Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on May 24, 2008 14:25:33 GMT -6
Letters
Inverness didn't hold the same sense of purpose it had when the men had first left for battle and Bess was determined to lend her hand in all matters she could find. One day after the next bled into one another until little mattered. Not sleep, nor food, nor reprieve from the exhaustion that hung on her back until it weighed enough to bring her down by force alone. None had known the woman's private hell. None could know. How do you explain the crumbling of the mountain or the bare bottom depth of a sea proved finite? The crushed matter became little more than unbound essence thrashing headlong into the wind amidst the storm of old words, whispers, and promises that still had yet to be kept. "Adam." Beathag exhaled his name and breathed in the salt air to sting her lungs. "Dun leave me, Adam." Aboard a ship she sat, to watch the gulls dip into the expansive horizon painted in amber streaked velvet pitch. A man came to deliver her news of men returned and the battlefields that the Devil already haunted her dreams with. Amidst the men returned on foot were bodies wrapped in sacks. The cold kept them until family could claim the remains of a proud son, father, or brother that told them of good fortune to come upon return. One of those sacks had been given her in place of a kiss. A cold, stiff body instead of embrace... only for it to be learned that fate and fortune conspired to haunt her. The body was not his! Even now the man could see her eyes, hollowed with tears until nothing else was provided but the cut chasms in color shifting hue. Was it sorrow that garnered them blue? "Some of the men returned wonder if you might employ them when rest and strength are theirs again, mam. They be lookin to retire, some do, others only to thank ye lookin' after their family if you'd their cousins employed or such. Mam?" Beathag looked at the man with innocent messages to convey and threatened to expel him from her presence with but a raise of hand. He shrinked back; a man heard his bones shift and crack when he dared call her crazed only that very day. Sighing, she shook her head and only showed him the note. "This tells me I shan't be 'ere long, friend. Tell them nothin'." Words, words. She heard them and in her hand held ones that seemed in her lover's hand, but only his face would reveal that to her. So soon, oh so soon, she planned to leave.
War – the never-ending avenue to dreams… nay nightmares… for the sounds of metal clashing in anger, the tormented cries of pain from the wounded and dying… and the laments of the beloved followers of those who trailed not far from the battlefield. In war, not only do the warriors die, or is wounded, but the families die a little bit with every passing day their beloved is gone.
But the same can be said for the warriors, soldiers, and knights, on both sides, for pain, suffering, and death knows no boundaries, limits, or causes. The combatants lie in their rough beds, catching fitful sleep when they can. Though denied by many, each and every one lies awake wondering how their beloved ones at home are. Were they safe? Where they starving under seige?
War – only the country’s leaders decide to engage or not. Some are forced to make that fateful decision by the ones who choose it to extract a vengence, a power, or a bounty. The soldiers, knights, and warriors, all, deep-down, no matter how much bragging they do, actually want peace. Unless their soul is dead and that is all they desire is to kill or be killed. No one loves peace more than a warrior.
Adam had raised the visor of the helm as the last of the English either fell under sword or ran. About him stood a mere 5 and ten men… out of over 100. It was a small battle… one of little consequence… except to the ones actually on the field. He nods to his left, the elder man, standing proud in his white surcoat, it too, stained red… thought the red cross stood prominent. The older man nodded back. A silent thanks and the usual offering of mead or whiskey back at camp.
Bodies were removed from the battlefield, as Richard and Adam sat in the tent drinking mead and telling stories from the field. Squire and healers were tending their wounds as they drank and laughed. Occasionally taking deep breathes in silent regard of their own fallen brothers. A clank of metal cups, slurping sounds, as the two men hurriedly drank and then continued their discussion of the future. The Templar was telling Adam of a beautiful place called Skye. He made a vow, to offer Adam sanctuary, should the English overrun Scotland. With a laugh, Adam reflected on Bess' words about Skye. A twinkle of the eye, and a twisting of the arm to ensure the capability of movement was not hampered by the cut upon his arm.
No libation was in hand for the living, dying, or the dead. All three kept to themselves as the woman reread the words over and over that spoke of him wishing to make the crossing over the sea as the boatmen did. "Come o'er the waves, the ship a royal bed. O'er the sea to Skye." Her voice was hoarse; no nourishment or drink had slacked the burning of the body for three days now. Three days since the decision had been made, and soon it seemed to not matter that she had packed up the berths of The Highland Dutchess and the Aberdeen with all the meager possessions her family had garnered. Clothing, books, carvings, banners, and items of sediment shared passage with horses, weapons, and the manifest of where cargo was to go. Each man in her employ had been given a choice: "Ye may stay with me iffn ye wish, those o' ye tha' came. I will pay ye well and if ye take port than I will pay ye a stipend long enough tae last ye through the whole o' Spring. Iffn ye wish tae return tae the port o' the Highland king way will be set for ye. But if ye stay with me we are gaein along the coast, and then tae the inner Isles. Beyond tha? Pay the boatman for ye ferry tae the mainland for I shan't come off it for a long while. I either gae tae be made a wife or tae mourn as a woman that ought have been a wife, now only one in a widow's memory."
“Ah be far ‘way from mae Bessie Eve… ah shant make a decision like dat withaet her ideas. Soon dis will be over ah tell ye…” He drinks from his cup… “The English daent have the ‘eart faer it nae more… course they fight, but much more run than ever befaer.” He looks at the older man and breathes deep… “Ah lost more ‘en 5 and ninety taeday Richard; 5 and ninety I tell ye… far tae many for nae where near the main battle.”
Interrupted they were, as a messenger was introduced to Sir Richard. In the usual formalities between a league commander and a messenger, Adam simply listened. Information about the Highlanders moving back north to Inverness… a peace settlement was arranged. Inverness proper had suffered her own suffering but details were sketchy at best. Sir Richard was to parallel the Highlanders until safe passage could be found back to Skye. Adam, looked to Richard with concern.
His word had reached the woman who cried out in the darkness when no one could see her. Little by little, until the tears in shadow were worn in the light with no regard for her saw her anymore. Scotland would open her many arms to welcome back the men she offered along the borders to Fate with bated breath. Why could she not be among those that could finally draw breath without agony? Aodhan and Edme did as children were apt to do in these times. Drawing inward, they invented a world no grown man or woman had a right to comprehend. Wooden figures of men, horses, and castes told stories of heroic victory that eased the pain of the loss they knew through their mother. Unknowing of where it had gone or why it would be there, a messenger moved through the gathering place of men common and uncommon to deliver another message meant for Adam's hands. The parchment had been folded and unfolded in moments of indecision, the crease deep, the penmanship of shaken fingertips. Stiff wrists made ink splotches to spell out the words. "For you, Sir. Tis important fer the woman tha' hired me slapped the arse of the horse n' said tha' it was either tae gae to you or be burned if ye were nay found. Beggin' ye pardon o' course…"
Once the messenger was gone, Richard sat back down and the squire handed him a filled cup. “Adam, you and yer men, will come with me. If yu wish to go back to the Highlands, then I shall help ye… but I think, until what we know the Highland King will do… tis best ye come to Skye with me.”
