when you went missing... then I grieved for a year. What more do you want. Jan?" She was careful not to make her eyes red with real sobbing, for they had a reception to attend.

"I will call him Hans and he will become what I choose." The man with long dark hair stood slowly, enjoying watching Beka suffer, or so he thought. "the morrow then, after midnight. I will be there, sir. Come alone with the child and once I have my prize, you will see me no more." Jan began to exit their room but turned as he went out the door. "And you will never see your child again , either." He was rewarded with a shriek and sounds of sobbing from the wife he now abandoned once more. The idea of how she was going to suffer every day she was with James, knowing that she gave up their son to bribe Jan, almost made him giddy with joyous revenge. "Until almost midnight upon the morrow." And he slipped into the dark corridor, quietly.

He nodded in agreement with the man, while his arms enveloped the “grieving” woman. “The morrow, before midnight then…” as he watched the man leave their quarters. Not trusting the man, James walked to the window and drew the drapes… then went to the door and waited, only to look at Beka and smirk. After a few minutes, he opened the door and scanned the corridor, closing it and smirking.

As he approached his “wife” he embraced her and laughed softly into her neck. Whispering, he spoke into the material on her shoulder. “He will get what he deserves…”

They descended the stairs into yet another ball room… and same as the previous night, they wined and dined those present, setting themselves up as a couple dedicated to making Stornoway as strong a business capital as Turas Lan. Dining and dancing intermixed with business discussions. Land deals and offers of shipbuilding came from the various nations represented in the Hall.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

The Amhuinnsuidhe Castle Ball

The afternoon of the second day, they were notified of an engagement in the evening for a guest, the member of the royal French court… Later on, they were provided with baths… and a schedule of events.

Dmitrii watched the servants bring pail after pail of hot water into their room, and he canted his head at Aegraine offering her a wicked smirk. “I miss home…” he spoke in Russian to her… “Tis a place we are so comfortable…” as he began to remove his jacket and shirt after the servants were done.

Ae tested the water and it was nice and warm. In spite of the small bathing tubs, it was almost luxury. "I miss my own bath. And Marie to pour water over my back." Opening her jacket, Aegraine tried to see if she had any bruises showing from the incident on the road to here. "Take a look and see, Dmi. It feels as if my neck is going to change colors." This time she was glad no servants stayed to assist.

Leaning against the wall, he watched his beautiful wife remove her clothes and slip into a light housegown, as the water was being delivered. As soon as they had finished, she asked him if her neck was beginning to discolor. With that he walked up behind her as she dropped the gown from her shoulders. With a soft kiss to the bare skin, he whispered. “It shall bruise, but not too bad…” and he began to massage her back and shoulders, the touch exciting him.

"We are going to meet someone from the French Court? If it were anyone important, wouldn't they be attending the coronation in Turas Lan this week?" Soap and warm water washed away more than the dust of the trail, it renewed her spirits as well.

Her words made him quirk his facial features, almost into a pout. Then he picked up the decorated invitation from the Earl of Stornoway. “Seems so, we are invited to a ball in the honor of a Monsieur du’Chere, a member of the French Court.” Little did anyone know, that Dmitrii spoke French fluently, being raised in Paris as a youngster.

The bruise on her neck showed already in the front and sides so bad Ae tucked a silk scarf about like a high necked under-blouse would be and tied it in place with a bit of ribbon. It seemed to go with her bright green dress embroidered along the cuffs, neckline and hem with black silk embroidered Irish chain patterns.

Dmitrii would wear the black leathers of the weaponmaster; the leather oiled to a shine…It was not the formal clothes that a noble would wear but it was elaborate for a knight or warrior, especially of the Skye Court.. the Griffin Emblem mounted in silver upon his left breast. He simply sat on the bed, half-naked, watching his wife morph into a beautiful butterfly, for the evening’s engagement. And he smiled a genuine smile of happiness.

The pair descended the stairs as if they were royalty… and as they stepped up beside the heralder, he handed the man their invitation and soon their names would be announced to the crowd below. “The WeaponsMaster and High Engineer of Skye, Lord Dmitrii and Lady Aegraine Zurban…” and as on cue, they would begin to step down, stair upon stair, until they were on the main floor, people greeting them as they begin to mingle.

From across the room, James du’Chere and his wife, Rebekka, paused at the sounding of the introduction of the Zurbans, and James would look to Beka with a cant of his head... His men had not reported in, and as much saw the Mo'r Triath's representatives, he grit his teeth. Soon they would make their way to Lord and Lady Zurban… Bowing deep, James’ hand went out and immediately returned to his chest, just over his heart; and in a soft French accent… “Monsieur, I am James du’Chere, Royal Merchant of the Great French King, Philip IV…” and as he rose, he introduced his wife… “And this is my beautiful wife, Rebekka…”

With formalities out of the way, and proper greetings offered to all parties, James started small talk regarding Beka’s business in Skye, and how well it was doing.

Dmitrii could be formal when necessary… he was not totally ignorant of the required proprieties. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his boots and clothes easily recognizable as the man from Turas Lan, the renown warrior of Skye. He had conversed with the man in English, not letting him know he spoke French.

In the conversations between Aegraine and Rebbeka, and James and Dmitrii, the Kievan Rus warrior would catch guiding conversations of the couple in French…. And immediately, Dmi could tell that they were not who they portrayed, and it sparked a curiosity. “M’Lord, I appreciate your time, and tis good to meet such an important person… but we must excuse ourselves…” his hand touched Aegraine’s in such a manner to let her know to follow his lead. “By yer leave M’Lord…” and with a permissible nod from the Frenchman, Dmi and Ae walked away.

