Tales of the East Wing

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: Duty bequeaths one with respondsibility; honor is the thing that gives duty presidence to be seen, revered, if it is carried out by those ready to the task. Beathag swallowed the shards of her heart so that her people would see the outer shell of her body resolute with strength, ignorant to the turmoil within. She had reached out, finding no hand to keep her from falling, and instead of letting the waves drown her, a sword of sorts was plunged into the side of the cliff. No one questioned endurance, lack of tears, no one questioned her at all. The people of Sleat were recovering well, and the southern clan of MacDonald had been summoned to the city for meetings with peers in the Blue Castle to discuss reconstruction. All those who had not helped in the hour of need were to be fined in ample gold, silver, and men to make the port city thrive as it had never known. Those who had run were labeled as cowards and would hide in their noble houses, blaming their fathers, and forefathers before them. The time now was the late hour of midnight, the infancy of a day with no sun. Torchlight was muted at best in the distant halls further from the other rooms in the Eastern Wing of the castle. Down, past guest suites, to what would have traditionally held the Lady's quarters. She had slept with her husband since their handfasting, yet with nothing in the chambers but the sound of air..she retreated into scarcity, anonimity unless needed. None talked of her presence, but they listened..to the sounds of a harp being played (d)

Maahes: It had been days since anyone had seen the Avarian Beast, as he was lost in a sea of his own mangled emotions and under the waves of the finest linen sheets. Like a ship breaking the waves, one single pillow held his head above the water. Maahes slept for days, healing both his mind and his body. Many serfs would turn to the other Avrian's worried for his well-being and they would only be returned with a smile. "He does that.". Would be there reply. They knew their General, and knew his entire form lived solely for battle that he'd stay awake for a week at a time, and would finally crash at the end. A kind woman had taken his measurements and replaced many of his belongings; clothes that best fit a man of his height and weight. A kind gesture towards him, returned towards her, as he helped replace the headers in her barn. A task her husband had grown too feeble to tend. From the sails of the Avarian ship that soon washed to the sea, she made him a tunic meant for what he was doing. The crest of the phoenix crossing his back, and pants that were full in the legs, and tied at the top. No it was not meant for a king, just the humble General who was hard to understand. However, night had fallen on the third day, and with it the warrior. He had spent the evening with Anulia, the small woman from the jungle had attacked a man, and the reasons made his mind too wild to return him back into his blackened state. So bare feet moved over the much smoother floor of the castle, and an exploration of both mind and imagery began. The groggy man wanted to learn of the castle, and each painting on the walls told so many stories, that so many could miss. However, for one who could not read, pictures were all he had, and every little detail told him all he would need to know. (d

Beathag: The halls of Griffin Castle told the story of a succession etched in familial ties, enforced by contract, blood, marriage, and alliance. He could see the tapestry pictures of Viking lords among the Scottish clans. MacDonald's for a portion of the Norman period, faces not unlike those that had spoken with anomcity toward the Duchess at Blue Castle, tormented the Duke on the mainland. Then was another family, MacLaurie's, who had brought a period of peace until it came crashing down with no heir to wrestle away the province from the warring clands. Lords of the Isles, Generals, Ladies, sons and daughters. The man could not read, so letters were just lines, names meant nothing. But faces spoke a thousand words. Where the story ceased..if one seemed to look carefully, the contours of a woman's face matched those lines in the bereveaed current Lady. Did they know this? No, the tapestry had not been studied. War does not leave time for academic pursuits, studying family trees, but one day they would learn the story of the pictures. Torches gave way to the soft glow of encased crystal lanterns. Rays of dust danced in the light of stained glass, for the Eastern Wing was only now coming to life at the Lady's request. The shadows seemed to pulse at the tremble of instrument's string. If he proceeded on, he would find a door partially opened (d)

Maahes: Maahes had a thirst for knowledge like none other. Having spent his entire life inside an arena he had only heard stories, but never saw the proof. Each day that passed new and exciting discovery's were to be had. Art, theater, and architecture were but the few things he studied. However music worked it's way in there like a fine craftsman building on to the same piece. Like a continuous line, there were so many instruments that did just that--played. The brash sounds of drums and horns were his favorite, but as the harp sang sweetly like a whisper across his skin, he could not help but follow. He was not well mannered so a knock would not sound, and perhaps it was the fear of her stopping that kept him from announcing his entrance. However as he pressed the door back Maahes would remain in the frame. Listening not only with his ears but his eyes. He watched her fingers brush the cords quickly putting together what made the sound. Poor Bess, the giant heart of his own could not help but go out to her. It was what truly separated him man from beast, and gave proof that Maahes was both. He hurt for her, and with her. Yet what had him reaching out to her the most, was that he could have prevented it. Guilt was kept inside his heart locked away so it could not be removed. Somehow, someway he could have stopped this tragedy from hitting this shore, and there would not be a day he would not wish to turn back the hands of time. (d

Beathag: Knowledge would be afforded him, out in the city for the taking. Turas Lan was a ripe fruit, the juices sweet for the scholar, artist, architect, engineer. Duke Adam sought to usher in a Renaissance of the Celtic culture that would dig up the history lost in darker ages, to foster the best minds of the age from all over the world. Turas Lan was a marvel of work so in that even in her ancient days, what must have been left foundations for the Knights Templar torebuild the city in 1317. The General could see reflected in the eyes of the immigrants for mainland Scotland the diversity waiting to be found in each alley; Scottish, Viking descendants, French, Italian, Gypsies, Moors. All of them an alchemist brew to concoct a new face for a new time, new colors bleeding along the stone firmament. Beathag did not hear the door groan softly on the hinge as the heavy wood parted to allow him a place to recline in the lintle post. Death merchant's hands became digits stretched over the taut silver strings. Craddled between her legs and against her chest was the wooden back of a harp carved with knotwork, thistles, and hounds. Cold-blooded killer filled mid-night with songs that were worthy for the ears of kings. She had known how to play this, to do this, even longer than she knew how to wield axe, sword, dagger. (d)

Aslan Burning: Death merchant was a word that could describe thousands, but somehow he just could not place it on the woman before him. The General found himself pulled inside as if she were casting a spell and he was to return to his slumber. His back remained on the wall, but his body would slide down until the ground met his form. One knee was pulled to his chest so that his arm could have support, while the other stretched out to even the weight. Dark features fell as lids closed concealing amber colored orbs, and he could pass as asleep. However his mind simply flipped the switch to off, and Maahes was lost in the images inside his head. The Harp's sound made him think of Jane, small and light. Somewhere inside that song he could hear her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and her kind words. When the song dipped to a lower end of the strings, he thought of the only kiss he had ever shared with another, and how badly he missed her. So if Bess was playing a song of a broken heart, the message was very clear. Though his emotions ran freely inside, Maahes would never admit them and especially to her. When the song would drift to an end, the Avarian's eyes would open and he would raise his head to her, but words would wait until she spoke. Like every good trained soldier, only speaking when spoken to. (d

Beathag Words were ways to form cohesive bridge twixt thought and recognition. Death-merchant, harbringer, banshee, white hound. Scotland coined many words for the native daughter's underworld reaping of enemy souls, but it also called her what time forgot: Fionathaga, for the white shoulders. Beathag of the Golden Hair. The time of the harp was magical enough to soften the scars, the callus, the thick tongued brogue wrapped over English. It melted the stone to reveal how ageless the woman of 35 appeared. A Highlander fit for an ode of a story concerning how her mother must have been a changeling queen. The light was cast off the strings like rain water, wavering on bare shoulders. Once blood stained hair was free of crimson vitae, only the flaxen fields of a bard's imagination. A bard. The word time forgot the most, what her family had once been reveared for, what she'd been trained for. If she pulled such images from Maahes, what would it be like to be the child at her feet? To have been the Lord who's halls were graced? Her voice was the thread pulling it together..deep and haunting. As deep as the voice she used to speak in.. the alto. At long last she opened her eyes to peer at an audience where none had been before, letting the last note roll away before palms quieted the strings. The echo of song bridged the space between them while she rose. "Goodeve Maahes." (d)

Maahes A body in good health could rise swiftly as if to race her grace to stand. However his was a recovering length and from floor to feet the motion was much slower. Maahes had only met a handful of people that he would not need to look down on so the bend in his neck was almost natural as it was important to meet the eyes of the other. Eye contact meant as much to him as a hand shake to another, and a kiss between a lover. It was his hello that ended in good-bye. So the Duchess of Golden Hair was met with The Brute of Avaria, hair that traveled down his back in tightly wound dreads. There would be no greeting in return, but a simple phrase muttered in his own deep baritone; rich with the sounds of his heritage. "You should be asleep." In many ways this was as well him getting onto her like a child, though his tone was leaning closer to concern. His body language spoke nothing of him, but at the same time could write his book. Stoic strong, and tense his arms fell to his sides, the base of his thumb running over his clean nails. Both fists loosely closed...lord would the serfs be talking if this pair was seen together at this hour. Gaggles of women conversing over their duties, laughing at how the thoughts were dumb. No doubt they would know their lady would never turn from their Duke, but could they stay as strong in her position (d

Beathag: No body was in good health who owned it, standing in the room now. Beathag's blood coursed on but her body was showing the signs of wear in the dull eye color despite the resolute sharpness wit reflected. Breathing hurt, moving hurt. Bones constantly ached but it didn't inhibit conveying messages. A crane of the neck backwards with head tilted up was how she surveyed the Beast of Avaria. Women would cluck in the kitchen, making the beds, doing the laundry over how the Duke had kissed the handmaid Jelenah in his madness when it was supposed his wife was dead, how since some were seeking to surplant his current wife with a better, more docile match. Surely a young, supple thing with a room that wasn't rotten held more appeal than an untamed, useless wench? Besides, it seemed the Duchess was seeking her own consolation or revenge! Let them tell a story: Fingers pushed back helter-skelter pieces refusing to be ruled by the curve of her ear. "Ah dun sleep well anymore." The rest was enough to give her enough energy for the next day, but not enough to summon dreams or even harken the blackness of complete emptiness. The other hand massaged the dull throb pulsing at the back of her head (d)

Aslan Burning: Revenge was a mighty big word, for some a woman, though in a strange way it fit. Some people would think it wise not to stare at another's weakness, but this was twice now the woman massaged the base of her neck; his eyes fell to watch. "That is not an excuse." He muttered in his raspy deep voice before eyes rose back to her own. "In troubled times it is hard to find the rest you need, but as well important." Jesus, Maahes was being a wiseman, but perhaps he was only repeating what had been told to him time and time again. "..but it does not make it easy." One side of his mouth curled slightly, but with Maahes his smile was in his eyes. He carried one of those grins that reached up to the rest of his face. Tugging at lines, and brightening eyes it was like a rare jewel that only surfaced every blue moon. As well something he really should do more often. "Walk with me, tell me about the paintings.." He wouldn't extend his arm at first, but would offer it as he faced the door. (d

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: She looked at him walk away with a half-grin, head tilted to observe the Egyptian bohemoth who wanted to learn about the paintings in the castle. Not everything was as black and white, was it? Bare feet moved with ease over the stone, one hard soled step before the other until she came to the offered arm ."Which paintin' dae ye want tae see n' learn o' first, Maahes?" The Duchess placed a hand over his arm. It wasn't a forward, jerking motion like some might in capturing the limb, but delicate and gentle. Was Beathag capable of anything except loud, stubborn, and brash? (d)


Aslan Burning: The bare flesh of his arm wasn't invaded by her touch, he offered it, yet still chills seeped over his skin in protest. She was a Duchess, and though he truly hadn't a clue where that stood with being Queen or what rank; it did not take any man of true brain to realize he was well below on the ranks of politics and delegates. He was their war machine, bred for the very purpose of keeping peace and removing any threat. Maahes knew little of truly running a household, let alone an entire nation. Rings of silver, and beads of bone were placed throughout his tightly woven dreads as true to his nation--they marked his rank. Old habits died hard, and in truth he just wasn't ready to let them go. "Tommy told me once..." He started to raise his hand to point out the different colors and moods of one, and turned an eager face to her. However as quick as it rushed, the moment he realized how he must of looked, he did not care who heard him, he still did not want to wake others. (d

Set In Her Way: She took it gently for the reason of knowing it was hard for him to offer the gesture to any ou tof revoltion in how it made him feel. The fate of the guards trying to hold him down to his sickbed was different than the fact. he moved with her out of the room and towards the halls. The torchlight caught the sweeping arc of his hand over the colors of the painting in the wood frame. Crushed seeds, flowers, bark, and elements of the wild were the tools that made the colors that were as old as the castle. Beathag found as much colors in him. A prolific sense of purpose engrained, unquestionable, but wanting to know more. She put a hand to his shoulder, smiling before pointing out to the top of the frame, "Aye. This painting is of a lord's lineage all the way from Norway..interwoven with myths and epics." (d)

Aslan Burning: "Norway." The world rolled from his lips as if dipping a toe to test the waters. It started so weak, timid at first but ending in purpose. As was much of his vocabulary. When one spoke two languages often thoughts were broken as the puzzle was put together with the right words in the right dialect His heritage ran pure and strong, much as hers. Dark golden flesh dusted with tones of deep brown vs. those in every painting; fair and touched by pinks. It reminded him once again how different he truly was, but Maahes had learned a long time ago to simply let that go. Inside they all bled the same color right? The Egyptian's amber colored orbs found each weapon first of every knight or warrior. He studied their stance, the way they position the weapon, and could almost complete the painting as if knowing what was next. Was habit no? "I have not been there." He stated quietly breaking free of her touch without thought, habit and moving to the next. Coming across a woman's whose eyes could rival Bess's, with a defiant stance and a sturdy jawline. Barefeet squared away with his shoulders, and thick arms crossed over the expansive area of his chest as the painting was taken in. He made the connection easily and turned a look over one shoulder at her, slightly tilting his frame back. "She is related to you." He said with a slight very small curl of his lips. (

Set In Her Way: Vikings were a race distinguished by the features demonstrated in many of the court. Fair heads, piercing green or blue eyes. Pink blushed on their cheers, flaxen thick braids looped in styles for the women. Every knight and warrior came on horses. Brown dragon ships loomed on the ocean waves telling of sea-crossing, raids, and women among the Celts that became wives. Freckle splotched hand lifted up to point to the woman he saw, "Mm, nay really. But Ah have Norwegian blood in meh. M'grandparents n' great grandparenths, m'father, m'step father. Ah speak the language o' men on Dragonboats as well as the Gaelic..both much better n' Ainglish. Mah Ainglish beh awful." The woman's hair was coiled in braids by her ears, she pointed to another woman, "She became this Scottsman's wife. Tis been tha' way here in the Celt countries, much Viking blood, fer they ruled much o' the continent fer hundreds o' years.." (

Aslan Burning: "I have heard stories of Vikings, from my own people. At first we shared rooms." His eyes grew distant as often Maahes needed to return to the visions to speak of his past. He had been away so long, when he would return to a memory he let himself truly be there again. "To keep us from leaving, they told stories of white men who wore horns, across the sea." As often when anyone returned to memories they wanted to forget the outside grew stiff and tightened, but it was nothing compared to what happened inside his chest. So the General was drowning in his own thoughts and rushed to the surface with a quick question to change the subject. "Ainglish, is it like English?" This would be when a swimmer would be gasping for air, but the stoic beast remained just that. (d