It made him chuckle; the English accent heard spoke for the Gaelics. But then Richard was English and so was he. “Ah wish there was some way ah could get word to Bess where I am.” Both men nodded knowing well, that communication between the divisions of the army was thin at best. “Ah know mae Bessie Eve… she’ll find me. We’d be bethrothed ye know.” He held up his wrist showing the leather and hair entwined to make a bracelet.
The older man telling the younger that he had no choice but to come to Skye. The two men laughed and joked but they both knew that they were alone now… especially since the main force was moving back toward Inverness. English to the north… English to the east…English to the south… Skye to the west. It seemed that the Highland King and the English had gave him no choice.
"Sir, Sir! Ye are Adam yes? Sir! " The boy, for that was what he was, was fifteen and thin as a reed. His presence was easy to detect amidst the bulked Highland men in his company. He heard accents - English, Gaelic, the English tongue on Scot's Gaelic's speakers, French. Amidst them his voice called out again as he came closer to the table where two men congregated. It had taken him a week only to come south, and another week besides to find a name that remembered Adam Aberdeen of the knights… heading toward Inverness and other cities farther North. Pushing through winter rain, at last he came to a place where a name, a living body, and face did justice to effort. The note in all of its contents was messily settled on the table for him to read as he gulped for air. "Sir, Sir you… are Adam... Aberdeen, they told me to look for ye... that ye hadn't died but… might have moved… here! "
Nigh on two months… in the stretches of eternity, that was no consequence. Two months to a man who was in love deep for the first time in his life, it was a long time to be away from. The letters had come… then faded as the month… then came the snow… in some places higher than their knees. Then came the heat of battle that left red stains upon the white snow. Richard and Adam sat and drank as they did at every lull of battle.
Once again interrupted by an excited youth. The guards allowed the boy passage once they heard the name Aberdeen. Before the guard could announce the boy, youthful exuberance found a letter placed on a table before the knight dressed in black surcoat and trousers, the gold gryphon upon his chest. “Aye lad, ah be Adam Aberdeen. What is this?” Adam opened the letter and read it silently. A sigh then laughter as he handed it to Richard. “Ah told ye M’Lord, she’s a blessing… a woman after mae own ‘eart.”
Richard laid the letter upon the table… then gave Adam materials to write with. Adam smirked and dipped the pen to write…
The he folders the letter and seals it with a gryphon ring he had made. Handing it to the boy... "Ride hard and fast... deliver this to the woman who tasked yu... and let her know Mead is awaitin for her in Skye... if she wants me still. Now go...make haste lad." Then laughs as the boy grabs the letter and disappears.
The boy had time only to drink broth, eat a slice of bread, and wash it down with a half cup of cider by the time the quick hand scrawled out the words that would give the lady who awaited any news some succor. "Aye sir, aye!" he said as he made ready for the cold night again. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder to say. "This is right good, Sir Adam! Right good n' well. She looks afright sir," what else could he say but the truth. "M'uncle says she eats lil n' sleeps less n' has e'er since march from Inverness to the South. Crew worried she may not make the voyage in one piece afore they took up anchor. Ah'll ride hard... m'thinks she should already have taken port, in fact... iffn so I'll come back sir, tell ye I promise." [/b][/i] [/color]
The Reunion
The trip to Skye was long for the few men that survived the southern campaign. Adam rode beside his new friend, the loyalty born of battle. The two men had entered TurasLan, one, a hallowed knight returning to his people, the other a stranger to a new land. Adam held the black and gold standard proud and rode into the city. He was not sure if letters reached Bess... but the trip to Skye had been a strategic move as the English had closed the gap between them and Inverness... Rumors abound had set the tone for them back in the Highlands... dead and gone, Highlander bodies either returned with the main body or left upon an English field.
Rumors were as close to truth as the Highlander herself could take; written letter and voice of messenger conveyed the fate of corpse collection for herself and Kaelyn. No matter how hard you run, how daring your plan, or how well you hide, Death will collect those he has deemed to meet their end. Consequences, logic, and feeling clashed in the head and ravaged the body until the two met an impasse to let Time be remedy to their works. "He is gone." The words uttered day to day. Stubborn appeasement of work ethic and living for small ones were all that distracted her, body near to joining the dead until the personal effects of letters were delivered. Encased in ribbon gingerly pulled aside, parchment caressed and words cherished as mind conjured the voice to match them, until one read. "I have gone to Skye, our forces have closed in. I pray this reaches you in time, and you do not despair nor worry over much." This day matched the collection of the body, a body that was not his. How quick or how long or how far? Little did time, distance, or circumspect detail mean save only to suggest the amounts needed in formula used to conjure the truth. Either his lips she would kiss and arms collapse in to, or she would bury him.
Several days later, the man known as Adam Aberdeen lived above the tavern, letter after letter written and sent by paid courier to his beloved; His evenings spent pen in hand. His thoughts of love and family far exceeded what he could ever write in a letter. His heart had sunk to the bottoms of mead tankards as he thought she had chosen to stay in the Highlands… Richard was his only rock… the Templar never doubted the love that the pair shared… each time Adam would be despondent, Richard would simply reach over and touch the charm on the man's wrist… Adam smiled and agreed with the elderly man. One evening over a usual tankard, Richard told Adam of ships scheduled from Inverness to Turas Lan… Adam simply smiled and the two toasted what may come.
Fingertips turned round and round the braided rope of Adam's hair and leather promise upon her wrist. It felt soft, still, bristling in the wintry air until it didn't feel as human anymore. Bess didn’t feel as though she were mortal more caught between worlds, pinned, as if between the starboard side of the ship and a rocky cliff. Purple dusk infused with strands of diamond glitter shone in the etched hillside. Going up, up, a spire into hills making a Scottish Babel in imagination of Celtic countrymen. Turas Lan. Her ship was eclipsed by the grandeur of the sight before her. But did this sight hold one, one more for her? Aodhan lingered at the railing and spoke, "So Adam didn't go to sleep forever, mama?"
The man was dressed in black… the gold Gryphon upon his chest… the helm in place… the black flag, the golden gryphon fluttering in the wind. Ship after ship, he appeared at the docks, dressed in the same manner as the day he exited Inverness. The waiting had been hard; but even harder when the passengers he sought were not on them. Still Richard persuaded the man to be adamant, to trust in the love he had… The white horse pawed at the dirt as yet another ship sail was seen in the far horizon.