Out of earshot of anyone, Dmi pulled Aegraine behind a large stone column. “Those two are not who they seem… tis something in his voice and eyes that seemed sooo familiar… and his speech seemed so forced…” and with that he gave a shrug. “Yu and I will do some investigating… I need yu to check the records at the Barrister of Titles… see if any land was purchased, sold or gained in the last five years under that du’Chere…” he stroked the fine beard upon his chin. “I will check the Church and the Earl’s records of the same transactions… and I will see just what this du’Chere has been up to…” Looking around making sure no one was listening. “We do not have much time… the coronation is in 4 days…”

"I can check titles easily enough, as I will say I am looking to see what property we might need to have. Perhaps making the owners a good offer, ourselves." Ae looked around before she spoke the next part. "I am not so sure that Rebbeka is married to this man; my Mum told me the perfumery owner had a Dutch ship's captain for a husband, him lost at sea."

One hand she held at the scarf over her neck, still getting shivers from thinking what had almost happened to them both. Aegraine had not understood when the other couple spoke in French, for she had refused to learn, so that her father could not send her to the English court. "She was nice to me and we spoke of embroidery and gave me this little vial of a scent which she says promises 'endless attraction'." To Ae, the woman seemed shallow; interested only in surface beauty and fine things, for Rebbeka's gown must have cost a small fortune and that was just one gown. There was jewelry to match.

Dmitrii nodded at what Ae had said as he rubbed his chin out of habit… “Sounds good… Then we have a plan…”

A page came along peeking around the column, to see what the couple was doing there. Ae gave a start and looked over her right shoulder, as she stood close to Dmitrii. There were coins to be had, the lad had found out, when he discovered a couple kissing back of a column or in one of the hall alcoves. Had the French man not given him a gold to "get lost"?

Aegraine’s glance away from him caused him to stp talking, as if the conversation was ending, and turned to see what, or who, it was. Seeing the lad standing there, Dmitrii waved him on… “Privacy please…” and watched the lad walk away. Looking back to Ae, he smiled, his hand touching her cheek as if he was sweet-talking his lover. “Trust no one here… too many flock to the Frenchman. I feel he is up to no good…”

"Perhaps he uses money to gain favor with the people here? I am sure the woman with him is very wealthy, from what my Mother has told me. All manner of bank dealings back at her shop." Aurilla heard and saw a lot, filling in for the owner Marteau, while Beka was away at the court in France or elsewhere. Portrait painters had appointments with the owner, a man and wife artists, but Aurilla did not see the picture they painted. Try as she would, Ae's Mother had not discovered anything wrong with the perfumery shop. It did pay well. Ae looked up adoringly at Dmitrii, an easy thing for her to do. She noticed the same page headed away, off to annoy some other couple.

"Four days and we have to spend two of them the traveling back. I am going to make sure to watch who gets on the ship to Skye, when we do, too." It was easier for her to take note of others aboard, as no one much noticed her. Ae was non-threatening in any situation. She had gifts of special weapons made especially for her, jewels of the Weapon Master's own design. The engineer felt secure, self defense wise.

His hand caressing her cheek, he leans close, as if to whisper sweet nothings… “Be wary of the woman… trust her not especially, for I fear she is a spy, of sorts. And he, he promises much to people… those things he does not control…” Dmi’s steel gray eyes looked behind her, as he knew she watched behind him. These two were a perfect match for all sorts…

"She will never guess I do not trust her." There were precious few Ae did trust beyond family and a few close old friends.

Dmitrii smiled as if nothing was conspiring… taking his wife’s hand, he led her to the dance floor… they would not allow the du’Cheres to nullify their plans to enjoy the evening… especially since things were cut short… So on to the dance floor they strode… and injected themselves into the festivities in honor of the French merchant by those powers in Stornoway.

The next dance was the Pavan, also known as the Padoanna, a slow, processional dance. Having originated in Italy, Dmitrii was a bit unfamiliar with this but he was still willing to try.

He noticed the beat was in double time, and the steps were simple and basic. He did know that after the Pavan was danced, it seemed to be traditionally followed by the Galliard. Having watched the dance for a bit, he found that there were three basic steps… and he pulled Ae into the dance. First they took a single step on left foot, single step on right foot, then a double step on left foot, sometimes moving either forwards or backwards. Then after the three steps, a step forward with the left foot was taken, then their feet joined together by moving the right foot forward… repeating the previous step, putting the right foot forward first… walking forwards, they took the left foot forward, followed by the right, then the left and then step forwards again on the right, re-joining the feet together. Again repeating the previous step, this time taking the right foot forward first. Then repeating the single and double steps from the beginning, this time moving backwards. Again and again they repeated the steps over and over fitting the song played.

During the dance, whenever the feet joined together, he would glance at Aegraine who was determined to learn it quicker than Dmi, and smiled. Finally, they were enjoying themselves. But Aegraine’s agile ability to learn quickly and her aptitude as a dancer gave her the advantage.

Dance came to her as natural as breathing. Ae let go of her all business attitude and enjoyed herself this eve. Why not? Such chances came about so rare that a dance was not to be missed. The music set the pace and she found the two Zurbans danced together beautifully, she thought.

When the dance ended, Dmi laughed and hugged his wife. He did not care if people were amused at their ability or not. After the hug, both applauded along with the other dancers.