Set In Her Way: "Vikings are conquerors, fer battles, valor, is how one honors the family n' pleases the Gods. The bravest warriors hope tae gae tae a place called Valhalla, sit at the table with their kin, be honored by the the father god Odin. His Valkeyries lead the fallen chosen there. All they did was tae invoke a fear, the dragon ships, the horns, the crazed way a man will gae against whole armies..yet on the same? They have a culture o' many stories n' legends, the family is important, a man will drink mead, but pour out o' his cup tae offer his gods. They live fer song n' story..tae." She walked down the painting, coming to a tapestry showing the MacDonald clan. "The MacDonald clan keephold o' their viking ancestry, every year at midwinter, they set a dragonship afire in float it on the loch, tha' is the lake.." Beathag captured the thrill of the event, each vowel and consanant the torch crisping the hay, making the final sight of the glorious depature of the ship into eternity. In a crowded hall, the thickly accented tongue could have silenced anyone. She sounded, and was, a trained historian, storyteller, musician. A bard. She shook her head as the spell departed. English. He was talking abou tEnglish and she talked about history! "Och, mah apologies. A..." she braced her tongue, "Eeenglish, is just tha'. It comes out soundin' like Ainglish when m'Scotts brogue comes in, Ah ne'er grows up speakin it', it still sounds funny tae meh." (d)

Aslan Burning: He would not apologize for his mistake as he found no reason. Yet, his mind was alive and beyond curious about these men who called themselves Viking. With every attention of returning to the room they had left him, the Beast would never find rest now. Like an addiction he would do his research, at best he could, and would only pray Skye had such a scholar as Abigail. Her patience's for Maahes's temper thus far has been the best. She knew it was frustrating to not be able to read, and he expected it to be like a new form in fight. All he would need was one demonstration, and Maahes would master it. Yet this was his third year in his lessons, but with wars and battles how could he devote the time to it. "Galen was born of these people, his mother.." He tightened his arms over his chest, " was of light hair as this, his father should be dead." His teeth came together in a clench as he thought about the man. "Apollo has forbidden me." His eyes moved over the painting, before turning to face her. Her face caught by the soft lights reflected so much of the very paintings before them. For a moment the General had to take a moment to separate her from the painted faces. (d

Set In Her Way: "If death is ment fer his birthfather, twill come tae him, the Gods will deliver it in edict." In a world where Chrisitans flourished, the old way rolled off her tongue with the same belief those who prayed to the Christ-Child : felt. On another wall was a tapestry of a hunt with men in tartan plaid. Different colors for different clans. "Tartan. The colors o' a house n' a family, vera precious." These people had freckles, dark auburns, browns. A mighty stag had antlers grown for years bounded away from the shoot of an arrow. Ladies with falcons went after smaller game. (d)

Aslan Burning: "There is only one God." He spoke as careful steps moved down the hall as he searched over each painting. Harsh, perhaps, but it was Maahes by now if she knew nothing about him, that single word would be enough. He released his arms and as they fell slowly the tension could be heard as they cried out in snaps and pops. He rolled his shoulders carefully before returning his attention to the woman. As open as his mind was it still closed around some subjects, and God was one of them. "Are your colors on these paintings?" Maahes passed his eyes towards one in particular, the color blue the most vidid notion in the painting. Blue was secretly his favorite color. The same shade of the sky, and when all you know is the barbaric gold's and browns of the sands, blue was a blessing from God. (d

Set In Her Way: "Sae m'mother told her when she 'ad her children baptized tae beh recordin' in the records o' the town.." Murieall, Beathag's mother, had her children's foreheads bathed in holy water, anointed with oil, and given the sign of the cross to protect them from persecution more than dedicated their souls to God in Christ. Her daughters were taught of old ways, stories, supersticions. Beathag swore that the symbolgy in sacred groves harkened to the reality in mother's tales. Avalon yielded up a relative, a woman who stood on the steps of Glastonbury-Tor, or so the stories foretold. From around her shoulder she showed Maahes the colors not in the picture of the hunt, black and gold interweve, pieces of thin blue line, "This is the Aberdeen tartan. Ah ne'er wore one as a girl, family was far tae humble..but..Adam took mah name, n' these are his colors, his n' mine. Ah think..tha' my mother's tartan was somethin' like this. See, our name came from the vera town, Aberdeen. Adam's true name is Maubrey, from his father..sae he took mine tae honor mah ancestors." (d)

Aslan Burning: Outside the windows the black of night started to slip away into the paler side of black. The sun was but an hour or more away, and they were still walking the halls. "Your husband returns soon." A comment more for himself and a realization that the days came closer to closer that he would return home. His fingers came together to brush at each other until one palm came to chase away the chills from his flesh. Maahes's skin had an eternal warmth, that came with years under an unforgiving sun, but he knew what would come with the rising of the sun. One more day without Galen, and one more morning spent shifting through the sands for any sign as the tides would wash away. "I would like to hear of his travels." Though he had no doubt Bess would be more then willing to occupy his time at first. The pair had much to talk about, and many nights to make up. Eyes passed from the woman before him to the night sky that was starting to lose it's hold. "I have kept you up too long." For anyone who knew this brash brute knew him not to carry more then a handful of words with him at one time. Yet, here he was speaking so freely and without hesitation. (d

Set In Her Way: Starfilled midnight was tripping toward the gradual increase of faded dark, then gray. To explain the portraits was to conduct a study in detail she might have missed when the Eastern Wing had first opened to receive the women of the court. She touched the tapestry with her right hand and drug her fingers over faces, trees, and the muscle of the hound. It was nearing summer, but still the time with no sun could mean the chill in the air was felt from the thick mists, the frequency of rain. She found a man in the tapesty similar to the face of Adam, "Aye, a mere matter o' days now. He has been sailin' across Europe." She beckoned him to a door, pushing it open as she took the lantern from the post. Beathag liked the light of lanterns best of all, the way the glass held the candle, throwing it out in different colors, wide hoops and lines. The room was cool for the fire was not lit, but the light showed him a room filled with maps and navigational charts. She showed him a wall, pointing, "He went tae England, Vienna, Venice, Norway...n' here tae Scotland again. Just days away. He went tae make ally or foe with our ideas, tae show them our currency in gold n' silver..offer trade, find trade." Every country was drawn with little ridges for mountains, small lines for rivers. Cities were marked with tiny dots and script the size of a nail that would take a magnifying glass to read. On the edge of Scotland..her hands stroked almost lovingly the Highlands, Lowlands, Southern Uplands, Orkney, even Skye. She loved the land so much, "Here, he talks o' the land is splinterin' in two..one government North, one South, leavin' us tae our own devices, loyal tae ourselves as each king elects if he will acknowledge us. He travels tae learn all this n' sae much more..ah pray he will think better 'pon meh when he returns.." The last was whispered, off topic, the fear swallowed up again as she turned to him, "Nay, there was tae beh nay sleep fer me anyhow." (d)

Aslan Burning: Idle hands wondered over the maps, tracing the lines and marking the few places he had been with an invisible flag. Her words cut through him like glass and he turned his face to her own. "Why would he think any differently?" There was that animal again, rising up like fire behind amber eyes. The deep browns turned gold with question. Rather Bess had wanted it or not there was a formal friendship that ran as deep as the roots of a might oak. Maahes was a loyal man, with a giving spirit. He would gladly give any face a make over for any who questioned or doubted her. Without question, they would have no time to make their own words towards her. He'd rip them apart, like a cold blooded killer, and so many would be wise to remember that. If it wasn't for this woman, the fate of their kingdom could have fallen. For that he was forever in her debt, and would remain like a loyal dog at her feet if she wanted. (d

Set In Her Way: " His grief may bring a rage he rightly may have toward meh, a would tha' may nay beh mended." Beathag bit into her lip, chewing on the lower one before sighing with resignation, " Tis as if Ah may 'ave been the hand tha' did nay pull her from the water tha' drowned her. May prayer is he may know the difference n' if he does rage, forgive meh. Ah'm Lady o' the Isles, n' Lady o' the Castle besides..wot do Ah nay know, if fer the eyes tha' watch m'children should be as all servants are asked: quick, vigilant, n' keen? Was there some malady n' the woman, some misgivin hiddin tha' had Ah known....she would beh alive now? This woman hung 'erself in mah halls, her death haunts meh. There is nay peace fer me, Maahes. The greatest peace Ah knew o' late was when..thinkin' lifes work done, forgiven..I was dead." (d)

Aslan Burning: Every bit of anger flushed away like tears, though his eyes held none. The release was just the same. The space between them was crossed and his hands drew together as he stood before her one holding tightly to the wrist of the other. His head bent to meet her eyes, and in one small little moment; Maahes was simply a man of normal. The beastly brute washed away, and no longer did he hide behind his armor. In a voice that was gentle as well strong, like distant thunder he spoke, "I do not doubt that if there was anything you could have done, you would have." His breath rose his chest and with a slow exhale he released it. "He would be a fool not to feel the same. As you spoke before, your Christian God takes when he feel it is right, it was her time, and if he wanted her he takes her. No hand could pull her back from his arms." Maahes didn't believe in the God as much as he should, as his world was still split between the God of his own. However, there had been far too many times his prayers went answered for him not to believe at all. "To take your own life is selfish, and aids to nothing. She may have felt grief but in turn
offered it to another. Adding to the cries of the rest..only thinking of her own heartbreak." So quiet was his voice, open and reaching out to her. He had hope that Adam would not be angry with her, and would perhaps take his raw emotion out on someone who was less attached; like himself. (d

Set In Her Way: Her cheeks in the light of the lantern proved to be losing colour the more the thoughts were like soldiers taking down an already crippled fortress. The battlements came down around her, leaving them an easy victory to reach the center of the stronghold. A woman many thought invincible, some even deemed a miracle for enduring the brutality of assination, poison, the battlefield..proved to be no super-human emblem to the mortal imagination. Just as his walls came down, her own long ago were flawed in the design. "Christian or Pagan, Ah know she is in a better place..but.."the size of her voice was wrenching, small, compared to her stature, "Ah wanted her tae stay...fer always. She was Adam's little girl, she became my little girl. When we handfasted, our fingers we all pricked, some part o' her flows in meh still, as if she came from m'womb. Ah'm barren, n' kin have nay more children." She looked up to him, what was once no great thing now seemed as scarlet letter branding her as useless, half female. By now he would have heard, or seven seen, the faces of those who thought to offer the Duke their young, supple, fertile, Christian daughters as wives. "He will ne'er see his face in the eyes o' a child, n' Edme was somehow sae like us both." Dry eyes shut against the world, but the pain still rose. The wrist he held, flawless to some, was a different set of truth. Many scars, long, old and new, white and pinker ones. A hand that did not open all of the way, only three quarters. (d)

Aslan Burning: He would release his wrist and slowly extend his hand to take her own. The motion would carry up to her shoulder where the other would clasp gently. "She still is, and always will be." He had wondered where the body was, and knew that her burial could not wait until the Duke returned. He would not force her, but with a small press of his hand would turn her form towards the door. If she continued like this, without sleep it would not be long until he would carry her, but Maahes would be more then happy. "If these halls are what keep your sanity from returning then we will go somewhere else." With a few steps he would release her hand, but hold firmly to her shoulder, thumb brushing against the curve of neck, knowing it had been giving her trouble. "The ocean is not.." He searched for the right word, trying to come up with a name for unreal that better suited the ears of a lady. " so alive with it's sleep. I have learned that the tide rises and falls. Rises like a lion, and leaves like a lamb." Little sounds from the castle could be heard as many started their rounds before the rest woke. All the more reason Maahes wanted to befree of the walls. At night when he was alone he found them less confining, but when the busy day started he was no where to be found. "You have one, a son who could not stand to see his mother cry." His eyes kept forward as he spoke, recalling the night where he had led her child away into the confines of the training room, where the boy let go of his own self guilt. Something he would not be so willing to tell Bess. "The Duke will not be angry with you."So here comes the fun part of trying to figure out if that was a simple statement or a threat. More then likely a good mixture of both. (d

Set In Her Way: "Always n' fore'er, tween now n' the next world." She nodded, holding fast to that as Aodhan had held onto her skirts in the days after the incident. Whenever a moment could be spared, she kept him close to her . The boy was receiving an education of a prince, observing for the first time an eye-witness account for matters of state in defense, charity, civic works, and policy. If he wished to learn of any God, any language, any culture, it would be brought to his fingertips. By the time most children are familiar with their porch steps, he had walked the deck of a ship circling the Mediterranean, Spain, Morraco, Greece. He tasted cinnamon, sugar, and suckled honeywine from a cloth. He inherited his mother's ability to distinguish a voice by an accent, to know the time of day by the sun, wind, and tide. To know he released his guilt was a prayer she hoped had come to pass. Aodhan was strong, but a child sensitive to his loved ones. He never let his female cousin or sister cry, but made them smile. Edme would be a loss he'd feel keenly in playfellow and loved one. His hand steered a willing vessel, his thumb relieving a constant pressure she didn't speak of. He could feel in the stroke how the vertebrae of the neck did not quite seem to join correctly under the skull. If he went up further, he could feel the scar underneath her hair. The woman had been beaten, and severly years before. "The sea tide is controlled by the sun n' the moon, the waves gae round the world n' a tide here can influence a tide e'en far away." Fires would be stirred to life, food would be cooked, chores began ,but they would walk from the East Wing to the passageways beyond. Inadvertenly, they would walk the paths of the estate heads, taking them to view that blue body of moisture slapping against the sand. She missed sailing more than most could fathom, for boats to her were what horses were to her brother. (d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Lord Adam was home again; the bedroom towards the south of the lady's solarium was vacant except for the chamber maids that changed the linens, arranged the pillows, and dusted furniture for occupation by the light changing during the different times of day. Beathag had gone to the East Wing after telling the servants that the marriage bed was too large, too vacant, and too cold without the body of her husband to fill the space left in his absence. She was embarrased to say the least. There had been colder, less sumptious places in her past where the hours between sleep and morning were spent. Soiled straw, stone, blood had been a craddle board as she curled, fetal and listless. Countless tavern beds with her possesions stashed in a trunk at the foot of it. Hammocks on deck swinging in the wind gave her the first taste of the ocean's lullaby long before she knew what the Captain's quarters were. So imagine: a woman who took nothing for granted and fell asleep where fate put her couldn't face the thought of a night alone in one of the castle's grandest room. Circumstance spoiled the hard one until oak became willow-wood, supple enough to arc back in perpetual bend.

Still, the servants were required to keep food, drink, and brevity in business in the solarium with muted steps in the wing. Human interaction became second place to the revival of sound from the instrument that had sat long with no hands on it. The occasional fairy tale for a child or the whimsy of a fancy in passing became practice each day for two or three hours. Sometimes it was rumored to be more. One thus far had been taken to audience while palms craddled the instrument, leaning it against the shoulder.