"I dun know, son. He may be... or he may be sleepin' ere. I hope he is awake," Bess replied, "I hope he's awake." Because if he was awake, she would revive. If he were collapsed? She would die. Evidence presented the conclusion no other way. She couldn't eat much save broth or bread, she couldn't sleep. Fits were common and now she began to see the mists form shade of entity the world had long since done away with. Pushing on, she too held the railing as the dock came into view. Edme was in the arms of a crewmen, for her own were too weak. "Ready to make anchor!" (d)
Richard, dressed in the battledress sat upon a bay stallion, his presence merely in support of his swordbrother and friend. The helm stayed in place as Adam fidgeted in the battle dress of the Gryphon… He raised the visor as he saw the anchor of the ship splash in the bay… the longboats rowing out to meet the ship. “Sir Richard… ah kin nae longer wait up here… ah mus’ gae tae the docks… ah pray tae wha’ ever God be listenin’ that mae Bess and children be on ship…” Richard laughed inside his helm… as the male in black turned the white steed and slowly rode to the docks. By the time, he arrived dockside, the longboats were on their return trip.
Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Praying Over and over again the words. The mists seemed to talk to her of these very matters. Was she at last going mad? Perhaps, and she laughed at the irony as croaking voice called, "lower the gangplanks, tie us down! Send... our things… tae what 'er the nearest tavern be. M'daughter, give me m'daughter." She had to admit that she simply didn't care what became of the body physical or the mind's ability to fashion sense out of sorrowful ruins! Edme clung to her mother, as if expecting to be dropped on the deck, into the sea, or onto the streets of paved stones. Aodhan remained close at hand to take the one offered him as the family descended at last. Longboats were pulling in alongside tall seaside masters; men serious in armored attire, fisherman. Some holding passengers come from the mainland. "Mama, let's go look for him now? " He tugged at the threads hanging from her vest. Men passed by with trunks and crate, on their way to make purchase of rooms for themselves and their Captain. In the swirl, somewhere she began to swoon. "Mama?" Aodhan opened his eyes wide, "Mama, are ye sick again? Does your belly hurt… Mama?" He would get remedy by shrilling out for his mother over and over again as the mists began to choke her, drown her. Colors swirled together until she came to her knees with Edme crying out at the harsh jarring.
The white destrier pranced along cobblestone until it arrived at the wooden track toward the long pier. CLOMP….CLOMP, CLOMP, CLOMP…. Repeated in a rhythmic fashion as the standard whipped the pole in the knight’s hand. The proud man known as the Gryphon made his way toward what he hoped was destiny… his beloved fiancé and the children arriving after a long, much too long, a separation. The crowd nearest him separated as if he cut a wave… the steed approached closer… Through the visor he could see a woman and two children…his heart began to burst in his chest, or so it seemed… He closed his eyes and prayed to every God that would listen, be it pagan, or christian… "Let it bae Bess… nae tease me again..."
"Mama! Mama!" He flailed his hands and leaned down to touch her back, "Mama, mama?" She tried to stand but found her knees were held to the wooden docks swaying under the sea. In her eyes she saw these things: Her son, slow moving words heard in garbles. Her mouth moved but no words came. From the corner of peripheral vision a flash of black, a minute of golden creature. Edme screamed as she thudded against her mother's chest as Bess fell to the docks. Hand clanged'; skull knocked. (d)
The crowd gathered... Adam handed Richard the standard and dismounted. Then he hurriedly walked toward the crowd. Removing the helm, he saw Aodhan kneeling next to his mother... upon the prone female, a child lay crying... Adam dropped the helm with a metal to wood clang. Pushing his way to the woman, he knelt down his glove removed,... a familiar hand caressed her cheek. "Bess... mae dearest Bessie Eve... dae nae dae this tae mae... be strong... yu are safe my love... I am here with yu..." In the meantime, Richard had summoned several men to gather a cart and the family baggage. Others had summoned a healer. His hand stroked her cheek. "Bessie Eve, ah luv ye woman..."
Edme screamed as the woman that held her muttered and said nothing more. Her breathing became slow, her body showing signs of wear the weeks had done. What war had she fought? The war of the soul torn a'twain only for the heart to break there after. A feverant search she might not even to complete, a road rising that she might not be able to travel. Aodhan began to sob uncontrollably. He was sorry! He couldn't be a knight now, he couldn't! "Mama, mama I be sorry! did I touch you too hard? Mama!" Then the men came, voices, so many, his little body lost amid tall giants. Somewhere in her mind, she thought she heard him speaking. Or was that a kind way of death taking her? "I can't." she whispered, "Ah can't get up. Ah can't… move anymore. Adam, either ye live or ye die but someone tell me please..." (d)
This was not his Bess... he found it hard to believe. Had love did this to her? "Damn ye woman, stand yer ground, ah stand before ye... get up and meet yer beloved..." his tone was that more of a commander than a lover... but he knew not how to handle the distraught and disheveled frame of a woman of longing... one who had not eaten or slept for days. "Bess... get up... this is no way to see yer man..."
"Don't treat Mama that way! Mama can't eat," Aodhan pulled on the man and when he realized he was Adam? "Adam! Adam, you aren't sleepin' anymore?! Mama.. .Mama... can't eat... her tummy has sores, n' her sleep, she doesn't. She can't gae on and she does all the heavy work, but she is sick n' dizzy She needs help..." He had undergone much stress for a child his age and was beside himself with worry. Would she sleep forever? The men put her to the cart, pulling her upward. Still, her feet shook, her eyes blinking rapidly. (d)
Adam carried Aodhan and Edme as they walked behind the cart. He placed the boy upon broad shoulders, the girl in his left arm, his right hand holding hers as they walked the whole way to the city.
The man in black, the Aberdeen crest upon his cape pins stood over the woman lying in the bed. Sitting down, a
glance toward the woman caring for the children. "M'Lady Aberdeen... come back to me..." his hands rubbing hers, more for love than warmth, him offering a simply smile. "Bessie Eve...tis Adam... come back to me luv... find the strength."
In the bed, the woman seemed smaller than standing stature allowed. Her body sunk deep into the pallet, head resting in the high pillows stuffed with feather down. Golden hair was strewn across paled cheeks; did he spread his finger through the strands of flaxen, spiraling and twisting as the threads of long life? What would cut it, if anything? Questions and questions more went unanswered in the silent air. "She is tired, m'lord. Lacking strength for want of nourishment. Her belly has the ulcer ailment, but it can be remedied." The healer touched the white chalk brown, "The fever has faded… she should have taken better care.." A groan. Hand languid pass to the one on her head. How long did he wait to hear her voice, and finally it said, "Get her f-in hand off meh." (d)
He smiles at her, his hand taking hers... "Ye are safe now... nothing to worry 'bout now. " The man in black, his hair a mess from the helm leans down to kiss the woman's cheek. The soft lips touch cool skin; a whisper offered in reassurance. "ah luv ye woman... ye cannae leave mae alone, we 'ave much tae dae..." Calloused fingers caresses soft skin.