As expected the next dance step was the Galliard. The music started and he began watching the dance, he noticed it was quite a vigorous dance, similar to dances in Kievan Rus… mostly improvised, with typically five steps in a right, left, right, left, triple time cadence, characterized by leaps, jumps, hops, and other similar figures… making it an athletic dance, one he and Ae would enjoy.

Again, he winked at her, took her hand, and set his stance to dance. The main feature that defined a galliard step is the last two beats consisting of a large jump, landing with one leg ahead of the other. This jump is called a cadence, and the final landing is called the posture. The movement patterns starting on the left foot, then repeating it starting with the right foot. The pattern may lasting twice as long, or more, which involved 11 steps, the Kievan Rus dance involving 17 steps. The pair quickly fell into the routine of regimented steps, followed by a jump, more steps, a leap, more steps followed, by a hop, then more steps… but what Aegraine did not expect was the special step called the lavolta, a step which involves an intimate, close hold between a couple. Dmitrii then lifted Aegraine into the air and turned about 270 degrees, and then let her slide slowly down his form, all accomplished within one six-beat measure… It was quite a scandalous dance with some intimate moments. Some places did not perform the Galliard because of the intimacy, but it was played here and Dmitrii and Aegraine danced it.

Again they went thru the routine time after time, until the music ended upon the lavolta, and As Dmi lifted her again and turned, this time holding her for a pause in the air, looking at her with that very familiar wicked smirk, the beard crinkling in all the right places. Then he allowed her to slowly slide down his form, even more slowly this time. Just before her feet touched the floor, when they were almost face to face, and he could not resist a passionate kiss. It was quite a sight to those present. The applause erupted even more heavily this time. Were they applauding the dance, or the lovers upon the floor, captivated in a lover’s moment, ignoring all around them.

After the kiss, he set her down and finally noticed the applause, and he smiled and bowed a bit to those observing. Oh yes, they were having fun… for now the intrigue had taken a backseat to the present.

Life cannot be all work, swords at the ready for defense and meals cooked in the open, living in camps and on horseback. "When we are back at our home, Dmi, perhaps we might have a little party to celebrate your friend's coronation? With music and dancing in the large dining hall?" To her, their home was as grand as any castle hall. She looked up at his smiling face, so handsome to her, neat trimmed beard and all and saw the center of her world. Not her Dad or the church or her career as engineer, but only Dmitrii.

The banquet lasted well into the hours after midnight… and in the enjoyment of the evening, they had not noticed the Lord and Lady du’Chere. As Ae and Dmi filled their stomachs, danced, and drank a bit, the couple in question had been of no interest. Now Dmi looked around and found no du’Cheres at all… and in a shrug he told Aegraine. Then they continued their enjoyment away from work.

Finally after the third chime of the clock, the banquet was diminishing, and the pair retreated to their room, only to find solace in each other’s arms. This was their time to find one another, enjoy the evening and let daybreak come was it would.

[Men of Skye]

The next day, James met with the Land Registrar and ensured all land grants from the night before were recorded. He also formulated his plan with the him to succeed the Earl as heir apparent should something happen to the elderly man, according to the Earl's will published a month earlier. Business signs soon began to be displayed, as the du’Chere Empire began to take shape.

That evening, James came into the room and with one hand closed the drapes… smiling at Beka, he then kissed her cheek. Upon this occasion, he did not hug her as his arms were full of material. Dropping it upon the bed, he began to formulate an image of a child, an infant wrapped in a blanket. “Mother, meet yer child…” he smirked. Reaching under the bed, he unrolled another set of material, one that covered his sword and a dagger. Taking the dagger, he stuck it in the “baby’s” blanket.

Once everything was readied, he began to pack everything. Glancing to Beka, he smirked… “I have made arrangements for a boat to take us to Skye shores, from there we ride straight overland to Turas Lan. I want to be in attendance at the Coronation.” Then he gave her a very evil grin, and a shrug. “Don’t you want to watch my brother be coronated as King?” followed by the very same grin.

"I would love to see what a court is like, this far from France. Your brother? Does The King-to-be know he has a brother?"

James smirked, shaking his head. “Nay love… not yet… That what makes this so pleasurable for me… remember, I spoke of a half-brother. Well good King Adam is my half-brother… he and I share the same Father… the one he murdered and piked his head in the public square.” James gave her an evil smirk and his eyes spoke of revenge.

The prospect of going to Turas Lan was doubly good for Rebbeka, for when there she was going to introduce Albert to his father, James. "It is going to be good business, then? Adam king on land and you Ruler of the Seas?" Trade wide as the known world fascinated her and she had big ideas of exporting her scent products simply everywhere.

James laughed… “That’s my girl…” he smirked. “We shall be rulers of our own empire…” Turning, he moved away from her. He opened the window to allow a breeze… sitting upon the bed he looks at Beka… “We play a desperate hand for a dire situation luv… do not be squeamish… much is at stake here…” He seemed to be waiting for something. “I have set the foundation for the takeover of Lewis-Harris…” pausing… “I have established the declaration for becoming a separate nation under the Celt union Adam has established… Wouldn’t yu love being a Duchess?” and again he offered her that evil grin.

"Duchess? Me? Of course - I am with you, no matter what." It was not going to be a sure thing, for du’Chere did caution that gamblers take a risk; what did he mean by "squeamish"; Rebbeka wondered but glossed on over it, for she would know in time. Or not. She had been contented, not really happy married to Jan, for the man was exacting and expected all to obey the law, the church and himself, without question. She took another glance at the baby-sized wrapped up blanket and steeled herself for what she guessed might occur. In this, she allowed an old memory in review.