Beathag sat on a stool as she gave new mortar to the wall made of echoed notes, voice, and breath to seal in the holes left by the absence of the old craft in the Norman castle. The shadows seemed to move on the will of twanged bravado. A serving girl strained her ears to listen and nearly lost her footing on the steep steps winding outside on the walk she was to clean. Memory. Walls seeped it out until they spoke a language that the music translated. On the tapestry being beaten with dust, the faces in the hunt seemed to smile as if the music were the tunes from the by-gone day the women of court went for flowers while the men took spear to boar. By now, one man had caught the parallel between faces in the artwork and the woman who described the history. He said she favored them. She claimed no relation.

But the man did not believe her, nor did the walls, the art, or the tapestry. A walking member of the flesh had been here once. If one looked? In the pictures would be the face of a woman with eyes like Adam; brilliant, bittersweet. In a time of waning ignorance speared on by the rulers, they remained ignorant to knowledge of themselves.

The Duchess went to stand at the window overlooking the sea, and looked down as a chambermaid entered to inform her she was being sought after. " My Lady?" In Beathag, memory proved long in detail with pieces of the long fabric snatched out to prove faulty where whole lengths of life were eradicated or fractured. It was hard to say what made her breathing quicken, her eyes widen. The infamous unseen tendrils began to beat at the schism union in her skull. She winced, looking from the harp, back to the window..not hearing the servant at all until the drink that was handed to her fell. In the crash, she became aware of the girl using her apron to soak up the fluids as the glass was in irrepairable shards. "Were ye day dreaming , Your Grace? You're husbands home and has made you happy n' forgetful of life itself so forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you."

She grinned and quickly let it that be the reason for everything...but she knew...though couldn't fathom why she was...

remembering a time that couldn't have been.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

In Adam’s passing the halls of the Castle days after his arrival, he had seen the maids preparing the room’s regeneration. His inquiries answered with honesty about the Lady Bess residing there in his absence. Nodding, then turning to be on his way, he felt reserved… he understood her reasoning for doing so… and was sorry she endured such.

The castle had cooled that early one morn after a heavy rain… his passing in the halls was met with a joyous sound of strings plucked in precise and coordinated sounds… it was memories that flooded into his mind from years oh so long ago. The melodies seem to draw his near as he made his way down the corridors… his stride hastened and at-length…

As the melodic sounds bounced off walls and echoed in the corridors, Adam drew closer to the source. Halting at the door, peering quietly into the room, he saw a beautiful golden-haired woman, her hair long and flowing sitting upon a stool. Her hands gracefully strung the strings of a large harp…

The present clashed against the past as the melodies mixed in mind and kind - days of his youth… his dearly-departed Mother… her sea-green eyes and auburn hair… Now a man, he hears identical sounds formulated by his beloved wife. Frozen, listening to such melody, Confused, he wondered how two different people from such a vaired life sound so similar??

Suddenly, shocked back to reality by the shattering of the glass… he steps into the room and looks… unconsciously standing near a tapestry, his form hiding the man spearing the boar, but it seemed the woman on the tapestry stood behind him… any similarity of two would be of the beholder noticing such well-known similarities.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The tones of the harp were bell-like and haunting. Scott's harps were often strung in cat-gut, but the Lady favored the refrain heard after the Irish style of strings made in brass and copper. The uniqueness of the high register was also found in the fact a third metal was used. Silver strings were a work in progress for many, but on Skye she'd found that they were available in the city. Secretly, she lavished luxury on the carved instrument. Day after day, she would go to where it was being kept to see the restoration of the sounding-board back, the wide arch. The carvings were sanded. Wittling knife taken to redefine what the march of time was blighting. Gold leaf was applied in outline to the carvings, flecks of diamond dust gave a luminous luster. The hounds were painted white so that the lines of color were whisped into the knotwork. Slowly but surely, the simple instrument of carved wood was beginning to match the by-gone beauty her mother had spoken to her of.

"This, m'daughter, may seem plain now. Traces o' the beauty still reside here. N' e'en without gold, n' gilt. Gems or crystal..it be priceless. History is a treasure trove n' the bard is the ones with lessons. It has sat in the place o' honor beside kings n' high lords in Scotland, sailed o'er to entertain the princes of Wales. Come all the way from Glastonbury-Tor, for the English were nay always attackin' as they are now. All o'er the Isles it has gone. A man may have taken a bard, a singer, and a harper. But the keepers' o' this harp are all: they write songs, sing them, n' play. We teach n' give counsel. Aye. It may be plain. But the history...our history...your history. More bountiful than e'er.."

Muriell's words echoed in the mind of her daughter when the harp was restored, and now? They tinkled out one by one like the shards of the broken glass. Out of the window, down on the pathway, the shadows seemed to be shaped in the pattern of a young girl accompanied by a woman still in the zeal of youth, only sorrow was beginning to eat at the mirth in her eyes. Still, in the presence of the small one, she smiled. "Come, little one" the woman said in Gaelic, "play for me, with your mother. Do you want to hear me tell the story?" Like many lost faces from the past this one's features were blurred, but the dark luster of auburn hair was prominent. How like her mother's it was, only richer, for Murieall had a head like ochered wood, while this one was rain soaked soil. Her skin had the white of Norseman, for she had no freckle splotches like Muriell from working in the fields, but she was familiar. "You've come so far to see me! Muriell, you're daughter is a golden-haired fair one! Are you certain she is no changeling?" From the opposite end of the path, her eyes widened as she saw her mother, clear as a day from the most precious of her memories. Age had not beaten down on her, nor had the deaths of her children. Her shoulders, her nose were softly pocked from too much sun, but the rest of her skin was soft under the sun's heat. Vibrant eyes, a brown with cerulean rims. Beathag touched her hand, as ther mother took hers "A Viking's changeling, perhaps. The Fair Folk are writ with such features, yet in the eyes o' folk she looks like a Norse princess, a daughter o' the conquerors! Mm but she is mine, wrought from womb o' a family livin' in peace these generaions. Conquered n' conquerors. But now tis time fer a story..fer lesson. She plays well, Davena, fer eight years springs... "

Who was Davena?

Adam's footsteps pulled her out of the moment, and on losing it, she felt the sense of frustration mingling with curiosity. Her mind was so splintered, but why were frustrations pulling so hard at shards that never before came awake? How much was she missing? Twas accident,"" she blurted to him, clumsily, going scarlet in the face, "became startled n' dropped the glass n'..Ah did nay disturb ye Adam, did I?" Instead of searching his face for the answer, her eyes fell on the woman who had her husband's face. Following the point of a spear upward, she found a man who fit the whole of him. " Will ye summon Aislin, Adam? M'mind is nay quite as it ought beh, perhaps she might know somewot n' be able tae have remedy."

As the painting continued from the Solarium into the corridors, the light would highlight the contours of a woman a maid observed, then disregarded entirely on her way to do chores.

A woman with striking flaxen hair, cream skin, and the most piercing emerald eyes..

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

“Disturb mae nae… yer playin’ gave mae peace… peace o’mind dat Ah haven’t heard in years many past…” his caloused hand found his chin and stroked it in rememberance of times long ago… of a Father’s unmerciless pressure and his Mother’s remedy… to make music upon a large wooden frame and strings of odd sizes… his sea-green eyes narrowed at the request for Aislin… “Naew Bessie Eve, ye daen’t need the Physician… jus’ sit daewn and start tae play… twill dae mae goot tae hear melodies as such of my years past… and this tis goot faer what ails yae….”

The man clad in the black and gold loose fitting robes and trousers… walked to the harp. His hands caressing the wood as if it was an old friend… fingers nervously twiddled the strings to make odd noises. Never did the tapestry on the wall be noticed by him… to him it was a legacy of his wife’s, with no conscious of his own past… Looking at his beloved wife… “Play for mae… fill my ears with melodies Ah heard but a few moments ago…”

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

"Thank the Gods. Ye needn't listen to me prattle, or play..but iffn it brings ye peace.." she let her words go as she looked to the tapestry, then to him, "Adam, have ye noted that our features appear often in this wing? N' there is no way it should be tha' way..shouldn't it? I feel incomplete, love. Like there is somethin' I should know like the back o' m'hand but e'ery time I come close it slips away into nothing."

The lady looked to her lord clad in the black and gold. She took a hand up to touch is face before she sat down to play," Either I am seein' what my mind wants to see, or there is more to this, to life, then we both be knowin'. I want m'self back. I want it all back. What e'er it was I couldn't remember or can nay recall. It wil come back."

Rising anger, frustration. He could see it twist her face before the pain flowed out into her hands, eventually calming as the harp music soothed the player as much as the listener.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Thank the Gods. Ye needn't listen to me prattle, or play... but iffn it brings ye peace.." she let her words go as she looked to the tapestry, then to him, "Adam, have ye noted that our features appear often in this wing? N' there is no way it should be tha' way… shouldn't it? I feel incomplete, love. Like there is somethin' I should know like the back o' m'hand but e'ery time I come close it slips away into nothing."

The lady looked to her lord clad in the black and gold. She took a hand up to touch is face before she sat down to play, "Either I am seein' what my mind wants to see, or there is more to this, to life, then we both be knowin'. I want m'self back. I want it all back. What e'er it was I couldn't remember or can nay recall. It wil come back."

Rising anger, frustration. He could see it twist her face before the pain flowed out into her hands, eventually calming as the harp music soothed the player as much as the listener.

“Ah ae luv tae hear ye play… tis the music mae Mama use tae play… It provides me peace, sae play on lass…” the charming smile she is use to appears. Though at her comment about the tapestries, he turned to look… the first gaze looks upon the threads and its weave… not too badly done he would assume. Stepping back, gazing at the overall depiction of the scene, he smiles… but at her comment about familiar features… he steps back forward… then his eyes grow large and he turns to see the individual portions of the scene… “Mama….” his Mother’s face was upon the tapestry… a time long ago, sewn into the fabric… The weft threads made of wool or cotton, but the fineries of the tapestry was a mixture of silk, gold, silver, and other colors.

Turning to Bess, as she prepared to play, sitting behind the harp… he walks quickly over to her and pulls her to her feet, then at arms length pulls her to the tapestry… his actions at best surprising. Long fingers point to the light brown hair, lips of red, and pink cheeks… the slim figure of the woman with doe-brown eyes, pert chin and narrow cheek-bones. Then the index finger traces the woman’s cheeklines… “Lass, tis mae Mama, many these years past… how did she come tae be on this fabric?” Of all the tapestries in the Castle, he never paid attention to their contents. His stomach churned and he felt light-headed.




"I love tae play, Adam," the remark came from a profoundly honest place, "The harp is m'self n' I am it. May nay seem like tha' way, but ye can nay leave what ye know alone." She craddled the back of the harp between her hands as her forehead came to lean against it. Memory had taken on a taste; bitter, chalk ridden from dust. If she swallowed it, would she swallow enough of it to act like a medicine to cure the ailment of forgetting? Just as it was all going to be closed out Adam snatched her hands. Instantly, the gauzmer veil was torn apart. Her body jerked forward, her head staying the harp as he strings gave a violent shutter of protest.


One word is able to change an entire lifetime.

Everything that Beathag had known to be true was only half true. She had a brother she'd stood beside for almost a year before knowing they shared a father, and a father who had led two lives. Her past was overshadowed by the knowledge her heritage was incomplete, though would this tapestry, this castle prove to be the light that made sense of the Scottish side? As she looked on the tapestry she felt as if she had never known herself at all. Now it was his turn to see the face of his mother. He asked her how she got there, to which she replied, don't know! Tha' is what I wanted to tell ye.." she pulled him further down, stepping"Adam....I into the center of the Solarium, illustrating the paintings to showcase repeating images. Then in the hall, she showed him the image of the woman was as her...then down. How long had she explored, "I want tae talk to Aislin," she reinterated, " n'then we need to pull the Scholars here..." She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned in close to him. How could the both of them find themselves here?

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Lies!! A whole youth full of lies… His Father had denied him of the background that destiny would now reveal. He knew little of his Mother, save the memories that would flash into his mind… broken shards of a rich past denied by man’s greed… or jealousy.

He had been convinced that little of his Scot background meant anything, but according to the tapestries upon the Castle walls, he was inheriantly more involved in Scottish history thanj he was led to believe. No wonder his Father was hell-bent on being Lord of Scotland.

Showcased upon Castle walls, his life took on new meanings… His awe was bound on the threads of a life… his life… “Davena…” he muttered, his hand squeezing Bess’. Dazed, and a bit confused, his eyes could not be pried from the fabric upon the stone… Then the baritone voice boomed… “Scholars… get me the finest scholars in Turas Lan… “ his voice carried thru the halls of old, echoing until the guards heard…one looked his way, while the other scrambled thru the corridors to find someone who knew the scholars…

The pair, amazed at the revelation, leaned against one another… the strong arm upon her shoulder, pulling her safely to him… “How Bessie Eve? How has fate played us a hand such as this…” Glancing down the hall, seeing the guard… “Yu… yu there… get word to the docks… have the Lady’s ship readied… we leave at high tide…”

She held on to him with tight arms, sighing against his clothing. He smelled of men who are well groomed yet held the faint musk of a man who had worked for what he attained. Closing her eyes, she let it, like the music, carry her away from the faces on the tapestry with the eyes that scrutinzed them for what wasn't known. Should they have known it? A woman releasing a kestrel bird seemed to hold her head aloof, superior. Another seemed to think Adam less of a man for not knowing his own kin.

She looked over her shoulder as the artwork stretched out to include the detailed population of man, woman, and beast. What was it like in a golden age bygone? It seemed prosperity had once never been reached on the edge of a sword. There were a few epic battles recorded in other rooms, yes, but for the most it was history of another sort. Births, funerals, and the life lived inbetween. It seemed to call to her, Find us, find yourself.

The thunder booming over the stiched mountains couldn't prevail against the light pouring through the stained glass. Pages scurried to summon the necessary minds to unravel the great tapestries, to gather the records of who lived here long before they arrived, or perhaps not so long? The feeling of having been here before was one thing that overwon the logic of living in the present. "Where are we goin', Adam," she finally asked as she touched the painted feet of a saint on the glass window, or so she supposed, "where do ye think answer for this lay.." The mistake was that she had admired the work of filgree in the lady's feet, transcending eyes up the sweeping damask silk to her jewel clad throat, only to admire the whole of her to find a pair of eyes that looked out to her only in her dreams.

Muriell of Aberdeenshire.

The great harp of the Solarium, too, was depicting, but covered in the bygone crystal and gold her mother had once spoken of. Names went in a circle round of those she had served as a harper, bard, counselor, friend. Beyond that was another woman...recognized as an aunt from childhood, or so called, but here appearing as the wife of the lordship the harper was in service to. The lord, a Norwegian Scottsman, held hands with the pair of women. All the world went dark save for this image. She left her husband completely..hand pressing against the glass as she wanted to scream.

It wasn't enough to have lost years with a half-sibling, or to have fractured memory.

There were things she didn't know at all.