Time parted the curtain of mystery to allow logic a place in the present time. Gingerly, she lifted her hand out to reach for the image of a man that had come into focus. She was reaching out to touch the unfamiliar until the edges melded into the form of Adam. Her lungs shuttered, choking on the air as eyes widened. Wide smile lengthened and pulled as eyes narrowed. Tears blurred her vision all over again, and she leaned forward. Croaking tone called out to him, "We've much..tae dae...we've sae much. Sae much..life. Adam? I be nay dreamin?" (d)
"Shhhh,naew, tis aw'right mae luv... tis yer Adam all safe and sound he is... Nae Bessie Eve, yae nae dreamin' naer we in heaven... but we be in Skye, tis as close tae heaven as ye kin gaet." Strong arm slides under her to hold a weak form. He kisses dry, cracked lips. Holding a free arm above her, he smiles, then touches her wrist. "We ave hand-fastin as soon as ye are able tae stand if only faer a moment lass. Nary sword nor lance could keep mae from ye my luv... Ah dun told ye, we'd be back taegether agin."
"I dun care," her forehead came to rest upon his, chapped lips holding kisses as water rain in the desert, "I want tae be with ye, ye are m'heart man. What the hell did ye dae tae me?" Laughter! Hoarse, calloused laughter as rough as hands, as tender as the touches caressing across his face. Thumb brushed the jawline as pursed lips rained affections all across him. "Adam, I thought... thought..ga" She coughed to clarify the tonality cricking in her voicebox into something more audible.. "I love ye..sae much… did I scare 'em, did I scare our boy tae much… and Edme, where's she?" (d)
A chubby woman, the material hiding her forehead and hair came forth, "Lass, I dun care what he did tae ye..." then wedged her way between Bess and Adam... "M'Lord, yer reunion will have tae wait... I gota tae gaet the lass back to good health... and ye be hamperin mae job..." then she winked at Bess. "Lass, ye gots tae let go yer man a bit more... ye kant gae afore handfastin and nae celebrate the marriage bed... and in yer health, tis nae be good passion if'en ye sick..." the chubby woman, plain and stalwart nudged Adam out of the way and cupped gentle hands under her back so she could drink the broth.
"Where's m'boy, m'daughter...." What matter of place was this? She was in the bed, hair undone, and her clothes exchanged for a simple shift of linen. Hands against her back were strong, steadfast. The country woman was this healer's lingeage. The voice caught her off guard, turning her head to face a pair of eyes determined to reign over the unrainable. "Ah've finally ended on 'm'ass!" She laughed, and made a request, "I be sick o' broth woman...but I take it...but let Adam give it tae me, then ye can prod m'bones and wipe m'arse like a babe." Fingers slipped into his hands, "I thought he was dead, and he thought I was nay comin'..sae please, let me have m'broth from his hands”. (d)
The words came from Bess' mouth but fell on deaf ears of the healer. "The children'll be fine, mae lass tendin em... and Tis special broth, nae yer ship cook's piss M'Lady." The healer crudely put Bess back where she belonged... as a patient, a strong hand to Bess' forehead forcing her to lay back.
Adam didn't have much chance to afford explanations before being edged from Bess' bedside... the healer had taken charge, yet he stood back and watched over her... "Nae Bessie Eve,,, tae'd take more than the bloody Aignlish tae do mae in... nuttin 'll keep mae from ye ever again..." he smirks and winks at Bess. "O'course it be yer healer..." With a nod of curly hair and a smile... "Ah luv ye more'n ye know lass... five and thirty and we are both young... much life tae celebrate... The tots are fine... the healers daughter'll be playin wit 'em... and Aodhan is standing guard for his Mama... and I be right here mae luv."
"Fine, fine!." This would be the first healer that had precedence enough to control the most stubborn Highlander, perhaps one in recorded history! Head came back to the pillows, broth past lips and she had to admit, "Ye make a good broth woman. A vera good broth indeed. What is yer name? " She smiled over to Adam and sighed as the bowl was able to at last come into her own hands. "Dun worry, woman, or Adam, I can dae this much. I tied ship rigging, did manifests, shipments fer two months this way..." A confession! Scarlet bloomed on face to give it health's color as fumbled embarrasment came to the fore, "As long as the children be well, Gods..I just could nay dae it anymore.Edme did nay hit her head did she?" (d)
"Lass, I guarantee this broth'll put a step in yer walk and passion in yer..." then she looks at Adam and then back to Bess... "I think he can dae that M'Lady... tis Aida, M'Lady... and ye may be a stalwart woman, but yer on yer arse naew..." the chubby woman laughed as he breasts bounced.
Adam just smiled and nodded in agreement with Aida. "Edme never touched the ground luv... ye fell and hit yer back, 'nd yer head hit wood. Damn near broke the dock tho..." he chuckled seeing a familiar blush... "ye think of all the things we 'ave tae dae... jes gaet better..."
"Tha I be. On m'fat backside. Aida, can ye put the pillow up a wee bit more, now I be nay used tae such tender caresses." When in Rome....such was the beginning of the old saying. Aida chuckled, muttering about the Highlander's stubbornness as pillow was set up. The broth was gone, and in fact, Bess requested another bowl! What could be done when she patted a spot on the bed next to herself for him to occupy? Wry grin. "Come 'ere, Adam. Dun worry I shan't pass out again..Aida, more o' ye.." a little cough, "good broth please. I wish tae plan with ye, Adam, somethin' long o'erdo.." (d)
Adam watched Aida walk away to fetch another bowl of broth and walked to Bess' bed and sat down, facing her. His hand immediately went to her face. "Yer real luv... Ah thought this day would ne'r get here... Ah gaet yer letter... and ah hope ye gaet mine." Overdo? Plan? he twirls a leather bracelet. "Ah thought 'bout ye sae much..."
What strength she had was used to pull him into her arms, a firm grasp before she took up his hands. "I missed ye tae, could nay stand it. Was dreamin' o' marryin ye. Is tha' nay crazy?" She kissed the palm of his hands and chuckled. "When they told me, Adam I damn near lost me mind. Ye've, ye've won m'heart man...mmm.." (d)
Inverness didn't hold the same sense of purpose it had when the men had first left for battle and Bess was determined to lend her hand in all matters she could find. One day after the next bled into one another until little mattered. Not sleep, nor food, nor reprieve from the exhaustion that hung on her back until it weighed enough to bring her down by force alone. None had known the woman's private hell. None could know. How do you explain the crumbling of the mountain or the bare bottom depth of a sea proved finite? The crushed matter became little more than unbound essence thrashing headlong into the wind amidst the storm of old words, whispers, and promises that still had yet to be kept. "Adam." Beathag exhaled his name and breathed in the salt air to sting her lungs. "Dun leave me, Adam." Aboard a ship she sat, to watch the gulls dip into the expansive horizon painted in amber streaked velvet pitch. A man came to deliver her news of men returned and the battlefields that the Devil already haunted her dreams with. Amidst the men returned on foot were bodies wrapped in sacks. The cold kept them until family could claim the remains of a proud son, father, or brother that told them of good fortune to come upon return. One of those sacks had been given her in place of a kiss. A cold, stiff body instead of embrace... only for it to be learned that fate and fortune conspired to haunt her. The body was not his! Even now the man could see her eyes, hollowed with tears until nothing else was provided but the cut chasms in color shifting hue. Was it sorrow that garnered them blue? "Some of the men returned wonder if you might employ them when rest and strength are theirs again, mam. They be lookin to retire, some do, others only to thank ye lookin' after their family if you'd their cousins employed or such. Mam?" Beathag looked at the man with innocent messages to convey and threatened to expel him from her presence with but a raise of hand. He shrinked back; a man heard his bones shift and crack when he dared call her crazed only that very day. Sighing, she shook her head and only showed him the note. "This tells me I shan't be 'ere long, friend. Tell them nothin'." Words, words. She heard them and in her hand held ones that seemed in her lover's hand, but only his face would reveal that to her. So soon, oh so soon, she planned to leave.