It was the first time Jan had gone away and left his fifteen year old Beka bride and returned back home. When he came into the door of their little house, Rebbeka ran down the stairs and went to wrap her arms about him, "I missed you so!" But he gave her the signal to be silent, and she was.

"Now, do you not know how to greet a Captain home from the sea, wife?" He was cheerful, smiling and she was unclear what he meant, how to greet him. Beka hesitated so her husband pointed to the floor before him and motioned for her to get down on her knees. Confused as to what he meant, she made the wrong guess. Jan pushed her away.

"What! No. I meant your confession! You will confess me anything you did or thought that was sinful, that I may do your penance and then as God forgives me for not keeping my wife on the right direction, I will then forgive you. Begin."

She thought about that day and it eased her conscience. Mad? Now, perhaps. Back then, fanatic, in her view. Today, he still judged her behavior.

Outside, the changing of the guards roused his attention. Standing at the window, he saw the structured changing of the guardsmen, and knew that soon the midnight hour would be upon him. Turning to Beka, he embraced her… “Things shall be better, I promise…” Then he picked up the material and cradled it into his arms. Leaving the room, he made his way down to the streets, disappearing into the darkness.

Things would be better. In her heart she knew it was so and that if anyone made it so, it was James du’Chere. He did not make her attend Mass. He never required her confession to him. He knew her heart and mind as well as she did herself.

His journey to the Cathedral was by way of the secret Castle passages, dark alleys, and sidestreets… where he would not be seen. He had arrived early, just ahead of Jan… As he stood in the shadows, he repositioned his free hand inside material, as if cradling the baby’s buttocks. The other hand over the outer edge. Seeing a figure moving to the Cathedral, James waited.

Jan moved up the stairs of the Cathedral, but James whistled softly, luring Jan into the shadows… As the man neared, James smiled. “As agreed M’Lord… her manchild… he is young and manageable.” Taking Jan’s mind off what could occur.

At Jan’s request to see the manchild, James nodded and neared him… Just as he was to hand over the child, James’ outer hand caught the man’s collar and yanked him near him. The other hand forced upward from underneath the material, the dagger’s blade tearing flesh as James stabbed the man in the abdomen, and upward into his chest, ripping the stomach and lungs with the forceful shove. Then as Jan sank into James’ arms, the material falling to the ground, James twisted the dagger, the blade grinding about internal organs… As Jan went limp in his arms, James dragged Jan deeper into the shadows and laid him behind a tree and retrieved his dagger from the man’s chest. “No longer shall you be a demon for my wife, or in my life.” Then he took Jan’s dagger at his hip and placed it in his hands.

Moments later, James had repositioned himself in the shadows, waiting on the next part of the plan to develop. Taking the material from the ground, he wrapped it about his shoulders. Just then another figured emerged from the dark streets to the Cathedral steps… another soft whistle luring the next victim into the shadows.

“Lord du’Chere? Why th’ intrigue milord?” the man said. James nodded and began to back up… and in a soft accent he spoke. “There are those that would undermine our plans M’Lord…” he motioned to the Earl of Stornoway to come nearer. “We must not let those people know of our plans…” and just as the Earl neared James, the master of deceit lunged at the Earl, dagger in hand. Stabbing at the man’s torso, in an attempt to end his life. The pair began to wrestle and fight upon the ground. The material on James’ shoulders had fallen to the wayside… and as the Earl started to get up, James covered the man’s face with it, blinding him… and James stabbed the man several times in the chest and abdomen.

In the end, James would stand unharmed, the Earl lying upon the ground. Dragging the man into the shadows, he positioned the dead men as if they had killed one another. The final touch of the positioned art was the dagger James used to kill both men into the Earl’s hand.

There, the plan had come together and executed. Now Jan would be accused of the Earl’s death… and James would be free to formulate a family and his status as Earl of Stornoway… and to later proclaim Lewis-Harris as an independent Nation under the Celt union.

James changed his clothes wrapping the bloody garments in the material he brought, and disposed of by weighting it down with rocks in the Cathedral’s cesspit. Then he made his way back thru the shadows and alleyways to the Castle. Back thru secret passages, ironic was the fact that the Earl told him of the passages. He re-entered the corridor by their room. Opening the door, he turned and locked the door. Leaning against the door, he smiled at Beka… “Our future is safe…”

“Our future is safe…” she ran to greet him with open arms. "And that of Albert! How can I ever thank you enough, James?" Now the young boy did not have to be hidden at a serving woman's farm or in a carefully guarded apartment associated with the French court.

She did not know all of what he had accomplished that evening, but was sure of one thing; Jan was not going to bother her again. To her credit, at first Beka imagined that James had obtained a boy child from some poor folks eager to find it a better life and that child was to be given over to Jan's care. Therefore, he would leave and was going to leave them alone, for good.

Once she saw the blanket and that dagger, Beka knew better. It told her du’Chere had found a more permanent solution. Now they could be the family neither of them had before, brought closer by little Albert. "You are the most darling, clever man of all!" It was not flattery, Rebbeka believed in James and in his bold ways to make things right. "Ask what you will of me, anytime. I will follow your direction, absolutely." She meant even things beyond their personal relationship, dangerous things and stuff of shadow and secret, as he had accomplished this night. She did not ask details and he had not offered answers. With trust and love and sex, deeper and deeper Rebbeka Marteau was bound to du’Chere in every way.