Stepping up behind her, then gently taking her hand… Leading her to the tapestry once again… in the upper right hand corner… was a small castle on the edges of the sea… His free hand seemed to trace the outline… “Look at the tapestry luv… its an island… Scotland…” his hand waved from side to side… if one would look at it ethereal… the lakes were the sea… houses were islands… Castles were cities… the people who stood on the forefront of the image were ancestors, those who looked like Adam and Bess, directing a hidden message…. “Nae look at it sae hard… Edinburgh, Inverness,…” he points to each… “There is Skye…” pointing to the far left house, then back across to the far right… “There is Aberdeen… look at the man’s spear… the end is at the house… the other pointing thru the swine toward the south…England.” Then he points an index finger point to the woman’s finger, then to a small village. “That is Turas Lan… see how the dark haired woman points to the village?”
He takes her arms and has her face him… “Dae yae see it waeman? Or Ah be daft? Did the person whae made dis, or commissioned tae have it made, wish someone tae one day could decipher such nonsense?” Sea-green eyes look at her with a sense of anxiety…and a bit of excitement. “We bae gaein’ tae Aberdeen… meanwhile, we’ll ‘ave the scholars workin’ day and night decipherin’ the tapestry and the libraries… especially the ones that was found buried in the cellars.”

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

A piece of a puzzle...


Look at the tapestry luv… its an island… Scotland…” his hand waved from side to side… if one would look at it ethereal… the lakes were the sea… houses were islands… Castles were cities… the people who stood on the forefront of the image were ancestors, those who looked like Adam and Bess, directing a hidden message…. “Nae look at it sae hard… Edinburgh, Inverness,…” he points to each… “There is Skye…” pointing to the far left house, then back across to the far right… “There is Aberdeen… look at the man’s spear… the end is at the house… the other pointing thru the swine toward the south…England.” Then he points an index finger point to the woman’s finger, then to a small village. “That is Turas Lan… see how the dark haired woman points to the village?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

History in Pictures


Two days ago the Duke ordered a ship to make ready to sail on high tide, and two days ago the Duchess bid him make sure the ship was well prepared. She had to break away from the history in pictures in order to know that her mind wasn't fading or that she had not lost it. The castle walls, no matter the wings, became too stifling. Not even Aodhan could quell the restless anxiety to be ambitious rooting in the heart.

On the dawn of the third day, Beathag was reunited with the ship in the docks. It was the masts first emerging around a bend, distinctive to the mistress in a forests of other wood shafts looming up as high as the stone walls keeping the many ships safe from harm. Caldonhan's pace quickened at her behest, soon coming around to the fore to see the Highland Duchess in all her glory. Weather worn and somewhat beaten in the months of sail a promise was made to the entity embodied in the wood that made the Lady's flagship. "Better will be done by ye, n' ye shall be untae an empress, m'lady, an empress. Tell His Grace tha' the ship is nay ready to sail yet. She needs to be sanded, polished, painted, n'have her livery put on. Aye, the Grand Lady must be well dressed before debuting again on the court o' the sea."

Her knotwork was wearing down and the paint flecking away. If she was to be the flagship instead of a weary merchant's sea-worn dream it must appear as such. The colors of the Griffin were ordered, new trimmed sails, banners and insignias were invested into the Highland Duchess by the embodiment of the name herself. She threw herself into the work with a zeal so profound even the city fools knew how happy she was. Two more days would pass. In those days she felt the sea rock under the deck of the boat, slept in a hammock in the afternoon sun. The gulls cried out a sweet song as the sail cloth of with the golden griffin caught the wind. Black and golden flags capped the masts, streamers hanging long toward the deck. In the preperations for a sail she found time purchased to consider just where the mighty vessel was headed.

Aberdeen. The name of the ruling family was derived from the city of the same name. Aberdeen. It evoked command, power, controversy. Once? All it evoked were sailing ships and steel by the generation moor's green eyes looked out on the moors through a curtain of wild-childe's wayward gold hair. The hammer rung out, the carving stilus slipped in to hollow the wood. Deep in the long house echoed the last remnants of a past foretold in something beginning, "In the days o' yore.."


The sea had near a hundred miles of water twixt birth place and abroad but in the burning mists she could see her ancestral home taking shape. Thick wood elongating in rafters above thick thatch. Stone was soon to replace the walls, just beginning to. The roof sloped out on either end to form the dragonshaped heads that had been rumored to once been part of the ships that carried the vikings across the blue water. Down the corridor past the lintle post carved with guardian Celtic hounds, beyond the walls where a horse had been painted in knots was a woman who sat beyond in the corner near the great-grandmother. Auburn head reeled back with laughter sweet, brogue flavored Scandavian tongue passing on the same mouth that pleased the Celts with Gaelic. Beathag could almost touch the high cheek bones, the elongated throat to shame a swan. Her mother was so beautiful it could make the heart ache to look at her too long. Two eyes with a rich brown hazel bathed with a touch of crystal for shine turned toward the old whizzened woman in the chair beside her. Two hands curled over the taut copper strings of the family's cherished heirloom harp. Poverty was not for them nor were had they the wealth of kings, but once the harp had been worth a king's ransom. A horse was being led to the stable house, and down by the seashore the skeleton of a ship was being erected. The scent of smoking metal cooling after being dunked in water was prominent. She became aware of the heather, the sage, drowning in the lemon grass. Mother's hands were reached for by the daughter who's touched made the mist wave. Before it dispated the animals in the harp's thistle gleamed: swan, hound. The horse on the wall. Dragons on the roof. Her fingers burned as she drew them back, her mother's eyes seemed to look at her. "Come home, child," they said," So long 'ave you tarried away. Come home."

"Your Grace, is it not time you went home to the castle? Your son will be asking of you soon.."


The first mate tapped her arm gently. At first, she did nothing before jumping back with a start. Finding the man suprised, she said only, "Aye, have my horse readied.." The daydream's last words pulled at her conscience fears to stir them in anxious, unresolved ways. "Come home to what, Mama," she whispered bitterly, " to what do we go to look for.. That was the hard part of a venture. Beathag planned her charts, read maps, and kept close quarter on every inch the ship transversed but in this there was no way to know what the cargo would be to carry or what they would bring home. The past should be left alone. Yet, she reasoned, we are only as knowledglable as our own investigation takes us. As heartsick of intrigues she may have been, there was room for one last chance at an adventure. Her soul begged for it, yearned for it. At times she felt no better than a Selkie who'd lost her skin so could not return to the way she knew best. The hour had grown to the afternoon's retarding light lagging on towards sunset swarthed in hot breezes not far away. She turned on her heel to collect a few things from the Captain's quarters. Manifests to review, the ship's old log books to be recorded by the scholars.

The room hadn't changed much. Her mahogany desk still was fixed to the far end of the room to be sat at with a high backed chair upholstered in stuffed damask silk. Points of pride went into the luxuries of the room. Aodhan's bed was pulled out from one corner while her own still held the same throws on it. Did the ghost of her at night come hither? It meant, too, that the books she sought were still on the shelf above her desk. Beathag strode in. She reached up to the oak shelf. One thick hand-bound book fell down to the floor with a soft plodding noise atop the Persian rug. "Clumsy," she scolded, kneeling down to collect it. It seemed nothing of great value until one looked closer at the gold leafed spine. Parchment pages held the same care of work as a friar in his cell applies to the ancient books in his charge to copy. The elaborate lettering and pictures crept up the lined staves. It was a song book..one that she had not opened but kept for her mother had many. This one had never peaked interested until now. She rose thumbing through the collection. Rare songs, fables, ballads. Heroism, sorrow, love, humor. Stories cast in poetic writ. It was meant for the hall the likes of Griffin Castle, not the forgetful shelf of a ship. Where had it been before? She dusted the cover off with pursed lips to become the North Wind to make it clean.

A gold letter signified this book had a twin. Bah! Her possessions, memory, and past. Skewered! She would have tossed it back where it had been save for what made her drop it in horror at realizing the gold leaf curled into a deeply inset painting tooled into leather..

The same house in Aberdeen, the same as upon the tapestry, the same as that she had grown in..

The dragon's mouth opened on the Eastern face of the roof, as if swallowing all emotion it encountered, leaving room for nothing but stillness.

[hotarokaori]

The famed Eastern corridor had the not-so-famed Eastern scholar out of the books and into a new part of the castle to explore. The newly appointed High Scholar had heard mention of the corridor in conjunction with mysteries and tapestries, intrigues of people long passed. Kaori hadn't paid much attention to the whispered speculation and talk. She was trying to instead submerse herself in more of the historical records and working out lessons for young Aodhan. She hadn't any time for whispers and secrets. While any girl enjoyed a good yarn, she was more intent on busying herself with actual, witnessed, recorded events.

Perhaps someone should have divulged the information to her sooner that the Duke and Duchess had ordered the kingdoms scholars to work on the tapestries of the Eastern corridor.

She had been bent over a book for a good half hour, and while she had spent most of the time reading, for the last five minutes nothing her eyes touched ended up committed to memory. The damnable deep, brown eyes and charming smile of a far too handsome Spaniard kept encroaching upon a mind that was supposed to be devoted to studies! She had resolved herself to pushing pleasant thoughts aside so that her eighth time reading the paragraph she was on could actually be read when one of the elder scholars she had seen about the castle approached hesitantly.

Pretending she hadn't spent any time daydreaming, she looked up blinkingly at his approach, standing. "No, no lady. Please be seated again," he said, gesturing to her seat and then taking one himself. "I mean not disturb you, Lady Hotaro, but some of the others wish to know when you would like to study the work in the Eastern corridor."

Kaori wasn't often disturbed while studying, and her brows had lifted in interest at the man's interruption. His words however, made her lips form a tight line and she adjusted her reading glasses and pointed at the book. "I'd rather work on important matters." She looked down at the page, sighing as she realized the gentleman seated with her was clearing his throat to continue.

"Well, umm, yes, I can understand that. And while I understand you'd like to devote your time to the importance of the archives, I'd also think you'd want to devote some time to that which the Duke and Duchess decree all scholars devote their time to."

"What?" asked Kaori, looking up with wide eyes.

"Aye, Lady! The tapestries!" He looked around leaning forward and lowering his voice. "There is a great deal of speculation involving the images depicted. They don't appear meager decorations but upon closer study, historical documentation and riddles within. The Duke and Duchess both want their best people working on the tapestries and since you were made the High Scholar..." He trailed off uncertainly, not quite knowing how to finish that statement.

"Aye me, why has no one told me?" asked Kaori a bit sharply, giving the man an exasperated look.

He stared a second before shrugging, "Well, I think we all thought someone else would inform you?"

Kaori stared back, resisting the urge to groan. Leave it to scholars to have vast intelligence without a whit of common sense. Standing, she shut her book. "Please make sure the corridor is cleared. I shall go straightaway."

"Who would you like to accompany you?"

"No one."

"No one? But Lady Hotaro, many scholars have been working around the clock on these tapestries, incapable of figuring out what has been hidden! Would you not like to take someone with you who has spent a lot of time on them?"

"What is your name, Sir?"

He blinked before saying, "Kevin Conn, Lady."

"Sir Conn, please let them know that I would like to see these tapestries with fresh eyes, without any previous speculation or ideas diverting the natural course my mind would take upon seeing them at the first. I am by no means attempting to slight anyone, but I would like one chance to study the works with my own eyes and perhaps come up with ideas not yet explored." Deciding to turn on at least a little of the charm, she smiled before biting her lip. "Can you do that for me?"

Kevin nodded hurriedly, bowing before saying, "Without hesitation, Lady Hotaro!" and off he scurried, leaving Kay smiling in an amused fashion.

Ten minutes later, her glasses hooked in the neckline of her cream colored gown and writing tools in hand, she quietly murmured, "Very well. Reveal me your secrets," before stepping up to the first scene.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: Humanity depicts a story in color, form, shape, and line to display memories that are lost when death silences the tongues who could speak the description of it. What would the mouths and tongues of the olden days say of the tapestry unearthed from a dark cellar? Would the glorious day of a hunt or the memory of a ball be remembered in the paintings that were flooded with the scope of Eastern light? The restoration of the now famous East Wing meant that long stretches of stone corridors were alive with sound again. The uncovered and the forgotten were put forward for review. Once, the General had taken notice of the painted faces on the backing of wood. It was in the Solarium that faces of a hunt revealed the features of the Duke, and now it was the High Scholar's turn to look upon the famous tapestry depicting this: lakes, houses, castles, and the land. Only if one looked at it closely...the lakes were infact the greater waters of the sea, houses were islands, castles were cities. A man with a spear pointed through the swine of a farm South to what was discovered as England..a woman with dark hair pointed to a distant castle, and this was Turas Lan, Skye. Another woman of aburn hair stood with her hands to a harp, pointing out toward Scotland: Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Inverness, Glasgow.What did it all mean? Were there things to be found? The rest of the tapestry had yet to be deciphered. Where their meanings, words? Was a clue in another piece of art (d)

Kaori: Her eyes narrowed as she studied the scene before her, her head cokeing slightly as if she were in a museum and studying some fine piece of artwork too closely. Kaori had always wondered why people had to see more than horses upon fields or men at war. Why did people insist that certain angles were the proper angles to view art, or to look beyond the image into the meaning? Art was beauty! Why pain one's head so by thinking so hard! Alas, as it stood, this artwork was meant for just such torture, and torture herself Kaori would. It took her a few minutes, but at last she did see the hidden map, her eyes widening and making her step back. Her hand lifted to point to he with the spear, her mouth working silently. She looked to the ladies, but pointing at lands of their own. "You want me to look there... And you there... That's Skye. And you... Scotland is that?" She let out a little breath, her head shaking. "So clever, so clever..." She rubbed her face a bit, taking note of each of their expressions. Were they smiling? Mournful? Or were they just mocking her with secretive little smiles and amusement in their eyes? Was this a joke or something more crucial? She started jotting notes with a charcoal pencil. She of auburn hair held a harp. A true relic or artist's fancy? He held a spear. Was there nothing for the dark haired lady to hold? (D)

Beathag: So many questions, so many answers that they must have swirled around for certain. Speculation lead to hypothesis, hypothesis was a theory waiting to be validated or disproven. The process had gone on for weeks according to the papers, the talk, the speculation. This tapestry was a sequential story but there was so much more to it than that. If only there a key...an account...or was there? To stand further in the hallowed sanctuary of the court women was to know why the search had thus begun. Painted faces of the Norwegian lineages, the Highland lords, and among them the features could be deemed: an eye, lips, hair or ears. A stance assumed that was eerily similar to people the High Scholar knew. This castle was a reflection of something, and perhaps the best way to learn what could be learned thus far was to speak to the clearest pieces of the incomplete image. But where was such a source? Music soothed the savage beast, thus it calmed the heart of the player who was inspired to moods of a deeper sort of late. Maids would walk by, clothes in hand, a basket of linens. "Ye know Her Grace is quite good 'pon that harp, Tilly." She grinned while the other couldn't help but to agree, "Aye. Ye know her moods may grow a might dark but the way she gets over it makes the whole place a bit brighter aye? I wish had music in me hands." Tilly shook her head anew, "Becca, the cow and dog have more chance of it! Why, you can't carry a tune in a pail!" In a swish of skirt, the Lady Scholar was given a curtsy by each before they turned a corner toward more gossip. Yet the music was the true thing on their mouths, for with no talk to dampen it the sound was resplendid. (d)