War – the never-ending avenue to dreams… nay nightmares… for the sounds of metal clashing in anger, the tormented cries of pain from the wounded and dying… and the laments of the beloved followers of those who trailed not far from the battlefield. In war, not only do the warriors die, or is wounded, but the families die a little bit with every passing day their beloved is gone.
But the same can be said for the warriors, soldiers, and knights, on both sides, for pain, suffering, and death knows no boundaries, limits, or causes. The combatants lie in their rough beds, catching fitful sleep when they can. Though denied by many, each and every one lies awake wondering how their beloved ones at home are. Were they safe? Where they starving under seige?
War – only the country’s leaders decide to engage or not. Some are forced to make that fateful decision by the ones who choose it to extract a vengence, a power, or a bounty. The soldiers, knights, and warriors, all, deep-down, no matter how much bragging they do, actually want peace. Unless their soul is dead and that is all they desire is to kill or be killed. No one loves peace more than a warrior.
Adam had raised the visor of the helm as the last of the English either fell under sword or ran. About him stood a mere 5 and ten men… out of over 100. It was a small battle… one of little consequence… except to the ones actually on the field. He nods to his left, the elder man, standing proud in his white surcoat, it too, stained red… thought the red cross stood prominent. The older man nodded back. A silent thanks and the usual offering of mead or whiskey back at camp.
Bodies were removed from the battlefield, as Richard and Adam sat in the tent drinking mead and telling stories from the field. Squire and healers were tending their wounds as they drank and laughed. Occasionally taking deep breathes in silent regard of their own fallen brothers. A clank of metal cups, slurping sounds, as the two men hurriedly drank and then continued their discussion of the future. The Templar was telling Adam of a beautiful place called Skye. He made a vow, to offer Adam sanctuary, should the English overrun Scotland. With a laugh, Adam reflected on Bess' words about Skye. A twinkle of the eye, and a twisting of the arm to ensure the capability of movement was not hampered by the cut upon his arm.
No libation was in hand for the living, dying, or the dead. All three kept to themselves as the woman reread the words over and over that spoke of him wishing to make the crossing over the sea as the boatmen did. "Come o'er the waves, the ship a royal bed. O'er the sea to Skye." Her voice was hoarse; no nourishment or drink had slacked the burning of the body for three days now. Three days since the decision had been made, and soon it seemed to not matter that she had packed up the berths of The Highland Dutchess and the Aberdeen with all the meager possessions her family had garnered. Clothing, books, carvings, banners, and items of sediment shared passage with horses, weapons, and the manifest of where cargo was to go. Each man in her employ had been given a choice: "Ye may stay with me iffn ye wish, those o' ye tha' came. I will pay ye well and if ye take port than I will pay ye a stipend long enough tae last ye through the whole o' Spring. Iffn ye wish tae return tae the port o' the Highland king way will be set for ye. But if ye stay with me we are gaein along the coast, and then tae the inner Isles. Beyond tha? Pay the boatman for ye ferry tae the mainland for I shan't come off it for a long while. I either gae tae be made a wife or tae mourn as a woman that ought have been a wife, now only one in a widow's memory."
“Ah be far ‘way from mae Bessie Eve… ah shant make a decision like dat withaet her ideas. Soon dis will be over ah tell ye…” He drinks from his cup… “The English daent have the ‘eart faer it nae more… course they fight, but much more run than ever befaer.” He looks at the older man and breathes deep… “Ah lost more ‘en 5 and ninety taeday Richard; 5 and ninety I tell ye… far tae many for nae where near the main battle.”
Interrupted they were, as a messenger was introduced to Sir Richard. In the usual formalities between a league commander and a messenger, Adam simply listened. Information about the Highlanders moving back north to Inverness… a peace settlement was arranged. Inverness proper had suffered her own suffering but details were sketchy at best. Sir Richard was to parallel the Highlanders until safe passage could be found back to Skye. Adam, looked to Richard with concern.
His word had reached the woman who cried out in the darkness when no one could see her. Little by little, until the tears in shadow were worn in the light with no regard for her saw her anymore. Scotland would open her many arms to welcome back the men she offered along the borders to Fate with bated breath. Why could she not be among those that could finally draw breath without agony? Aodhan and Edme did as children were apt to do in these times. Drawing inward, they invented a world no grown man or woman had a right to comprehend. Wooden figures of men, horses, and castes told stories of heroic victory that eased the pain of the loss they knew through their mother. Unknowing of where it had gone or why it would be there, a messenger moved through the gathering place of men common and uncommon to deliver another message meant for Adam's hands. The parchment had been folded and unfolded in moments of indecision, the crease deep, the penmanship of shaken fingertips. Stiff wrists made ink splotches to spell out the words. "For you, Sir. Tis important fer the woman tha' hired me slapped the arse of the horse n' said tha' it was either tae gae to you or be burned if ye were nay found. Beggin' ye pardon o' course…"
"To Adam Aberdeen, or to the Fire tha' sends this to his spirit,
There is an empty home tha' will ne'er know the sounds o' laughter or know what it is to have us inside of it. Our children will n'er know it as the roof o'erhead. My Highlands are awash in memories o' ye and half sick, mad, and crazed I've become for words o' uttered promises. Am I angry? At first at ye, and then at m'self... and then only at the heaven tha' dared me to believ eye were dead... told me ye live… and now leaves me uncertain. If you live than know I tha' I come to find ye, and if ye are dead mayhaps a body I can pay respect to. Either way fate finds me lookin for you or the last traces."
There is an empty home tha' will ne'er know the sounds o' laughter or know what it is to have us inside of it. Our children will n'er know it as the roof o'erhead. My Highlands are awash in memories o' ye and half sick, mad, and crazed I've become for words o' uttered promises. Am I angry? At first at ye, and then at m'self... and then only at the heaven tha' dared me to believ eye were dead... told me ye live… and now leaves me uncertain. If you live than know I tha' I come to find ye, and if ye are dead mayhaps a body I can pay respect to. Either way fate finds me lookin for you or the last traces."