Her words, her embrace, the intrigue and deceit that filled the night… his actions in the deaths of Jan and the Earl added some imagination to the already heightened senses… Her body against his sent a sensation straight to his loins. He began to bite at her neck and breasts as he tore her clothes asunder… and she his… blood of men lying dead in the shadows mingled with sweat from them as they began the intercourse of sex and murder. Animalistic copulation on the table and floor, while the scent of sex filled the room. A union in hell bore down for these two…

Meanwhile, in the streets of Turas Lan, men were affixing banners and flags, along the streets where the procession would take place. Soon the Mo’r Triath and Mo’r Okesula would be crowned King and Queen. Little did they know, each one’s path to the future would soon formulate into crossing one another.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

Alarms were sounded just after daybreak… guards were running hither and there… Bells in the castle rang out a somber tone… slow and timed, as if someone had died. Dmitrii rose and donned his warrior’s clothes, saddling his twin blades of death, peacefully upon his back.

As Aegraine wakened, Dmi looked at her. “Luv, something is happening in the Castle grounds. Remain here, I shall find out what is going on…” the r’s and w’s being bastardized byt eh Rus accent. The concern displayed on his face, but his positivity remained in those steel gray eyes.

About a hour later, Dmi returned, the door closing behind him, his words causing concern. “Pack our belongings, there has been a Murder in the first degree, Ae… someone has murdered the Earl… and the government is calling for the du’Chere man to step up and take the position as was the Earl’s desire… we must catch the first ship home and inform Lord Adam immediately.…”

[Men of Skye]

James and Beka spent the whole day in their castle quarters. The death of the Earl will resonate throughout the land… and in the Forum chambers for sure. He had spent months, if not years, planning this… and soon, he would gain profit from his efforts.

By the noon hour of the next day, he was summoned to appear before the government representatives of the Isle…men from all classes, all localities. When he arrived, he was in his finest attire… and he had butterflies in his stomach… which could easily be transformed into sorrow at the loss of a “dear friend.” James could have been a grand performer, or actor, had he not been so greedy.

It was two days prior to the Coronation. James entered the Stornoway Forum Hall; the din of political conversation filling the semi-round room. The Last Will and Testament of Abrahim MacDonald, Earl of Lewis-Harris was handed to him by the island’s senior barrister. “Thank you MiLord…” As he was introduced, James approached the announcer and shook his hands; then standing at the podium, his hands resting upon the edges as a preacher in the pulpit, looking out over a congregation. Raising his hands to quiet the members… he smiled that charming smile.

“I rise before you all, in this forum, the Parliamentary representatives for Stornoway and the surrounding cities of Lewis-Harris, for the purpose of announcing to the governing body, that I have satisfactory evidence that, by a solemn edict, upon the murder of Abrahim MacDonald, Earl of all Lewis-Harris, do declare the issuance of his Last Will and Testament.

I, James du’Chere, a close friend of Abrahim’s, and former Royal Merchant of the French King’s Court, under these circumstances, of course, my functions here have been designated by the words of the Earl’s last Will n’ Testament. It has seemed to me proper, that I should appear in this convention to announce that fact to our associates, and I will say but very little more. The occasion does not invite me to go into argument; and yet it seems to become me to say something on the part of the affair I here represent, on an occasion so solemn as this.

A great man who now reposes with his fathers, and it is his Last Will that I, as executor of such, be proclaimed, by edict, the new Earl of Lewis-Harris… and it is Abrahim, who has been often arraigned for a want of fealty to the Union, often advocated the doctrine of nullification; the right to nullify, or invalidate any ducal law which that this Isle has deemed unconstitutional, because it preserved the Union. It was because of his deep-seated attachment to the Gaelic Nations, his determination to find some remedy for existing ills short of a severance of the ties which bound Lewis-Harris to the other nations, that Lord Abrahim advocated the doctrine of nullification, which he proclaimed to be peaceful, to be within the limits of ducal power, not to disturb the Celtic Union, but only to be a means of bringing the decision before the tribunal of the clans for their judgment.

It is known to all representatives gathered here, who have served with Lord Abrahim, that he has for many years advocated, as an essential attribute of Island sovereignty, the right of the Isle to secede from the Celtic Union should a King be proclamated. Therefore, if I had not believed there was justifiable cause, as stated in his Testament; if HE had thought that Lewis-Harris was acting without sufficient provocation, or without an existing necessity, I should still, under the last testament of the great man, because of my allegiance to the Union, have been bound by his action. I, however, may be permitted to say that I do think that he has a justifiable cause, and I approve of his act. I conferred with the people before that act was taken, counseled them then that, if the state of things which they apprehended should exist when the convention met, they should take the action which they have now adopted.

I hope none who hear me will confound this expression of mine with advocacy of the right to remain in the Union of the Celtic peoples, and to disregard the Earl’s last testament obligations by the nullification of ducal law. Nullification and secession, so often confounded, are indeed antagonistic principles. Nullification is a remedy which it is sought to apply within the Union, and against the agent of isles. It is only to be justified when the agent has violated the obligation, and a isle, assuming to judge for itself, denies the right thus to act, and appeals to the other isles of the Union for a decision; but when the isle themselves, and when the people of the isle, have so acted as to convince us that they will not regard our rights, then, and then for the first time, arises the doctrine of secession in its practical application.

Secession belongs to a different class of remedies. It is to be justified upon the basis that the clans, and thus the isles are sovereign. There was a time when none denied it. I hope the time may come again, when a better comprehension of the theory of our government, and the rights of the Celtic people, will prevent anyone from denying that each Isle is a sovereign, and thus may reclaim the grants which it has made to any whomsoever.