Kaori: Kay was studying the image so hard, she didn't even notice the maids until they were right behind her. She had avoided the overworked and often self-righteous scholars, not wanting to taint her own visions with overcomplicating angles and whispers, shades of light and squints. It was the maids, though! It was the maids words that brought her from that deep-rooted place inside her head searching so carefully for answers and simply listening to their wordsthat made her realize that it was Bess! Bess was who the spoke of, Bess was a harpist, and Bess would likely have answers. She looked to the woman on the tapestry with a harp in hand and gasped. "Look at you! I mean... Look at you! Oh, if you're not Bess' mother I will resign today." Listening hard and hearing the music the old mains spoke of, she lifted the hem of her dress almost clear to her knees and started running in the direction, trying to find the woman playing the lovely instrument and knowing answers were to be found at the source! (d)

Beathag: Down the hall towards the source of the sound she would run past images that had not yet been studied. What did the walls say, the stained glass? Unknown to them, what were thought only a few tell-tale pieces of a sign were only the beginning of learning that the entirity of the wing, and the castle itself, was a puzzle box. What did it hold? For whom did it hold secrets for? A few other servants watched in baffled confusion was the woman showed such a lack of modesty! "Oh my stars, ye can see...why, up to her knees! Where does one need to go in such a fashion?" Another set of younger women prodded the elder for putting on airs as they tripped away towards the other chambers. The guards wouldn't mind so highly, for the women of court were so high spirited! Closer and closer she came until the notes were crisp, clear. A sound so beautiful it could hold people spellbound, and often did! The page lingered just to listen to the exquisite sounds of a by-gone time. How long had she known how to play? Just how well did any really know her? It was a questioned she asked daily as she came to learn of herself (d)

Kaori: By the time Kaori reached the source of the beautiful sound, her hair was falling out of it's bun and her glasses had nearly jumped right out of her collar, hanging on precariously by the bottom-most portion of one leg. As she made her way into the room containing both harp and harpist, she released her skirt, trying to smooth it down, but ended up bent over, hands on knees as she tried to catch her breath. Oh, Kaori wasn't out of shape, but she had sprinted there with nary a thought given to distance or speed. One hand lifted, a finger pointed as if begging a moment, clearing her throat as she straightened. Oh, how unceremonious and rude such an entrance was! She might as have slammed the hood of a keyboard right onto the pianists hands! At length, the finger pointed at Bess and she panted out, "Your mother... on the tap-tapestry... The harp!" Her hand reached back to pull combs from hair that wascompletely unsalvageable at this point. Best to let it down and try to start from scratch later. (d)

Beathag: The boy was about to make his announcement as he inhaled, only to bust out laughing! He would cover up his mouth quickly as one of other women who stood nearby to attend to any need went over to help her, if not to scold her for disturbing her Grace, which left Her Grace to dampen the harp's strings midsong. The scene was comedic enough to foster up a half grin as she studied the huffing, puffing High Scholar. "Oh fiddle! Did I get in trouble mam! I couldn't annouce her ye know..." the page was all of nine, crossing his arms over his body to which Beathag began to chuckle, "Nay, nay m'friend ye did well! Ye tried..tis allthat matters. Now, now Constance really. Don't look at her like tha', she ran, she did nay break up the royal house. Constance this is the Lady High Scholar, Lady Kaori.." Well, at that Constance dropped a curtsy, apologizing at once for offending the prestigious person of the Court. Once waved away, the little boy would go into talks with Constance about how hard it was to annouce streaking women, was he supposed to do that? Maybe if they came by slower.."Calm down..calm down. Ye huff like tis the last breath o' the world, what is it.." Then she listened carefully...harp..mother...and a heavy breath she would inhale to be released with a slow sigh. Smile diminished slightly as the riddle seemed to have reached the Scholar's ears. "I'd hoped they'd let you in peace about tha'," the English became softer as brogue was tamed, for no story could be told if one did not understand, "Aye..tha' is my mother, so Adam discovered and thus it became a matter of mystery. The harp.." was in her hands! Being played! "Tis a little different than it was then, but in the tapestry she is full dressed, if you will. The harp of a royal harper." (d)

Kaori: She managed a curtsey in return that almost made her double over, but she manage to straighten up, her cheeks full of color and her eyes brightened from her sprint. Her heart rate was starting to return to normal, she did at least look under control, and after another cough, sound it as well. She listened carefully to Bess and moved to the harp, falling to her knees to look at it closer. "There's so much more to study yet... Even the stained glass holds pictures I have not yet been able to study." She was studying the harp now, each of the figures depicted, a hand hesitantly tracing the woodwork. "Where are the dressing? You have them, I presume," she said, not really wondering about the possibility. Of course Bess would have them tucked away someplace secret and safe! (d)

Beathag: She stood if only to observe the ardent scholar so hard at work. It could be said that Kaori Hotaro would enjoy an advantage no other had sought to attempt, nor were many permitted to have. The proximity with her sovereigns to study the sanctuary up close, to study them up close. The prospect of life under a scrying glass sat less in good standing with Beathag with the passing hour of each day. "Aye. This is the East Wing. Would ye like to know where youstand now or should I leave ye be with the harp? Ye seem to have a love affair a'brewin n' far be it from me to stand in the way of such devotion." If the woman had lost her breath to learn, than it would be ill-fitting not to give what was known. Adam was beside himself making arrangements for the trip to Scotland to solve the mystery there while she had spoken with the Old Chamberlain. Riddles begetting more riddles, she sunk slower into a place of brewding where the storms in her are born. Patent half-grin coaxed up a little of the sun's light to portray the youth she enjoyed for a woman of thirty-five. (d)

Kaori: Exasperated eyes rose to meet Bess' and she stood hands held up in supposed supplication. "I beg you my forgiveness. I'm just... enthralled," she confessed, managing a grin. "I saw the map, of course. The areas the trio called our attention to. I saw the harp. I saw she was your mother. I heard you playing the harp..." she said with a with a winding motion with her hand, as if telling herself to get on with it. "Aye me, so many questions! What thus far have you and the Duke discovered? Surely the study being devoted to the tapestries have yielded some results by now!" Surely! And since the others so hard at work had definitely discovered more than Kaori had, she would have to study pieces that hadn't yet gotten attention such as they deserved. The stained glass, for instance, had caught her eye on her travel by and if she weren't so determined to speak with Bess, she might have halted in her steps altogether. She felt as if she were being tugged in twenty directions and it was hard to focus on a one. (d)

Beathag: Continuted looks of pardon met with the exasperation to smooth the frumpled Scholar's sense of manners to know that all was well. Putting her hands out, the familiar mixture of callused fingertips with silk-smooth palm confined the excited woman for a little bit longer, "It is alright, there's nay need to make apology. Ye are doin' what m'husband wishes to be done, slow down., for m'sake or I can nay keep up." The attention to detail was imperative for consciousness didn't capture numerous questions without fracturing them beyond comprehension. Her secret to tending the inn was that attention to detail, not attention to the words on inquiring mouths. "Aye, they've learned a thing or three from work so far, the history o' the castle chiefly. Wher ewould ye have me begin, Kaori,what they learned or with the harp" Poor Kaori, how hard was it to ask just one question when she now stood in the room full of many! The shape of the windows with the symbol of an intricate shape, the painting of the hunt beyond them. If one stepped up to the higher plateu of the Solarium, a man holding a spear could have easily been Adam (d)

Kaori: She had listened attentively, her hands in Bess' as she spoke. Her eyes did managed to drift about the room and there was a hunter with a spear... a relation to the Duke as surely as the woman holding the harp had been the Duchess' own mother! That begged the question now ... Where was the spear? Shoving that thought aside, she looked to the harp and then back to Bess. "I came in search of you and the harp, and those I have found. I would hear of the harp first, if you would tell me. I can refer to the notes of the others to discover what they have learned, or you can recount it to me if its not yet documented." Kaori had forced herself to calm down, not wanting to get too far away from her own thoughts and never get back to ones she found so important. Kaori sorted out what she wanted to hear first, and was now willing to listen to it reasonably. (d)

Beathag: The Duchess lead the High Scholar to sit on the nearest step below them. To study, to learn, to grow. Recorded wisdom wrote itself too on human skin as the off the shoulder gown was able to relay the story of scars to be the ghosts of wars, and as faded as the salves of a Physician made them, time still wrote a legacy on the hide of a woman who had lived thrice the life beyond her years. She seemed to belong in the gown of olive tone, for beneath it weresplit skirts of a richer shade of grass, but at once it was no wonder why boots were always on her feet. Beautifully unorthodox as she straddled the lines between what was and what would be made. "The harp was m'mother's, and was passed down. As a girl I knew tha' she was trained as a bard yet did nay serve o'er long for marriage to my father. I learned tha' many from her family were harpers and served. Seems we were as she said n' more tha' she ne'er was able to say, or tha' I saw but lost in memory as years went by. .." She stalled. Green eyes turned to Kaori as if now were the time to know who had once been only Bess in Orkney. She had been enigmatic then, and to glean even a hint of old life ewas like gleaning a chance to stand behind the bar if you weren't granted permission. "..Twill probably come as somewot o' a shock tae ye. Ye know me ye none o' ye 'ave really known me until now." (d)

Kaori: "So the harp has been a part of your life from birth... and a part of your line since well before your mother. Gads, what an important relic." Her brows furrowed as she thought on this, her head shaking. "We never saw any of this in Orkney. But then..." her eyes widened as she remembered a fleeting moment in the castle, one of merriment and smile. Her eyes closed and she laughed lightly. "You moved away from the floor to take up the harp... By the Kami, I must be daft!" she breathed. Her eyes moved to the much finer piece than the one played the evening Kaori recalled before looking to Bess. Kaori would always know her by that name, lest propriety beat her upside the head and forced her to start using the word, "Duchess," forever more. "The harp then? This harp. You've had it all this time? You were keeping it locked away, hidden somewhere?" she asked, looking at Bess carefully and trying to fit together yet more of this puzzle. (d)

Beathag: "Aye, the harp has been apart o' m'life since before I was even thought of, it is a very old thing. Heard story o' it, heard it played but it wasn't until but a few weeks ago I realized n'....remembered a little o' where it had gone Where it had been. Mostly m'mother journal is what cracked m' head open.." There was a journal? An account? Why had none come close to asking such pertinent questions? They'd uncovered the history of the prior ruling families, discovered Adam's mother was one of the children of the former Lord. But why did not seek deeper to any intimate relationships. It was a puzzle of what one really knew or would seek to discover. Of how close people were now and had been then. "Aye, yes. I had the harp in Orkney, n' the Shetlands, n' many a port town in Scotland. It moved as I had moved...after.well....the vera last time I went home many years agae...I found where it had gone..n' had tha', n'a few pieces with me since. Twas with me in the Lion's Mane, was with me in the Castle from time to time." (d)

Kaori: She looked at Bess expectantly, wanting to know who the journal had been given to for study, and hoping to the Kami that a competent name be spoken. Had that tapestry beencreated in her life, with her knowledge. Would she speak of it, of its importance, of the secrets concealed? There was so much that could be answered by such an innocent record. It astounded Kaori how a simple glimpse into Bess' former bedchamber might have revealed things that were hidden from her for so many years! Kay had thought of Bess with such envy, for how easy life seemed to a woman such as he. She found such pleasure in simplicity, yet seemed to posses such strength! Kaori had always admired her, never realizing just how many layers the woman had, and how difficult life truly could be. (d)



Beathag: Aye, a simple glimpse in the things in a chest. In the life of a landless knight, and now in the halls of a castle popular vote and deed had put them in yet it seemed they were supposed to be here all of the time. "No one has m'mother's journal," she furrowed her brow in disdain at the thought. Her voice hung on the edge before it fell into softness, "Wot e'er is in it I've told those tha' ask, there is nothin' tha' has been found in it thus far they dun know. But tis not leave m'side since I found it, poised above m'desk on the Highland Duchess...m'ship..or more the fleet's ship now. It had been sitten fer years n' I ne'er read it. Kaori.." She wanted to say something but it seemed to fade back once again. Beathag was puzzled over where to begin, so she began at the beginning. "M'mother is pointin' tae Aberdeen. We o' the old tribes say it by the Gaelic way, Obar Dheathain. Our sirname became simply where we'd been from all tha' time, from wot m'grandfather said we hadn't one really afore tha'. We were a family o' the conquerors n' conquered. Tis probably why I got along with the Norseman in Morganna's court sae well. We are Highlanders with many a man from Norway in the blood, sae we spoke both at home. Did nay learn Aing...English," she corrected her rogue, thick tongue, "Till I was closer to yer age. I..was born...the second o' four children." She had siblings? She never spoke much of anyone of home, of the place in the Highlands, yet she knew Scotland better than any of them, " M'father..m'father was gone when I was young sae m'other two younger siblings were from m' second father, a man named Amhlaidh, who was the only father 'ere I knew." Six feet and an inch beyond of stature stood with the height of Scandavian lineage over toward a table where she lifted the journal. Coming to sit down, the tooled leather cover was still exquisitie after so many years, stamped with the knotwork of fae hounds and swans. She opened toward the back of the book to the style of painting common in such eras.."Tha' is m'elder brother Brycean tis me," Two golden haired children with startling green eyes, the lad was perhaps in his teens by then, "these two are Moyra n' Caldean..brown hair like m'mother n' Amhlaidh.This is a life I should remember...but tis the pages tha' tore open any time I spent here visitin' as a girl..or why. Ye see..I don't...have..many memories as they ought tae be." (d)


Kaori: Kay ran her fingers through tousled hair, unable to believe that no one, not even Bess had looked in that book. By the Kami, what Kay would give to see it now! Frustrating as this revelation was, Kaori would neither criticize nor chastise, regardless of whether or not it was her place to do so. She could see that the topic brought some degree of pain to Bess, so she simply listened with quiet, sympathetic eyes. She let Bess speak at her own pace, she didn't push or try to interject. When the painting was revealed to her, Kaori looked at the picture, a small smile lighting her features. Of course that child would be Bess, undoubtedly considered bonny and beautiful to any that beheld her. She stared a few moments before gently covering one of Bess' hands with one of her own. "And do you not want to open this book and see what you are forgetting? Aye, there may be some sadness in here, but there has to be such happiness, too." Her smile was gentle, the type of smile only mothers can seem to pull off. "No one woman would write so much unless she had happiness to put on paper. No one writes if all there is to recall is misery." Kaori couldn't even begin to understand why the book had been neglected and not read front to back one hundred times over. (d)