Once the messenger was gone, Richard sat back down and the squire handed him a filled cup. “Adam, you and yer men, will come with me. If yu wish to go back to the Highlands, then I shall help ye… but I think, until what we know the Highland King will do… tis best ye come to Skye with me.”
It made him chuckle; the English accent heard spoke for the Gaelics. But then Richard was English and so was he. “Ah wish there was some way ah could get word to Bess where I am.” Both men nodded knowing well, that communication between the divisions of the army was thin at best. “Ah know mae Bessie Eve… she’ll find me. We’d be bethrothed ye know.” He held up his wrist showing the leather and hair entwined to make a bracelet.
The older man telling the younger that he had no choice but to come to Skye. The two men laughed and joked but they both knew that they were alone now… especially since the main force was moving back toward Inverness. English to the north… English to the east…English to the south… Skye to the west. It seemed that the Highland King and the English had gave him no choice.
"Sir, Sir! Ye are Adam yes? Sir! " The boy, for that was what he was, was fifteen and thin as a reed. His presence was easy to detect amidst the bulked Highland men in his company. He heard accents - English, Gaelic, the English tongue on Scot's Gaelic's speakers, French. Amidst them his voice called out again as he came closer to the table where two men congregated. It had taken him a week only to come south, and another week besides to find a name that remembered Adam Aberdeen of the knights… heading toward Inverness and other cities farther North. Pushing through winter rain, at last he came to a place where a name, a living body, and face did justice to effort. The note in all of its contents was messily settled on the table for him to read as he gulped for air. "Sir, Sir you… are Adam... Aberdeen, they told me to look for ye... that ye hadn't died but… might have moved… here! "
Nigh on two months… in the stretches of eternity, that was no consequence. Two months to a man who was in love deep for the first time in his life, it was a long time to be away from. The letters had come… then faded as the month… then came the snow… in some places higher than their knees. Then came the heat of battle that left red stains upon the white snow. Richard and Adam sat and drank as they did at every lull of battle.
Once again interrupted by an excited youth. The guards allowed the boy passage once they heard the name Aberdeen. Before the guard could announce the boy, youthful exuberance found a letter placed on a table before the knight dressed in black surcoat and trousers, the gold gryphon upon his chest. “Aye lad, ah be Adam Aberdeen. What is this?” Adam opened the letter and read it silently. A sigh then laughter as he handed it to Richard. “Ah told ye M’Lord, she’s a blessing… a woman after mae own ‘eart.”
Richard laid the letter upon the table… then gave Adam materials to write with. Adam smirked and dipped the pen to write…
Mae dearest Bessie Eve… yu be right, I am alive still.. let no Highlander pawn off no maimed body for my own. Anger no more woman, as yer man waits for yu on the Isle of Skye. The English have cut off our return route so Skye we must make. Sell the cottage I built or burn it… The Highlander army left us astray. When they return ah shant be amongst them. Come to Skye, bring all ye got and we make it anew… as husband and wife should ya still have me.
My heart is still yers to keep or toss away. In this letter I stay my promises to yu until ye release my fealty to yu…
All mae love,
Adam
My heart is still yers to keep or toss away. In this letter I stay my promises to yu until ye release my fealty to yu…
All mae love,
Adam
The he folders the letter and seals it with a gryphon ring he had made. Handing it to the boy... "Ride hard and fast... deliver this to the woman who tasked yu... and let her know Mead is awaitin for her in Skye... if she wants me still. Now go...make haste lad." Then laughs as the boy grabs the letter and disappears.
The boy had time only to drink broth, eat a slice of bread, and wash it down with a half cup of cider by the time the quick hand scrawled out the words that would give the lady who awaited any news some succor. "Aye sir, aye!" he said as he made ready for the cold night again. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder to say. "This is right good, Sir Adam! Right good n' well. She looks afright sir," what else could he say but the truth. "M'uncle says she eats lil n' sleeps less n' has e'er since march from Inverness to the South. Crew worried she may not make the voyage in one piece afore they took up anchor. Ah'll ride hard... m'thinks she should already have taken port, in fact... iffn so I'll come back sir, tell ye I promise." [/b][/i] [/color]
The Reunion
The trip to Skye was long for the few men that survived the southern campaign. Adam rode beside his new friend, the loyalty born of battle. The two men had entered TurasLan, one, a hallowed knight returning to his people, the other a stranger to a new land. Adam held the black and gold standard proud and rode into the city. He was not sure if letters reached Bess... but the trip to Skye had been a strategic move as the English had closed the gap between them and Inverness... Rumors abound had set the tone for them back in the Highlands... dead and gone, Highlander bodies either returned with the main body or left upon an English field.
Rumors were as close to truth as the Highlander herself could take; written letter and voice of messenger conveyed the fate of corpse collection for herself and Kaelyn. No matter how hard you run, how daring your plan, or how well you hide, Death will collect those he has deemed to meet their end. Consequences, logic, and feeling clashed in the head and ravaged the body until the two met an impasse to let Time be remedy to their works. "He is gone." The words uttered day to day. Stubborn appeasement of work ethic and living for small ones were all that distracted her, body near to joining the dead until the personal effects of letters were delivered. Encased in ribbon gingerly pulled aside, parchment caressed and words cherished as mind conjured the voice to match them, until one read. "I have gone to Skye, our forces have closed in. I pray this reaches you in time, and you do not despair nor worry over much." This day matched the collection of the body, a body that was not his. How quick or how long or how far? Little did time, distance, or circumspect detail mean save only to suggest the amounts needed in formula used to conjure the truth. Either his lips she would kiss and arms collapse in to, or she would bury him.
Several days later, the man known as Adam Aberdeen lived above the tavern, letter after letter written and sent by paid courier to his beloved; His evenings spent pen in hand. His thoughts of love and family far exceeded what he could ever write in a letter. His heart had sunk to the bottoms of mead tankards as he thought she had chosen to stay in the Highlands… Richard was his only rock… the Templar never doubted the love that the pair shared… each time Adam would be despondent, Richard would simply reach over and touch the charm on the man's wrist… Adam smiled and agreed with the elderly man. One evening over a usual tankard, Richard told Adam of ships scheduled from Inverness to Turas Lan… Adam simply smiled and the two toasted what may come.
Fingertips turned round and round the braided rope of Adam's hair and leather promise upon her wrist. It felt soft, still, bristling in the wintry air until it didn't feel as human anymore. Bess didn’t feel as though she were mortal more caught between worlds, pinned, as if between the starboard side of the ship and a rocky cliff. Purple dusk infused with strands of diamond glitter shone in the etched hillside. Going up, up, a spire into hills making a Scottish Babel in imagination of Celtic countrymen. Turas Lan. Her ship was eclipsed by the grandeur of the sight before her. But did this sight hold one, one more for her? Aodhan lingered at the railing and spoke, "So Adam didn't go to sleep forever, mama?"