I therefore say I concur in the action of the people of Lewis-Harris, and the testament of the Earl, believing it to be necessary and proper, and should have been bound by their action if my belief had been otherwise; and this brings me to the important point which I wish on this last occasion to present to the Forum. It is by this confounding of nullification and secession that the name of the great man whose ashes now mingle with his mother earth has been invoked to justify coercion against a seceded Isle. It is a perversion of terms, at least it is a great misapprehension of the case, which ducal power may make war on a foreign nation. If it be the purpose of gentlemen, Lewis-Harris may withdrawn from Skye; but there are no laws of the Gaelic Nations to be executed within the limits of a seceded Isle remaining within the union of the Gaelic Nations. We find ourselves in the condition in which Skye has judged us, in which our safety requires that we should provide for the maintenance of our rights in the Union. It has been a conviction of pressing necessity, it has been a belief that we are to be deprived in the Union of the rights which our fathers bequeathed to us, which has brought Lewis-Harris into our present decision.

Then, Lords, we recur to the compact which binds us together; we recur to the principles upon which our land was founded; and when you deny them, and when you deny to us the right to withdraw from a ducal government which, thus perverted, threatens to be destructive of our rights, we but tread in the path of our fathers when we proclaim our independence, and take the hazard. This is done not in hostility to others, not to injure any section of the Gaelic Union, not even for our own pecuniary benefit; but from the high and solemn motive of defending and protecting the rights we inherited, and which it is our sacred duty to transmit unshorn to our children.

I am sure that we shall invoke the God of our fathers, who delivered them from the power of the lion, to protect us from the ravages of the eagle; and thus, putting our trust in God, and in our own firm hearts and strong arms, we will vindicate the right as best we may.

A letter shall be formulated, signed by me, the new Earl of Stornoway, and offered to the Griffin of Scotland, Lord Protector of the Gaelic Nations, that Lewis-Harris, shall succeed from the nation of Skye and become one additional nation under the Celtic Union.”

Then James stood back from the podium, and watched those in attendance discuss the news.

Three hours later, after many discussions and a question and answer period, the leader of the forum stood sideways at the podium. “MiLord du’Chere, the forum has voted… We select you as our new leader… We have assigned a title of Lord James du’Chere, Duke of Lewis-Harris…” then the man took James’ hand and shook it vigorously. The crowd applauded with an uproar of “huzzahs”.

James smiled… and waved his hands. “Good people of Lewis and Harris… I promise you that Stornoway… and the entire Isle shall benefit from your decisions… I am but a businessman… and as a businessman, I guarantee things shall change for the best of the Gaelic Nations….” Then he stood back and allowed the celebratory events unfold.

From her place leaning upon a windowsill, out in the corridor, around the corner from the room's entrance, Rebbeka waited anxiously, barely moving for over three hours. She leaned on the window sill until it imprinted a wood-grain pattern on her elbows. Her feet had pins and needles in them, from not moving an inch. Then finally she all could hear was the roar of the crowd. Through closed doors, it rumbled and a muffled roar of happy sound seeped out into the hallway, echoing from one wall to another. "This has to be good." she clasped her hands, so anxious to hear what went on it the meeting. Over three hours, the perfumer kept her vigil. Soon she would hear some kind of news, so Beka went back to their room to find a gown suitable to mourn the old Earl's passing.

And before the day was over, the signed and sealed letter of succession was on its way to the Mo’r Triath…

James realized that secession from Skye was much easier than seceding from the Gaelic Nations completely. Ever since gaining the land thru the auction back in 1330, his plans had been in politicking the people of the Isle... using the trade banner as a foundation. Over and over, James travelled the isle and spoke in townships, villages and cities, saying the same thing. “The Gaelic Nations in its present condition, is as a "monster country" that suffers from "the hubris of inordinate size..." and he continued to propose that the Celtic Union be "decentralized into something like a dozen constituent republics, absorbing not only the powers of the existing states but a considerable part of those of the present establishment...”

He dismissed nationalism as an "infantile disorder" and remarked, "I do not believe that nationalism will prosper as a serious political movement, but I do worry that it will prosper to the point of becoming a serious political distraction; a distraction from the imperative that the people of Lewis-Harris now face of constructing their own autonomous political movement that can take back their nation rather than assisting the new underclass and the globalist ruling class in breaking it up. A union of nations under which participants may not at any time leave is in fact not a union, but a forced syndicate of subservient states. Sovereignty—the ability to choose your own future—requires the ability to self-determine and choose with whom you will (and will not) affiliate.”

James knew that if Adam disapproved of the talk of secession, that he would send forces to the Isle to impose the Protector rule. He did not want his efforts destroyed by armed aggression, for he had no army. Deceit, lies, and politics would be his weapon.

James left the forum a happy man. So far the plan was progressing just as he had envisioned it.

Back in the Castle, James entered the room. There he found Beka looking thru clothes… clothes appropriate for mourning. He could not help but chuckle when she informed him of her purpose. “Mourning? We should be celebrating…” Forcing her to stand erect, he turned her around and ripped open her bodice… “We celebrate wench…” offering her a wicked smirk.

Pushing her to the bed was easy… hiking up her dress was fun, but removing the undergarments were teasingly pleasing. As he stood before her naked… “Celebratory sex now… mourning the Earl later…” he spoke in a gruff voice as he climbed atop her with a wicked smirk.

A solemn occasion called for pretended solemness… James stood before the congregation and told his stories of the last few years with the Earl. Some true… some embellished… some pure lies… But none other knew different. Beka and James stood near the pulpit of the Church where the Earl lay in state.