Beathag: "I read it daily," she confessed to her. "Tha' is how the Scholars are given information to study, or I read it with Adam. There are happy things n' here, n' sad things, n' many things beyond tha'. There is simply nay way tis gaein in untrusted hands beyond this place, this wing, this castle. We can nay be asked questions on things tha' if we were to remember...tha' is the rub, n' it would be our humiliation fer a people to know the extent o' our confusion when the lot of Skye has endured enough. We've endured enough, n' tha' is a burden o' the elders tha' I can not give to m'children." Children? Question after question, enigma wrapped in enigma. "This is the castle tha' was given to Clan MacRaurie many years agae, n' from tha' Clan one generation a woman bore no sons, n' the land passed to his daughter tae observe the rights of the first born to inherit. So the land fell tae Lady Davena MacRauri. This is the home of Adam's mother, her family.." she leaned back against one of the pillars, drawing her hands to rest on propped up knees. "Davena's mother was named Laura o' Aberdeen. The Scholars know tha', worry nay." She lifted a hand to emphasize that a great many things were articulated as either the book foretold it or the Aberdeens were privy to remembering if they were able to be inspired to do so. "Tha's Lara. In the hunt there, 'pon the black stallion. Auburn headed, like her daughter, n' like m'mother. Ye see..tha' means tha' the families are o' relation through a marriage or sae..it was..an honor...to have a wife from, as they called it then, the tribes at the mouth o' the two rivers Dee and Dun, at Obar Dheathain. The Norse Senachains and the Scottsman alike. Umm." Another inhale, another bit of knowledge. " The Aberdeens, m'mother is..we are from, a long line o' bards gaein' back..Gah...hundres o' years. My harp is 300 years old, there be pieces on it tha' are older still. They could nay tell mem this as a child fer fear o' somethin. Tis hard to think tha' the longhouse where i was raised, sae happy, m'mother was in hidin'. But by m'seventh year if nay earlier..she knew o' Davena, she had met Davena's mother afore her death. We played in these halls as children. I know she was revered by Davena's father, m'mother, n' installed here as the High Harper. I know we've been High Bard in the halls o' the King himself. Adam is half English, half Scotts, the English from his father. When the castle was first o'ercome in Davena's youth, she was sent out to Edinburgh with this harp as her dowry. By the time I came about m'mother had it..sae it transferred to her hands because she was vera skilled. Adam's mother played, too, it seems she marveled at m'mother. Tha'.." She pointed over toward others in the hunt waiting at a table of refreshments, "Is Adam's grandfather. M'relation was his grandmother, but I'm a more distant cousin. M'head splits tae remember a name, but the old Castle Chamberlain is in blue Castle now, pulled up from the depths o' the prison fer things nay one wanted him to e'er say. Gods help me, dun know if we'd e'en wish to learn anymore..if we do nay, someone may know more for ill, if we do..it continues to break our hearts" She let the book lapse in her lap. Murieall's words looked up at the daughter who'd read them many times o'er. " I have m'mother's book...I have her song books..n' she points to Aberdeen, so in time tha' is where the Duke makes ready to go....but I have nay....been home in fifteenyears.." (d)

Kaori: Kay breathed a small sigh of relief. She thought Bess had said she wasn't reading the diary, and was glad she had been mistaken. As Bess recounted details of the past, she listened closely, but felt Bess was being too hard on herself. There should be no shame in a loss of memory, yet Kay could still understand why she would keep that a very closely guarded secret. Oh, but everything that had been learned! It seemed to go on forever, history stretchingout miles and miles should it ever go down on paper... Yet there were still mysteries to unearth. It was mind-boggling. She wet her lips before saying, "I'm going to see if I can't unearth some documentation on why the chamberlainwas imprisoned. I would think that if they were trying to wrongly imprison him, they would have come up with some excuse. Mayhap he needed to be silenced for some reason... But what? She wondered how much he knew of the tapestries and their secrets. In the mean time, she would set to study the stained glass. That seemed to be attracting her, calling her from this room to discover more. There were so many angles to explore, so many things Kay wanted to learn. Not for herself, but because she knew it would bring peace to her friends hearts. She stood, looking over her shoulder. "I would like to get back to the east wing and study something. Do you mind?" (D)

Beathag: "We assume sae far tha' since he was the last o' the old household, ..the Lords o' the Clans were puttin' him away to keep the mouth shut on the last raid o' the castle when Adam was still a boy, in England. His father has a hand in this, he is the favorite o' King Edward. The poor Chamberlain is mad at times, he was below ground for nearly 40 years.." Kaori had no idea how hard she was upon herself for a loss of memory, or how harshly it had been stolen. If the tapestry directed them to England, she would go like a stoic slab of granite. She had done business within the years in England again, but had no desire to be anywhere near his majesty's court or his arms of the law, never again. She stood up and went to sit in the bend of the wide window to rest the stiffness in her back from the low seat of the floor. Like this puzzle, the Duchy and the Court itself broke their bodies to pieces for this country. Pillars stretched round with engravings of Celtic swans, hounds, and knots abounding. Such beautiful artwork was the keen eye of a cherished heart preserving history when others were loathed to forget it. In fact, the swans of the journal could be seen in the pillars, along the back of the old harp (d)

Kaori: Kaori had a lot of work to do now, and a lot to go on. She had so much to think about, and that wing was calling her back, begging her to unearth mysteries and to find things that were missed. Looking to Bess, she smiled to her. There are some things I would like to study before returning home this evening. I will make sure to let you know if I discover anything." She exhaled a soft sight before walking toward the door and looking back over her shoulder."I'll make sure to be properly announced next time, as well." She curtsied and with her own swirl of a cream colored gown, she exited the room and headed back for the east wing, this time making sure not to offend any who saw her, even if her hair was left flowing down her back. (d)

[hotarokaori]

Kaori had returned to the East wing, completely driven by a desire to do something worthy and something helpful. Skye had become her new home, the place for new beginnings and happiness, and more than anything she wanted to pay back some of what she felt she owed. Adam and Bess, the Duke and Duchess Aberdeen had entrusted Kaori with a position that put her in contact with them frequently, entrusting her to the tutelage of young Aodhan. They had very willingly given her their trust, and finally she felt like she could do something to feel deserving of it.

She was quietly murmuring to herself as she headed back toward the tapestry, earning herself odd looks from passersby. Kaori hadn't even noticed they were there. There was something missing and it made no sense. Reaching the painting she pointed accusingly with both hands, one at the harpist and the other and he who held the spear. "You have a harp. You have a spear!" Both hands moved to the woman holding nothing. "You have nothing! Why?"

Kaori stared for some time, her body just as still as the figures frozen in time upon walls covered in fabric and canvas and delicate colored glass. She sighed, frustrated. "Look at your face, my lady... A face such as that has something to say." The lips, however, remained quite still. "What is your piece?" she yelled almost angrily at the dark-haired woman whose hands were empty. "The harp, the spear and what? What is your... THE BROOCH!" She jumped up and down once, seeing the beautiful piece at her neck, sudden laughter leaving her lips. "The brooch, oh, the brooch, of course! I-" She suddenly cut herself off, staring. "I've seen that before. No, no, I've seen that before! Where have I seen that?" She started pacing, her hand moving through ebony locks as she thought on this. The shape, where had she seen that bloody shape? Music suddenly hit her, beautiful and clear. Music. Shortly after that recollection, Bess' lovely accent, speaking to Kaori. But try as she might, she'd not be able to figure out where she had seen it.

Sighing, she started back down the hall to study something else. She went back to a stained glass window she had seen on her mad sprint for Bess, seeing again that beautiful woman of auburn hair, playing a piece on the same harp her daughter would someday grace those halls with. It was a beautiful piece to be certain. Did it hide a secret of its own? Kay stared at it just as she had the tapestry, looking for any type of clue. But nothing was jumping out at her.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she noticed something odd. At the very bottom of this window, there was a piece of metal frame encroaching on the glass. What artist would allow such a thing? It had been carefully laid against glass of dark gray to disguise such a blemish, but it seemed so pointless. There was no reason for it. Kaori's eyes moved to the top of the window and though it was harder to see this time, again! More metal frame set against panes of dark gray glass. "What in the world?" she asked, touching that metal piece at the bottom with a confused frown.

"Why would they do that to you?" she asked the harpist, her head shaking. "There's no reason for this, surely they had skilled glassworkers working on you, they'd not let just anybody!" A maid was rushing with wide eyes, trying to run and curtsey at the same time to get by the lunatic High Scholar. Pivoting to make her point to the maid she simply said, "They would be better than that!" Turning a full 360 degrees, she was once again facing the glass window. This time her finger traced the frame and that was when she found it.

There was a gap. Not a huge gap. Not a gap anyone could really notice. But the frame of the window was not tightly set into the stone the way any reasonable mounting should be. Kay slid her nail along the opposite side of the frame finding another seem between frame and stone making her eyes widen. Certainly the window didn't come out!

Kay looked up and down the wing, making sure no one could see her. If she broke the stained glass window she'd have some serious answering to do for her zeal. Very carefully she pressed the edge of the window along the frame to see if it would come loose. At first nothing happened so Kay moved her fingers up higher, pressing along the frame again. She was just about to give up when she heard a protesting squeal and felt the window budge. Her heart leapt into her throat and she braced herself, expecting to see the delicate glasswork jump from the window to be broken into a thousand pieces of so much rubbish. Instead, Kay could see that while the side she had pressed had pushed out, the opposite side had moved in. Her eyes jumped to those metal pieces and she laughed allowed, her hand jumping to her chest. It turned! The window turned! Those metal pieces weren't part of the frame, they were concealing the bloody spindles!

Carefully holding the opposite side, she pushed again. The window protested and creaked, but it was bloody well turning! When the window had done a full rotation she looked at it frowning. At first glance it didn't look entirely different. It took a careful eye to see the glass was cut oddly, angled outward and not flat like the other side. It was beveled. She looked around the glass, frowning. She looked on either side, trying to see if there was anything behind it. It made little sense.

It wasn't until she righted the glass, setting it back as it had been that the shape of the brooch came to her in such clarity: Again Kaori heard Bess' voice as she had earlier, and in her memory she looked over her shoulder and around her golden hair to see a stained glass window. A window in the shape of the brooch! It was bloody well worth a try!

She gathered up her skirts for another cross-castle sprint, but remembered the scene she made last time. Calming herself, she walked quickly to the Solarium, making sure to offer polite nods and curtseys along the way. Before too long (but longer than it had taken for her last journey to the room) she was within the room again, this time alone.

When she first set food into the Solarium, however, her attention was snagged by something else. It was the painting depicting a wild hunt. Lords and ladies, horses and dogs, all of them bent on seeing their hero atop his steed bring home a mighty stag to brag about. That scene was almost enough to distract her from her newest focal point, but she found herself turning back to look at the window she needed to inspect.

She smiled as she looked upon the window shaped like the brooch, shaking her head. She laughed as she saw the same metal pieces upon the glass, just like the other. "You have spindles, too, don't you?" It took some pressing and urging, but at length, the window surrendered and turned for her, making her smile. The glass was cut oddly again, but that was it. She felt frustration starting again, when something caught her eye. She looked down to see a beam of light was hitting her chest, right where the humming bird pendant Marcos had given her lay. She stepped to the side and the beam of light then struck one of the prince's attendants.

"You!" she accused the attendant, laughing aloud. "Who are you, what are you doing? Oh, by the Kami, you geniuses!" She studied the man but he was simply pointing at his prince, as if to tell everyone around that he was the one who deserved all the attention! The prince was the one to behold, not the man gaining Kay's attention at the moment!

"Why, you old codger? Why should I divert my attention from you when you are the person pointed out to me?" Kay gently touched her finger to the one pointing toward the prince, tracing a line to the man atop his mighty steed. As she moved, however, she could tell the valet wasn't pointing at the prince. Nay. He was pointing at the prince's spear. As soon as her finger reached the spearhead, however, her nail caught on something, forcing her heart to stop a second time. Was she tearing a priceless work of art? When her fingernail caught, however, a small cloud of white dust had jumped outward. Kay suddenly could see an outline she couldn't believe pushed into the artwork.

"No, you are not!" She looked again to the pointing man's expression, which very much seemed to say, "Yes, I am!" Pushing her nail into that groove she had found, she gave a little tug outward and gasped. Jutting out of the painting was the actual spearhead, cleverly painted and camouflaged into the artwork. There was no doubt in her mind it was the same spear depicted on the tapestry, and then here it was again, hidden in a work of art. "I don't believe it!" she screamed, into the empty room, grabbing the spearhead and ready to run and find Bess, hopefully in her gardens.

Reeling on man in the painting she exclaimed, "I could kiss you!" before hurriedly rushing out of the Solarium. Again she remembered the scene she had made before, but after only a few strides exclaimed, "Oh, bother!" Her dress lifted upward to her knees once more, the spearhead held tight as she hastily ran for the gardens, hoping Bess was to be found again.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Kaori: The Nihonnin was tearing through halls again, getting shocked looks from ladies and impressed looks from gentleman. She was short, but that didn't stop her from having an impressive set of legs! Not even feeling out of breath, through the doors that led to the gardens she ran, resisting the urge to shout for Bess and instead using almond-shaped eyes to scan paths and grounds, rushing along with the spearhead she had discovered held tightly. She had so much to tell her and it was taking too long to find her! (d)

Beathag: The Highlander recieved her fare share of looks from the ladies while the men stood stoic guard around the beautiful Griffin Gardens. The warmth of color was a rioutous explosion in a dreary world! Over Kaori's head the bowers of branches were heavy with yellow blossoms as the way opened toward blooms of lily, lily-of-the-valley, Spanish and Persian roses. The hills offered their own color of Scottish bluebells and heather as the natural mountan came down into the designs of man. The Duke had insisted on beauty to surround the beauty of the life he'd uncovered so that at any time one would be lost to it. It was as if one couldn't tell where the gardens began and the natural world ended. Somewhere in this pleasing aesthetic a woman was to be found, save it would be through a gate the Scholar was directed, leading toward open fields, fresh water, and vast trees. (d)

Kaori: Finally Kay spied that blonde head of hair and ran for it, a relieved smile on her face. My, her hair was completely tousled and her cheeks high with color, but my did the Nihonnin look alive! "Bess!" she called a few paces shy, her eyes sparkling. She released her dress and shook her head, giving her an apologetic look. "I mean, Duchess." Another shake of her head, "I mean... Oh, whoever! I found it!" She couldn't get it all out fast enough! "I was in the east wing, and it turns out the stained glass window of the harpist rotates! It bloody well rotates! And then I noticed on the tapestry, oh, she wasn't holding anything but she was wearing a brooch! And the brooch-" A gasp for air was inhaled before she continued, "-the BROOCH is the same shape as the window in the Solarium! And it rotates, too! And the light pointed at a man pointing at the spear and there it was!" She held out the spearhead to Bess with a proud smile on her face. Yes. That all made perfect sense to the High Scholar. (d)

Marcos: Marcos had left the ship and began to make his way to the castle. He needed to check on Argebto in the stables but more importantly there were couple of ladies he needed to see. The Spaniard strolled past the gates, noding to the guards and asked the where abouts of both the Duchess and his Kaori. The guards would chuckle and point to the gardens where apparently his senorita had just ran to. His brows arched, finding little humor in it as it may have been something important. Then again, if it had been he had hoped the guards would be acting on it. A slight shake of head and a shrug of shoulders were made before he started his way toward the gardens. No Captains coat this eve as he was wearing simple trousers and a white tunic. His black boots as always and with him at his side his rapier as Marcos was never a man to go anywhere without it or his well hidden dagger.<d