The man was dressed in black… the gold Gryphon upon his chest… the helm in place… the black flag, the golden gryphon fluttering in the wind. Ship after ship, he appeared at the docks, dressed in the same manner as the day he exited Inverness. The waiting had been hard; but even harder when the passengers he sought were not on them. Still Richard persuaded the man to be adamant, to trust in the love he had… The white horse pawed at the dirt as yet another ship sail was seen in the far horizon.
"I dun know, son. He may be... or he may be sleepin' ere. I hope he is awake," Bess replied, "I hope he's awake." Because if he was awake, she would revive. If he were collapsed? She would die. Evidence presented the conclusion no other way. She couldn't eat much save broth or bread, she couldn't sleep. Fits were common and now she began to see the mists form shade of entity the world had long since done away with. Pushing on, she too held the railing as the dock came into view. Edme was in the arms of a crewmen, for her own were too weak. "Ready to make anchor!" (d)
Richard, dressed in the battledress sat upon a bay stallion, his presence merely in support of his swordbrother and friend. The helm stayed in place as Adam fidgeted in the battle dress of the Gryphon… He raised the visor as he saw the anchor of the ship splash in the bay… the longboats rowing out to meet the ship. “Sir Richard… ah kin nae longer wait up here… ah mus’ gae tae the docks… ah pray tae wha’ ever God be listenin’ that mae Bess and children be on ship…” Richard laughed inside his helm… as the male in black turned the white steed and slowly rode to the docks. By the time, he arrived dockside, the longboats were on their return trip.
Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Praying Over and over again the words. The mists seemed to talk to her of these very matters. Was she at last going mad? Perhaps, and she laughed at the irony as croaking voice called, "lower the gangplanks, tie us down! Send... our things… tae what 'er the nearest tavern be. M'daughter, give me m'daughter." She had to admit that she simply didn't care what became of the body physical or the mind's ability to fashion sense out of sorrowful ruins! Edme clung to her mother, as if expecting to be dropped on the deck, into the sea, or onto the streets of paved stones. Aodhan remained close at hand to take the one offered him as the family descended at last. Longboats were pulling in alongside tall seaside masters; men serious in armored attire, fisherman. Some holding passengers come from the mainland. "Mama, let's go look for him now? " He tugged at the threads hanging from her vest. Men passed by with trunks and crate, on their way to make purchase of rooms for themselves and their Captain. In the swirl, somewhere she began to swoon. "Mama?" Aodhan opened his eyes wide, "Mama, are ye sick again? Does your belly hurt… Mama?" He would get remedy by shrilling out for his mother over and over again as the mists began to choke her, drown her. Colors swirled together until she came to her knees with Edme crying out at the harsh jarring.
The white destrier pranced along cobblestone until it arrived at the wooden track toward the long pier. CLOMP….CLOMP, CLOMP, CLOMP…. Repeated in a rhythmic fashion as the standard whipped the pole in the knight’s hand. The proud man known as the Gryphon made his way toward what he hoped was destiny… his beloved fiancé and the children arriving after a long, much too long, a separation. The crowd nearest him separated as if he cut a wave… the steed approached closer… Through the visor he could see a woman and two children…his heart began to burst in his chest, or so it seemed… He closed his eyes and prayed to every God that would listen, be it pagan, or christian… "Let it bae Bess… nae tease me again..."
"Mama! Mama!" He flailed his hands and leaned down to touch her back, "Mama, mama?" She tried to stand but found her knees were held to the wooden docks swaying under the sea. In her eyes she saw these things: Her son, slow moving words heard in garbles. Her mouth moved but no words came. From the corner of peripheral vision a flash of black, a minute of golden creature. Edme screamed as she thudded against her mother's chest as Bess fell to the docks. Hand clanged'; skull knocked. (d)
The crowd gathered... Adam handed Richard the standard and dismounted. Then he hurriedly walked toward the crowd. Removing the helm, he saw Aodhan kneeling next to his mother... upon the prone female, a child lay crying... Adam dropped the helm with a metal to wood clang. Pushing his way to the woman, he knelt down his glove removed,... a familiar hand caressed her cheek. "Bess... mae dearest Bessie Eve... dae nae dae this tae mae... be strong... yu are safe my love... I am here with yu..." In the meantime, Richard had summoned several men to gather a cart and the family baggage. Others had summoned a healer. His hand stroked her cheek. "Bessie Eve, ah luv ye woman..."
Edme screamed as the woman that held her muttered and said nothing more. Her breathing became slow, her body showing signs of wear the weeks had done. What war had she fought? The war of the soul torn a'twain only for the heart to break there after. A feverant search she might not even to complete, a road rising that she might not be able to travel. Aodhan began to sob uncontrollably. He was sorry! He couldn't be a knight now, he couldn't! "Mama, mama I be sorry! did I touch you too hard? Mama!" Then the men came, voices, so many, his little body lost amid tall giants. Somewhere in her mind, she thought she heard him speaking. Or was that a kind way of death taking her? "I can't." she whispered, "Ah can't get up. Ah can't… move anymore. Adam, either ye live or ye die but someone tell me please..." (d)
This was not his Bess... he found it hard to believe. Had love did this to her? "Damn ye woman, stand yer ground, ah stand before ye... get up and meet yer beloved..." his tone was that more of a commander than a lover... but he knew not how to handle the distraught and disheveled frame of a woman of longing... one who had not eaten or slept for days. "Bess... get up... this is no way to see yer man..."
"Don't treat Mama that way! Mama can't eat," Aodhan pulled on the man and when he realized he was Adam? "Adam! Adam, you aren't sleepin' anymore?! Mama.. .Mama... can't eat... her tummy has sores, n' her sleep, she doesn't. She can't gae on and she does all the heavy work, but she is sick n' dizzy She needs help..." He had undergone much stress for a child his age and was beside himself with worry. Would she sleep forever? The men put her to the cart, pulling her upward. Still, her feet shook, her eyes blinking rapidly. (d)
Adam carried Aodhan and Edme as they walked behind the cart. He placed the boy upon broad shoulders, the girl in his left arm, his right hand holding hers as they walked the whole way to the city.
The man in black, the Aberdeen crest upon his cape pins stood over the woman lying in the bed. Sitting down, a
glance toward the woman caring for the children. "M'Lady Aberdeen... come back to me..." his hands rubbing hers, more for love than warmth, him offering a simply smile. "Bessie Eve...tis Adam... come back to me luv... find the strength."