After the funeral, James and some leading political figures were discussing the soon-to-be coronation. “The Lady Beka and I will attend the coronation in the Earl’s stead… As the newly proclaimed leader of Lewis-Harris, tis my place, is it not?” and all the men agreed… He simply looked at Beka and smirked.

Later back in the Castle bedchambers, James had the servants move his and Lady Rebekka’s belongings moved to the great bedchambers once inhabited by the Earl and his courtesans. “Strip the sheets and bring fresh ones…” he told the servant…. And when the servant left, James looked at Beka… “Lady Rebekka, would you like to be escorted to the Coronation?”

[Men of Skye]

"The coronation to be held back on Skye? I should love that! I can go with you? And the folks there will call us by Duke and Lady?" She had been honored James was the first to use a title for her. Beka wandered about their new quarters and looked in the cabinets and opened doors to see what rooms adjoined. "Will we be living here? I was wondering where Albert might be staying? If there is a room nearby for him and his caregiver." She wanted the old woman from France, the boy knew well, to keep the child's accent pure.

The servants had finished the beds, and cleaning the room as quickly as they could. Meanwhile James and beka settled into their “new” quarters. He could see how excited she was, and even though the servants were hurrying, James ushered their from the room even more quickly. “Of course, the coronation of my half-brother… and silly woman, of course, yu shall accompany me.” he smirked. He took her in his arms… “Oui Mad’am Rebekka… we are the new Duke and Duchess of Lewis-Harris…” he spoke in French. “Everything shall be fine m’lady… OUR son, and his caregiver, shall live with us, here in Dun Charlabhaigh Castle. Albert shall have the best of everything… and he shall be taught by the finest teachers…” again he spoke in French.

Until this moment, Rebbeka had no thought of dwelling anywhere but at her little shop in Turas Lan or in her luxurious apartment in Paris, or her home in Grasse. Now she was part of a little family, with James and Albert. Where she lived was not so important any more. Only that she now had a real family mattered.

"They will announce us and all, like in back at court?" Of course, back in France, no one announced her as she had no title there. But Beka had observed how things worked, at a distance. The elevation of du’Chere's status hit her; it was real. They were going to a coronation. She lived in the whirlwind of James’ accomplishments.

He took her waist with his left hand, the other took her left… and he began to waltz her around the room, to the music in his head. “Oui, they shall announce us at Court… the Griffin Court… and we shall take our place in the Parliament as well…” he again spoke in French… “Lady Rebekka and Lord James du’Chere, Duke and Duchess of Leòdhas agus na Hearadh…” he repeated the introduction twice… once in French, once in English…

"Now those are words I like hearing, in any language." Today Rebbeka's accent was improved, perhaps by the time she'd been spending in du’Chere's presence. They danced together as if the pair of them had practiced their bodies in sync to the imaginary music.

This was the modern times, 1333, when a woman's status was that of her husband, in almost everywhere in the world. Oh, there was Eire and Ulster, but Beka did not consider where she had never visited. Who knew what heights James was capable of attaining? And she was here with him at this critical step. "Perhaps one day you will be King? When the countries of the world honor he who rules the sea trades?" It was a rare thing for Beka to skip into the future but when it came to James, she saw great things in the time to come. There was no one like James du’Chere. She was the pretty bit of cloth tied on, a tail trailing a great kite's flight into uncalculated heights.

They danced about the room, arm in arm, and he smiled when she spoke. “Me? King?” he chuckled… “Mayhaps my dearest Beka… mayhaps…” He spun her around and back to his guiding leads waltz about the room, his head held high… “King James and Queen Rebekka…” he spoke sternly… “We could handle that heavy crown…” and he spun her to face him. “My luv… together we can go far and do much… just love me…”

That was his weakness… her! If any kink was in his armour, it would be her. How could the woman have gotten so close to him? Was it her stalwartness? Her beauty? Her passionate love-making? Was it singularly one thing or the combination of several traits? She would not know what he thought, but she knew something was upon his mind as he just smiled that charming lil smile, though this time it was something slightly different. His sea-green eyes darted back and forth taking in every eyelash… every line of her face.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

About a hour later, Dmi returned, the door closing behind him, his words causing concern. “Pack our belongings, there has been a Murder in the first degree, Ae… someone has murdered the Earl… and the government is calling for the du’Chere man to step up and take the position as was the Earl’s desire… we must catch the first ship home and inform Lord Adam immediately.…”

"They are certain it is murder?" Her thoughts flashed immediately to the two on the trail who had tried to stop them from going to this castle. "We are ready to depart, whenever the ship sails." Their saddle bags and duffle bags sat near the door; they were as good as on the way.

Most of the day was spent investigating what was happening in Stornoway. While Aegraine was investigating the land holding registers and church records, Dmi was at the forum… and he was amazed how the hands off attitude by Adam had allowed du’Chere to work his magic. Though when Dmitrii finally got to meet du’Chere, he saw something familiar in the man…. His eyes. Eyes he had seen twice before…

Ae got lists of property recently transferred, which included garden plots, cottages, grand homes and even a warehouse or two. Each transaction was copied in her exacting clear handwriting, in chronological order for Dmitrii to review. Theirs were two sets of eyes with one purpose, this day.

In a hurry, Dmi made his way back to the Castle and was waiting for Aegraine. And when she finally entered the room, she was met with… “Luv, yu won’t believe this….” His voice cracking under excitement, his Rus slipping in and out of the conversation.