Beathag: It came to pass that again the High Scholar arrived before the Duchess with flustered face and a story to tell! Features scrunched into soft wrinkles in the corners of her eyes as the smile ensued as a sign of amusement. She stood from beneath her seat beside a tree resplendid in white blossoms that fell softly in a shower mingling with sunlight. The tender environment could inspire peace in the bleakest hearts; it was hard to say what it was here that soothed the constantly brewing ire of the soul, "Ye slowed down a little since the first time," she nodded, but then wore an expression of confusion. Panels? The windows..then it was not only the art as still pieces of the past, but pieces of a greater puzzle. In gazing at the spearhead she knew that her mother would have known this, that those in the tapestry had seen it devised, perhaps using hidden tools from years before to hide their own secrets."M'mother would have recorded such secrets..n' if tha' is so tis in her writings. N' if tha' is so..the East Wing need beh thoroughly studied. Ye will gather a pair o' trusted folk with ye.." There was no way that even with this revelation she could lay the lineage of her, her husband, and the continous revelations the court learned of the previous soveriegns like apples to be plucked from the tree. " N' study it further.Adam will wish tae know this as soon as possible..how did ye find...Kaori ye astound me." This was said in utter admiration. At the arrival of Marcos she would shepard her friend over toward the Captain, "Captain, good eve. Ye Lady was just uncoverin' secrets o' the realm.." (d)

Kaori: She was a fury inside, bursting with excitement and the desire to discover more, find more clues, and let the secrets be revealed. If it took hours... days... weeks, she'd bloody well do it! She could scarcely believe she was standing in a garden and not back to work in that wing of the castle, learning more. "I can show you! I can show you how I found it all. I got lucky, I confess, but-- Please, take this its not mine!" She tried to hand over the spearhead, but as soon as she realized Bess had addressed someone referred to as Captain, her head jerked to the side. An even brighter smile appeared on her face (if such a thing were possible) as she regarded Marcos. She managed to execute a curtsey for his behalf, spearhead still held out for Bess to take as she stared at Marcos. That was a pleasant surprise! "It's very good to see you, Captain de La Costa." Manners upheld, they were in the castle, after all! But it was easy to see that she practically bursting at the seams, wanting to tell him everything she had just told Bess twice as fast. (d)

Aegraine: Between leaves of flora, a tiny spider wove a tapestry of her own, unseen in plain sight; the best of hiding is right before eyes unware.(d)

Marcos: Marcos continued to close the distance between himself and the ladies as he was spotted by those sea green eyes of the Duchess first. A bright beaming smile was given at her address to him and once he was with them he would bow. "Senora Duchess... and Senorita Kaori... what a pleasant day this is... si?" He asked in the heavy spanish accent. His dark eyes shifted from the Duchess to his Kaori and he winked. "I hope I am not interuptting anything..." <d


Beathag: "Nay, ye aren't.." The Highlander had a voice with the thunder rumbling on the distant hills. Between her fingers the old spear head came to be held against the dying light of the sun. Leaving the couple to their formality, she examined it closer in the waning light. Her fingers caressed the worn crevices of what had once taken down stags or mighty boards to become the talk of the court at grand parties, "Nothin' is as it seems," she mumbled softly as her back came to rest against trunk of the tree. It seemed fitting she looked at the distant past beneath the tree where a future was once promised to a young girl. It was Edme's resting place, though on the opposite side of it they stood nor would she reveal such now. Wait, what was this? The light fell into the shaft, where on closer inspection the beveled marks formed the insignia of the window, the brooch..in Gaelic, it read, "The arm of the King reaches long.." It seemed no one but she stood there as she walked beyond the talking scholar and captain of the sea, a member of her own fleet.Confusion passed further into shock as upon the other side..she knew upon that which she looked. The far reach of a Griffin talon..had the rest of it once been on the spear.."This is the spear head o' the Lord o' the Isles....the Prince ..of the Isles as it was long ago..Kaori...Kaori?" She blinked at it..at them..as her head began to throb. Had she seen this before, seen something like it? The marks? (d):

Kaori: She bit her lip and stared at Marcos before finally saying, "I'll have to so much to tell you later! This castle is unbelievable!" Never before had she been in a place so positively rife with secrets and puzzles, mysteries and the clues to unlocking them! This had become a passion to her, her thirst to learn more growing as her desire to prove her own self-worth seemed to finally be fed. She wanted to tell him so much, but as she stared she could just smile. It was so good to be there, to be so happy, and then to have him at her side. It was almost perfection. Hearing Bess, however, she looked over worriedly, her eyes widening. Zapped out of her star-struck bliss, she quickly rushed to her side, a comforting hand placed to her arm as she looked at her full of concern. "What is it? Are you well? Can I fetch you anything?" Old habits died hard, and Kaori would tend to Bess as dutifully as any of her ladies might. She knew full well it was no less than Bess would do for her. (D)

Aegraine: Upon a slender leaf, one white and gold stripe catapillar nibbled round patterns; secret signs of a butterfly in the making.(d)

Marcos: Marcos would let his dark gaze drift between the two women a lil longer, noticing the Duchess off to herself in her mind. The woman whom he had come to think of as a dear friend seem to be deep in thought and looked as if much weighed heavily upon her as her expressions showed it as so. He grew quiet, watching until Kaori spoke and he smiled to her. His head tilted a bit and his chin lifted while his brows knitted together. It was a look of amusement as he had not yet seen this side of Kaori yet. She was so.... alive and energetic and with seeing her like this he smirked before he replied. "Si, you will have to tell me a tale soon hm?" As Kaori moved back to the Duchess side, he to would grow a bit more concerned and stepped closer. "Senora...es usted bien?" ( are you alright?) He asked as a hand came to her shoulder in a friendly manner.<d

Beathag: " This..the markin'...the brooch...all o' it I've.....I've seen it afore.." The whisper was strangled as if hands clutched on her throat, "Songs...the songs. The Chamberlain..he..he sings. The songs he sings. Whence the brooch o' burnin' gold tha' clasps the chieftain's mantle fold, wrought n' chased with rare device....he..he isn't crazy. I..remember him' singin' another song, m'mother sat nearby. We were there! " She pointed over towards trees across the lake..to which she went over towards the bridge of stone leading over it. "We...we were there. He said. ' The King the King! How high he sits on his steed, the sun it glints on his mantle, his retinue fine. His spear..it makes a the infinite line twixt himself n' glory e'ermore. The King, the King! The killer o' the great stag...the mighty boar.' He called me little changling..n'...he called Adam...the quiet stone..fer he..spoke vera little. This was passed down tae the prince, he said..from the other Lord..who was once called King o' the West..long ago.." Her hand combed through her hair as she groaned. "Fook...all these clouds." (d)

Kaori: She was listening intently, wishing Bess didn't sound so ill as she spoke. It was simply compounding Kay's concern. When Bess pointed Kay looked, almost able to see the scene just as Bess described it. If not for her concern, she might have been able to smile at the image conjured. As Bess continued she at least sounded a bit better, her voice strengthening. She looked at the spearhead before looking at Bess, quietly saying, "Calm yourself or you'll do yourself a harm and I'll be the one put to blame," she said, managing a small smile. It was funny that Kaori found herself at liberty to tell anyone to calm down! She cleared her throat and said, "You found the harp and now we've found the spear. Do you think the brooch is somewhere hidden?" Kaori wasn't sure if she should just drop it and save it for another day. She didn't want to distress Bess any further. Her eyes worriedly looked to Marcos, unsure of how to proceed... (d)

Aegraine: Ants scrambled up and down the ragged paths between tree bark textures. Unceasing. Like memories they ran back and forth, retracing the past.(d)

Marcos: The Captain listened as the Duchess began to speak in riddles and song verses. His eyes narrowed and he looked to Kaori with concern and worry, thinking maybe she was growing ill and needed rest. He said nothing though, waiting to see what would follow and with that the worry would grow less as she seem to be a bit better. It was obvious the women were set on finding answers to so many questions. Riddles, clues, puzzles all decorated the walls and halls to of* the castle. Telling the tales to days of old, secrets not yet revealed but perhaps soon all would be known to those that sought them. His eyes would look to where the Duchess pointed, picturing things as she described. He then looked back to Kaori and cleared his throat seeing she was at a loss on what to do as well. "Eh.. perhaps I should go and fine your Lady In Waitng..si? Or maybe another that can provide and better serve you than I...." He then looked back to Kaori and cleared his throat seeing she was at a loss on what to do as well. "Eh.. perhaps I should go and fine your Lady In Waitng..si? Or maybe another that can provide and better serve you than I...." He then straighetned and looked between the two. At last his eyes rested on Kaori. "Mi armor... I will go...find her Lady and then I must return to mi Nereida for a last check in on the crew. I hope to see you home soon..." His hand never left the Duchess shoulder until after a gentle squeeze and he would bid his goodbye. "Senora, por favor...forgive me but I must take my leave. I hope to see you again soon mi amiga..." The Captain's hand left that shoulder and he stepped closer to Kaori. A quick peek to her cheek, a wink and off he moved as his destination was first the ship and then home.<d

Beathag: It was more than riddles. More than happenstance clues. "This whole castle..it's..its an old puzzle box. It..treasure. Gah, tae hell with bein' calm." The Blonde was as impassioned now as the ebony haired scholar, only now it would require her penchant for stalking halls, for staring into space to pull from it the intangible. Had Adam been doing this too? She merely looked to them with a cant of her head so that one might acknowledge the social graces of hello and farewell.. Ther ewas more, there was more, and she'd be damned if she went to bed without knowing another piece. (d)

Kaori: She had to laugh at Bess' words, understanding very well what she meant. Sighing she bit her lip. "Would you like me to stay with you? I can see if I can help you piece more together tonight." Kaori was very pleased with her success this evening as it stood, especially now that she was coming down from her high. She actually felt a bit drained, but she was eager to work on this more at the same time. She would let Bess make the call for her. Odd itwas that Kaori actually wanted to be home. Not a fortnight ago home was the last place she'd want to be. Company had become so much more agreeable since then, however. At this point, she minded not dividing her time between work
Warden Hotaro: and home, for she found them both to be agreeable places to find herself. (d)

Aegraine: Little brown wings arched and opened into flight as a beetle sought fresh grazing in the leaves above.(d)

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Log Entry: Entered The East Wing [Members - 4] 7/15/2008 09:52 PM

Set In Her Way: - Villages, farms, and scenes of life. The vivid tapestry layers took away from the fact that the lady who pointed to Turas Lan was Adam's mother, Lady Davena Maubrey, the man who pointed to England was the lady's father, MacRauri. The woman who pointed to Scotland, once the land where the people called their king's home? That was Lady Murieall Aberdeen, the mother of the stalking, scratched woman who passed the three of them in the halls, "Nay more secrets!" she told the lot of them, "Nay more. Call the court as instructed! If tha' ishaste ye are slower than old men!" Then the request came that would make the armed men double back, "The Chamberlain. Bring the Chamberlain from his rooms n' bring him here.." "Here, your grace..but." "Do nay make me repeat m'self." A lure for temper was left out and if he was not careful, the Duchess would clamp down upon it with little remorse. "You should have your lady tend your arms..what have ye been about?" Kendrew came up and captured her wrist, but she pulled them away. The light of the last sun came through a window in the shape of a brooch worn by Adam's mother. Across the way, the painting of a hunt had been hiding the true spearhead of the old monarchs in a painted phisode. So then, one could assume the room itself was a phisode, for one panes of glass were turned on spindles, a way was shown."Bring the Chamberlain. When he comes none but the court will be in this room, includin' ye. There will be no additional guards." The knight backed off to do as he was told, but made it a point to take his liberty in use, "You are mad." "Aye, n' so is he. But nay as much as he looks." (d)

Warden Hotaro: The Nihonnin was loath to be away from the castle due to recent events. To call her obsessed might insult her, but only because it was the truth. This evening, clad in a dress of pink and a silver circlet set upon a head of black hair braided down her back, she could be found in the library, pouring over books and tomes, records and chronicles, anything that might lend a hint to the secrets of the East Wing. She was reading another useless bit a young page came running up to her, not bothering to be quiet. "M'lady, make haste! The Duchess wants ye now and she seems tae be in a frightful mood!" Kay smiled at the lad and nodded. As she lifted the hem of her skirt and started to rush away, he was close on her heals. "The Solarium, Lady! And, eh, mind ye skirts!" Ah, Kay's sprints about the castle had made the High Scholar famous! Minding her skirts very well, she hastily made her way to the room, hesitantly peeking through the door and making her way inside. "Duchess," said Kay with a curtsey, again with the bloody formality! "You beckoned?" (d

Crossofthesword: ::Robb would have been heading into the solarium although his dress was a little less formal than many others he still bore the same regal attitude that surrounded him came naturally when he was in a castle. His uncle had made certain he knew how to behave in a castle. Oiled leather covered his body the red band on his right arm bore the gold tree of the Knights of the Red Branch's insignia upon it. He still wore his sword though this one was more for decoration than for fighting. He watched the lady brush by quickly and not knowing exactly where he was going he decided to follow to see just where he ended up. Hopefully in the Solarium as he had origionally planned.:: (d)

Set In Her Way: The Lady who had summoned them looked less the part than a knight in armor, and a fine maiden with a circlet of silver upon her brow. The greens of her gown were marred with dirt, the hems soiled beyond salvaging. Sleeves were unbottoned, cuffed up over the forearm. Nothing hid the scratches, lines, and proding of the overgrown fauna from view that had been her destination over the bridge. " I found the door." It was as if Kaori should instantly fathom what was upon the Duchess' mind as she spoke, golden hair wild across her features. With that and the imposing Scandavian height, the Highlander could have been from the Nordic land of the giants. "The door, the back o' it..anyhow. Tis a way out, nay a way in. There is a door..in this room. Tha' goes tae Gods know the hell where." Blunt precision got to the heart of the matter as she turned her eyes to behold the knight from a place on afar, " I'm nay dressed to receive you, but m'thinks tha' is o' little nevermind now. Wot business have ye, n' make haste. Soon, m'ears will be occupied, iffn ye indulge me beggin' your pardon." Decorum, thy name is not Beathag Gavina Aberdeen. She appeared less the lady of unusual comportment and more the side of talk that had fought on the fields of the wars, or gone down to the raid in Sleat (d)

Warden Hotaro: She had taken in Bess' appearance with hardly a second glance. She knew her well, and while it was a bit alarming to see she had scratched up her arms, the dirt hardly deserved a blink. Kay had sighed as the woman spoke, or nay. Looking to the page that had been following her, she gently said, "Please see if you can fetch me a clean, wet cloth? There's a good lad," as soon as the Duchess' attention diverted to the knight that had followed Kaori imposing : or nay. Looking to the page that had been following her, she gently said, "Please see if you can fetch me a clean, wet cloth? There's a good lad," as soon as the Duchess' attention diverted to the knight that had followed Kaori in. Kay then proceeded over to Bess to gently inspect her arms for less superficial cuts that might need attention. Her eyes spared a glance to the hole in the painting where the spearhead had been hidden before looking back to Bess' arms. Door? What door did she speak of? How could there be a door in this room? Was it another hidden piece to the giant puzzle they were working so diligently on? She looked past the knight for the page, wondering what would take so long in fetching a clean cloth and dampening it! (D)