In the bed, the woman seemed smaller than standing stature allowed. Her body sunk deep into the pallet, head resting in the high pillows stuffed with feather down. Golden hair was strewn across paled cheeks; did he spread his finger through the strands of flaxen, spiraling and twisting as the threads of long life? What would cut it, if anything? Questions and questions more went unanswered in the silent air. "She is tired, m'lord. Lacking strength for want of nourishment. Her belly has the ulcer ailment, but it can be remedied." The healer touched the white chalk brown, "The fever has faded… she should have taken better care.." A groan. Hand languid pass to the one on her head. How long did he wait to hear her voice, and finally it said, "Get her f-in hand off meh." (d)
He smiles at her, his hand taking hers... "Ye are safe now... nothing to worry 'bout now. " The man in black, his hair a mess from the helm leans down to kiss the woman's cheek. The soft lips touch cool skin; a whisper offered in reassurance. "ah luv ye woman... ye cannae leave mae alone, we 'ave much tae dae..." Calloused fingers caresses soft skin.
Time parted the curtain of mystery to allow logic a place in the present time. Gingerly, she lifted her hand out to reach for the image of a man that had come into focus. She was reaching out to touch the unfamiliar until the edges melded into the form of Adam. Her lungs shuttered, choking on the air as eyes widened. Wide smile lengthened and pulled as eyes narrowed. Tears blurred her vision all over again, and she leaned forward. Croaking tone called out to him, "We've much..tae dae...we've sae much. Sae much..life. Adam? I be nay dreamin?" (d)
"Shhhh,naew, tis aw'right mae luv... tis yer Adam all safe and sound he is... Nae Bessie Eve, yae nae dreamin' naer we in heaven... but we be in Skye, tis as close tae heaven as ye kin gaet." Strong arm slides under her to hold a weak form. He kisses dry, cracked lips. Holding a free arm above her, he smiles, then touches her wrist. "We ave hand-fastin as soon as ye are able tae stand if only faer a moment lass. Nary sword nor lance could keep mae from ye my luv... Ah dun told ye, we'd be back taegether agin."
"I dun care," her forehead came to rest upon his, chapped lips holding kisses as water rain in the desert, "I want tae be with ye, ye are m'heart man. What the hell did ye dae tae me?" Laughter! Hoarse, calloused laughter as rough as hands, as tender as the touches caressing across his face. Thumb brushed the jawline as pursed lips rained affections all across him. "Adam, I thought... thought..ga" She coughed to clarify the tonality cricking in her voicebox into something more audible.. "I love ye..sae much… did I scare 'em, did I scare our boy tae much… and Edme, where's she?" (d)
A chubby woman, the material hiding her forehead and hair came forth, "Lass, I dun care what he did tae ye..." then wedged her way between Bess and Adam... "M'Lord, yer reunion will have tae wait... I gota tae gaet the lass back to good health... and ye be hamperin mae job..." then she winked at Bess. "Lass, ye gots tae let go yer man a bit more... ye kant gae afore handfastin and nae celebrate the marriage bed... and in yer health, tis nae be good passion if'en ye sick..." the chubby woman, plain and stalwart nudged Adam out of the way and cupped gentle hands under her back so she could drink the broth.
"Where's m'boy, m'daughter...." What matter of place was this? She was in the bed, hair undone, and her clothes exchanged for a simple shift of linen. Hands against her back were strong, steadfast. The country woman was this healer's lingeage. The voice caught her off guard, turning her head to face a pair of eyes determined to reign over the unrainable. "Ah've finally ended on 'm'ass!" She laughed, and made a request, "I be sick o' broth woman...but I take it...but let Adam give it tae me, then ye can prod m'bones and wipe m'arse like a babe." Fingers slipped into his hands, "I thought he was dead, and he thought I was nay comin'..sae please, let me have m'broth from his hands”. (d)
The words came from Bess' mouth but fell on deaf ears of the healer. "The children'll be fine, mae lass tendin em... and Tis special broth, nae yer ship cook's piss M'Lady." The healer crudely put Bess back where she belonged... as a patient, a strong hand to Bess' forehead forcing her to lay back.
Adam didn't have much chance to afford explanations before being edged from Bess' bedside... the healer had taken charge, yet he stood back and watched over her... "Nae Bessie Eve,,, tae'd take more than the bloody Aignlish tae do mae in... nuttin 'll keep mae from ye ever again..." he smirks and winks at Bess. "O'course it be yer healer..." With a nod of curly hair and a smile... "Ah luv ye more'n ye know lass... five and thirty and we are both young... much life tae celebrate... The tots are fine... the healers daughter'll be playin wit 'em... and Aodhan is standing guard for his Mama... and I be right here mae luv."
"Fine, fine!." This would be the first healer that had precedence enough to control the most stubborn Highlander, perhaps one in recorded history! Head came back to the pillows, broth past lips and she had to admit, "Ye make a good broth woman. A vera good broth indeed. What is yer name? " She smiled over to Adam and sighed as the bowl was able to at last come into her own hands. "Dun worry, woman, or Adam, I can dae this much. I tied ship rigging, did manifests, shipments fer two months this way..." A confession! Scarlet bloomed on face to give it health's color as fumbled embarrasment came to the fore, "As long as the children be well, Gods..I just could nay dae it anymore.Edme did nay hit her head did she?" (d)
"Lass, I guarantee this broth'll put a step in yer walk and passion in yer..." then she looks at Adam and then back to Bess... "I think he can dae that M'Lady... tis Aida, M'Lady... and ye may be a stalwart woman, but yer on yer arse naew..." the chubby woman laughed as he breasts bounced.
Adam just smiled and nodded in agreement with Aida. "Edme never touched the ground luv... ye fell and hit yer back, 'nd yer head hit wood. Damn near broke the dock tho..." he chuckled seeing a familiar blush... "ye think of all the things we 'ave tae dae... jes gaet better..."
"Tha I be. On m'fat backside. Aida, can ye put the pillow up a wee bit more, now I be nay used tae such tender caresses." When in Rome....such was the beginning of the old saying. Aida chuckled, muttering about the Highlander's stubbornness as pillow was set up. The broth was gone, and in fact, Bess requested another bowl! What could be done when she patted a spot on the bed next to herself for him to occupy? Wry grin. "Come 'ere, Adam. Dun worry I shan't pass out again..Aida, more o' ye.." a little cough, "good broth please. I wish tae plan with ye, Adam, somethin' long o'erdo.." (d)
Adam watched Aida walk away to fetch another bowl of broth and walked to Bess' bed and sat down, facing her. His hand immediately went to her face. "Yer real luv... Ah thought this day would ne'r get here... Ah gaet yer letter... and ah hope ye gaet mine." Overdo? Plan? he twirls a leather bracelet. "Ah thought 'bout ye sae much..."
What strength she had was used to pull him into her arms, a firm grasp before she took up his hands. "I missed ye tae, could nay stand it. Was dreamin' o' marryin ye. Is tha' nay crazy?" She kissed the palm of his hands and chuckled. "When they told me, Adam I damn near lost me mind. Ye've, ye've won m'heart man...mmm.." (d)