She had an armful of parchment scrolls, each with detailed lists of property deeds and settled them all onto a table. Dust from the records room still clung to her sleeves, the smell of that closed records room in the church lingered, even after she left the place."I have found too many deeds processed and within the last two weeks."

He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up at his beautiful wife… “Oh really?” his steel gray eyes narrow and his lips quirk. “I shall lay odds that they are in the Frenchman’s name. Possibly signed over from the Earl ?!”

Dmi had made some kind of discovery and from the sound of it, this was a find, indeed. "What it it? I cannot wait to hear."

He shakes his head in disbelief… “Amazing! The political forum of Lewis-Harris, just voted for secession from Skye…” he shakes his head again and looks at her… “They voted to secede from Skye and become an independent nation under the Gaelic Nations…” he leans back, his arms behind him, his hands flat upon the bed, still shaking his head in disbelief…

“But what is most concerning is, that they made the Frenchman, du’Chere their new leader, and proclaimed him a Duke of Lewis-Harris… Apparently, he resigned his position on the French Court to take this…” he sits up and rubs his bearded chin. “Something is not right…”

"Can a man be both, leader of Lewis-Harris and a man of the French Court? Would that not make the islands under French rule, if he did not resign?" She had no idea what role du'Chere played in their court, before.

Standing, he walks to Aegraine and reaches for the scrolls. Laying them out, he begins to read… then taking a piece of writing coal, he writes down a chronological order of events. Reading it aloud, he and Aegraine discover that du’Chere purchased several parcels of land in 1330, and over a couple of years, helped finance the building of Stornoway’s shipbuilding facilities, along with Adam’s funding for Gaelic advancements. Then in the last three years, du’Chere and Abrahim MacDonald purchased several deeds along the coast from Stornoway… and Amhuinnsuidhe Castle. Then in spring 1333, the Earl of Lewis-Harris made James du’Chere the executor of his will and sole beneficiary… Then there were the documents with the Earl’s seal upon them about secession… almost identical verbiage of what du’Chere spoke in the forum. Dmitrii rubbed his chin again. “Seems that the Earl and du’Chere have been cohorts in a master plan for Lewis-Harris all along… I wonder how the Earl’s murderer plays into this?!”

Continually Dmitrii reviews all the documents Aegraine had collected. “Hmmm… it shows here that a Lady Rebekka Marteau was married to du’Chere in Paris, May 1332… but she has owned a Perfumery in Turas Lan since 1330… and has traded with France often…” he shakes his head… “All this feels anomalous, but according to all the documents, they are legal and binding…” he begins to roll up the documents. “Adam must see this love… we MUST go home…” He looks at her and smiles, his hand caressing her face. “I am so sorry our vacation is cut short…mayhaps we can return someday soon…”

"She does own the perfumery. I heard that Rebbeka Marteau is paying my father back on a loan for it. Mother told me the lady got permission to open a business from the Queen-to be, when she arrived in Turas Lan." It was no secret that imported perfumes and other fine sewing needles and so forth had come in from France. "The Marteau woman is supposed to have another shop and perfumery somewhere in Paris, I think. Where my black silk embroidery thread came from." Of course this Rebbeka would not tell other ladies that she secretly married someone, for it would make for gossip. Aegraine had sewed a design of Celtic chain about her new green silk gown, neckline and cuffs with threads bought from Marteau.

"We can return and take our time on the island? I would like that, Dmi. And stay at the little house once more too?" She had such good memories of the tiny cottage on the west coast of Lewis. Her work here was done; the harbor now had a system for letting folks know when a ship was coming in with cargo, defensive earthworks housed canon and watch posts were set to see far out, what was approaching, with the aid of imported from the far east spy glasses, thanks to Martin lePower imports. Dmitrii had done his work with the training of troops stationed there. It was not too soon to return, in time for the coronation.

"Dmi? What if this du'Chere is not going to be friendly with King Adam's rule? Have I strengthened the defenses here only to have them used against us, in future?" The memory of what she had done for a certain castle back in Ulster, her best tricks and devices were used against the folks trying to recapture their own fortification from once overwhelming numbers. Caught in her own traps. "Perhaps all will be well. I hope the new Duke will have severed ties with France and make good alliance, owing to Skye." Yet it gnawed at her. The thought, "What if I have done defense work to strengthen it against Skye?"

Dmitrii took the information Aegraine gave him in stride. Collectively, he would have sufficient information to provide Lord Adam. Packing his bag with clothes, and helping Aegraine with her surveyor and construction equipment… he looks at her as both bent over the trunk. “We shall return m’luv… we shall deserve the break… but no work next time…” he gave her a slight smirk.

“I know not what the Frenchman has in plans… nor if he will become a homesteaded foe… or a valuable ally…” he stood erect… “Aegraine, yu shall nay worry about the future… it shall not be like Ireland… I do nay think Adam will do armed aggression against his own land…Maybe as King, he can influence the people better… we shall just have to see…” his hand caressed her face. “Besides… we know the defenses…” then he smirked… the trimmed beard quirking in all the familiar places.

By day’s end, Aegraine and Dmitrii were on the ship bound for Turas Lan… Information in hand, the pair would alert their King… as to prevent being blindsided.

After two days onboard, the ship finally edged next to the pier, then with a thump, the bow and stern was secured with large ropes, the anchor dropped, and the gangplank lowered. The pair was immediately ushered to the Griffin Castle for an audience with the Mo’r Triath.

By the afternoon, they were back at home, readying for the procession the next morning.