Crossofthesword: ::Robb looked at the women as he entered. He stepped aside to let the page pass, he moved farther into the room. "Good Evening, I'm sorry I am not dressed in propper attire to greet you, I am Robert McKeown of Man" he would say with a smile. The charm that the curse of youth showed in the bright light of his smile. "How are you both ladies?" he would ask holding out a hand to the closest one.:: (d)

Set In Her Way: "Mm..at oods, Sir McKeown. Our engagement will be havin' tae wait. Though if ye linger, ye may as well get a history lesson.." That clean, wet cloth may never stand a chance at touching her the way she began to pass. If charm were the curse of youth, a fevered temper was the curse of her lifetime. She began to touch the walls, the window ledge, as if searching for a switch, a trigger that might jog the mind. Good to her word as it was law, Kendrew saw to the bringing of the Old Chamberlain from his rooms in the Blue Castle to a place he had not been in thirty years. "Look for the General, the Lord Marshall.. Sir Windsor, I am not particular as to which one."" Another chore for the guards to accomplish as his place was behind the old man who walked with a bow-legged stride, whistled, muttered song or wondered how times had changed when he was beneath the ground. She picked up the journal, tapping it, "These words beh good, but memory is e'en better. If anythin can be uncovered the Chamberlain will know it..then he can remind m'self n' Adam..yes." Aye, she sounded no better than the Chamberlain, muttering, pacing. (d)

Warden Hotaro: She frowned as the page came running up to her with a sopping wet rag that was dripping for the bulk of water it had soaked in. "Thank you, dear-heart, but never mind." Disgruntled, the page ran off to get rid of the item he had fetched at Kaori behest, not liking to be sent on fool's errands. As Bess was searching the room, she took the hand the knight offered, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nice to meet you, Sir McKeown. I fear you picked a rare evening for an introduction." Instead of following Bess' search about the room, she was letting her eyes do the searching from a stationary spot in the room, looking for anything that might like amiss. Her eyes moved to the painting, the pillars and the brooch-shaped window, wondering what more secrets the room can have to reveal. A door! Where might a door be? It was somewhat vexing to know that she was missing something, even after recent successes. She was calm and contemplative for the time being, trying to work out this one without her normal flourishes. (d)

Crossofthesword: ::Robb smiled, "As I'm beginning to se" he would say to the lady. "Then we shall wait upon more formal terms to conduct our meeting m'lady" he would say smiling. He would notice the womans wondering eyes, "M'lady are you looking by chance for something?" he would ask his knowledge was very limited upon what would be taking place this night, only from what he had heard as he traveled through the markets this day.::

Set In Her Way: "Ye came to me in the gardens why won't ye come to me now. When I want ye to split m'f-in head open ye will nay damn well do it....tis no matter.." She nodded, muttered, nodded again as soon the hall rang with the sound of armored guards escorted a man with a penchant for rambling the acinine, the insain. Save for now his thoughts went still as he stood in the hallway. The Solarium to his back, he wouldn't noticed the women could watch him as he looked upon the faces of his master, his master's daughter, and their harper kin. Taking off his feathered had, he would bow as he had in days of yore. The Duke would ask where the Duchess was only to find that none would answer him straight off as he made way into the home to seek respite. "She..she be in the Solarium, Your Grace," curtsied a girl as she pointed, "They just took some guests n' an old man tha' way." It wasan accurate report save not complete, until one of the guards pulled on Kendrew to inform him that instead of the General, the Lord Marshall, or Sir Balian it would be the Duke who arrived, "Tis e'en better. Mayhaps his Grace can calm the rantings of a mad man AND his damned wife. Pardon me. Go down tha' hall and if you let that man within ten footfalls of any good woman.." He had a habit of being lecherous and leering. Just because the Highlanders could stomach it didn't mean the more delicate could. " My Lord, My Lord! This way..come..this way. It seems tha' answers have been found for you by the Scholar, your wife has remembered thing further....and now she has called the bloody Chamberlain to fill in the blanks.." (d)

Ignia Ferroque: Adam returns from the docks, ensuring the Duchess is ready to sail... The steps to the Castle doors seemed extra long this eve... much had transpired of late within his own mind... oddities that was best left in his own head.... mainly for fear people would think him insane and not fit to rule... his black trousers and black surcoat trimmed in Gold a bit dusty from the road, was soon met by servants illing to serve the Lord of the Isles. "Enough... Ah kin dae it maeself... where is the Duchess??"

Warden Hotaro: Kay was a little distressed, unsure of what to do. Should she move to receive the old Chamberlain? While she had not before had the pleasure, she had heard he was quite mad. Hearing the Duke had returned, however, had Kaori breathe a small sigh of relief. If Kaori could not calm Bess, at least her husband could. A brow quirked as she heard Bess make mention of a restriction set upon the old man. Kay was a lady. So was Bess. Well, Kay was adept at taking care of herself, and at one point it had been her job to take care of others. She was not worried for the sanctity of her own virtue, at least. She looked to the door as if hoping the Duke would be standing there already, shaking her head and looking to Bess. "What would you have me look for. I cannot deny, I'm dreadfully confused. I didn't know there even was a door to search for. Since remaining stationary had yielded poor results, she started looking about the room again, her hands feeling over stone, canvas and glass, looking for something that might catch her eyes. Her head seemed so full with previous findings, however, she could hardly concentrate enough on new ones! (d)

Ignia Ferroque: Adam had heard of the Chamberlain, but as yet had not met him... if he was insane, Adam could understand... being downunder for so long, knowing full weel, he himself could not have lasted that long... now for some answers... surely Bess and her scholars could come up with something...long strides took him down the hall toward the solarium::::

Chamberlain: The way, I know... yu I do not..." pushing Kendrw to the side and the thin man muscled his way toward the tapetry... bowing as if the images were real... "G'day M'Lord... M'Lady... tis been many years since I last seen ye..."

Set In Her Way: "Twill all make sense soon enough. M'whole life Ah've been confused, Kaori. E'eryday part o' m'life is in a constant fog for wot I can n' can nay remember. Nay more.." The old chamberlain was bowing to the images as if they were real, but something was real and it called behind him, "Good day, Chamberlain. I have need o' ye. We are goin' to fix the past now. Little Changeling wants her memories back." She smiled to him, a glint in her eye. Was there one in his? Notice the gritting of teeth as she held out her hand to the old grandfather of the way things were, a motion that would have made Kendrew blanch if he were there to see it, "N' Your Master's son wishes his memories back to. Let's find them taenight." (d)

Warden Hotaro: Kaori, as the man was ushered forth, turned and stepped forward. She did, however, mind a ten pace radius as Bess had suggested and not followed. She dipped a curtsey in greeting, and then went back to her search. A door... A door had a knob ... a frame ... hinges ... and a keyhole. She was looking for anything that might resemble those things. The pillars had fetched her attention now, her hands feeling over the carved swans and hounds, looking for something that might seem odd. And Kaori was so close to missing the most recent oddity she could have kicked herself. "What in the world?" She stared at a pillar before rushing to another... and then a third. No, no the pillar she had come across most recently was DEFINITELY an oddity! "You're different!" she accused, rushing back to the pillar her hands feeling the engravings of swan and hound, light, lilting laughter leaving her lips! "You're different! But why?!" she asked, looking over the engravings, her eyes wide and searching. She was on to something, and that fired up Kaori that had discovered secrets of windows and paintings was back! (d)

Ignia Ferroque: Adam walked down the hall he could hear Bess, Lady Koari, and a scaggly old man's squeeky voice... as he neared, the crooked old man stopped paying attention to the Duchess, and flirting with the scholar, only to see the Lord of the Isles standing nearby.

Chamberlain: Then he sees Adam walking to the hall... the old man's eyes grew large... and he fell near prostrate before him... "Oh M'Lord... tis really the Lady Davena reincarnate... but yer Da's eyes have yu..." his voice rummbled... and low as his nose near touched floor... the old man began to mumble...

"Whence the brooch of burning gold,
That clasps the chieftain's mantle fold....
Wrought and chased with rare device,
Studded fair with gems of price...
On the varied tartans beaming.
As, thro' night's palerainbow gleaming,
Fainter now, now seenafar.
Fitful shines the northern star..."

"Tis yu have what it takes... to earn the grade yu make... " he smiled... as a strong hand takes his arm and bids him rise... "Davena's hair yu now have... yer Da's eyes bore yu still... find the gold and make yer reign..." turning to look at Bess, his hand points to her... "Found yer heart so true... best be sure for yu know who... cometh again to rape the land... "

Set In Her Way: Adam would be heir to recieving a most incredible sight. The new High Lady Scholar was combing through the most intimate, personal room in the Eastern Wing while the Chamberlain of the old house fell prostrate to his feet with ramblings to share. Beathag herself was undone, long hair, a gown with ruined hems, and cuffed sleeves revealing infinite numbers of scratches. "Aye, Adam is my husband. We need yer help, Chamberlain. Remember, when ye took me n' Adam to play in the gardens, way in the backways..there was a thing carved into the mountain, lookin' as a door. You would say to us, ' The King, The King, how strong, hold bold he looks upon the hunts of old. His mane as a lion's mane, his spearhead a'lifted like a waring Dane he comes now for the boar. Remember..remember Adam," She looked to her husband now as she held his arm, "The engraving on the door.." From out of her pocket she produced the spearhead Kaori had located, holding it up to the old man. One side had the embevling of the brooch's shape, the other? What else but the beginning of a Griffin! " How do ye find way to end up at the start of where tha' door."

Warden Hotaro: Kay, upon her latest discovery, Kay was on the edge of her proverbial seat, wanting to tell Bess to come look. Ah, but the distractions were many, including the arrival of her husband and the Chamberlain. As the Duke entered, Kay offered a low, formal curtsey, quietly saying, "You're grace," before standing erect again. She was positively bursting to scream, "Over here! Come take a look if you please!" Alas, Kaori wasn't quite that rude, so instead stoodguarding her prized find, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet as she tried to keep her excitement contained. (d)

Ignia Ferroque: Adam was frustrated at the ramblings of the old man, but his tilted a bit... for something remined him of his mother's words many years ago. Glancing to Kaori, he winked then looked back to the crooked man... wandering eyes went to Bess as he listened... then the old man interrupted::::

Chamberlain: "The boy so glee, with the Changling played... while Mothers all the harp did sing... happy all... tis father came home..." then he looked at Bess and smiled that toothless smile... "Many a door they be... twist and turn if yu can find me..."

"With a grin that filled his wrinkled weary face...
"Gem! ne'er wrought on Highland mountain,
Did the fairy of the fountain,
Or the mermaid of the wave,
Frame thee in some coral cave?"

Then the old man sauntered toward Kaori... his hand finding her arse... and nothing but a smirk.

Set In Her Way: Beathag had listened to the old man rant and rave for days. Just as lucidity would capture him and sentences of sense moved beyond his mouth something trigged his madness anew. Kaori was subject to his...want of women that had Beathag rolling her eyes, "Fook it all. He makes sense, he's spoken tae me n' made perfect sense afore. He knows who you are...who we are..now, nay just then. I can nay take another day ' this not knowin shyte." The end of her rop ewas reached as she breathed heavily, moving toward where Kaori was to get a glimpse of what she'd found, all while ushering the old man's hand away. If he were younger, more robust? Gods help him, ah, but the expression all but changed as her fingertips moved over the swans, the hounds in the knotwork. "Adam...Adam..come 'ere....come 'ere.." (d)

Warden Hotaro: Kay smiled sweetly as the man grabbed her rump, not a dot of pink touching full cheeks. A firm grip to his wrist pulled the arm free, and about six or seven paces into him backed him away at her insistence. Of course, at such proximity, Kay was able to find that old tools still functioned. That was a shock... and something she'd have been better off not knowing. Finding a chair, she forced him into it with a shove. She was a strong little thing, not half as frail as she looked! Of course, Bess' lack of concern was due to the knowledge Kay would have matter well underhand. Once the old man was dealt with (for the moment, at least), she rushed back to both the Duke and Duchess, beaming from one to the other. "Do you see? The engravings are different here! Far more defined, deeper than all the others! And I bloody well know I've seen this indentation before, but I can't figure out where!" It looked so bloody familiar, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be so fortunate as she had been recalling the shape of the brooch. (d)

Ignia Ferroque: Adam walked to the images that Bess anKaori looked at ... his fingemoving over the rough edges... then he looked at the old man... To the chair, he leaned down... “Tell me Chamberlain... what did my Mother want here? How does The Duchess' Mother fit in?”

Chamberlain: "What did she want here? Fye, fye! What else wants one with their home but to leave in it too rah loo rah yay....Ah! But the old one who wanted to rape the land, raped her and took her far, far away. She cried aye, she cried long for wanting to return to Turas Lan, to Journey's End as the gaelic does mean! How now, pretty thing! Ye've found it!" He grinned a toothless grin at Kaori, "Now if you would but find my hods bodkin so happy would I be!."

Set In Her Way: " My mother is all o'er the walls, e'erywhere I look, I see her..I hear her..n' she is talkin to his mother. Old man..no more games ..."

Chamberlain: The Chamberlain smiled... the sensibility seemed to come and go... at will? maybe... but who knows after 30 plus years below ground... "Aye M'Lord... the Mother Harper lived with her friend... and her Norse blood ran strong in the Changling...Lassy, know yer here again... and so tis I..." he smirked and began his insane ranting...

"Did in Norway's darksome mine,
Dwarfs' swarthy hands thy metal twine'
Or, mortal moulded, come't thou here,
From England's love or France's fear?"

Set In Her Way: "Tis more than 'er friend Chamberlain. You told me so ye did n' I know that myself. Lady Davena n' Lady Murieall were related. Both had the blood of the tribes in them from Aberdeen.Didn't they? How else does m'mother look so much like his? The Norse blood was strong in my brother, too..Brycean. WE are here again . Now.." She reached over, and pulled up the old man. She lead him over toward something he had rambled over. His face began to distress as he saw the harp, as if his logic and insanity were warring for a place, "If you know you will tell us..now. This is my harp now..but ye knew the original players. Ye knew our mothers..."

Warden Hotaro: Oh, if she were to find his bodkin he'd not be quite so happy for what she'd end up doing with it! Such thoughts were kept to herself, however, and she merely dipped a curtsey to the old man. She would have paid more attention to what was going on, but she was again trying to figure out what she had found. Her eyes went faraway and she quietly murmured. "A key hole... This... Could this be a keyhole? But..." She bit her lip as she looked from the Duke, to the Duchess and the old man. "But if be a keyhole... What be the key?" She had seen something just like this before but it wasn't within minds reach! Unlike with the brooch, images and voices would not come to her. She was
stuck feeling quite daft. (d)

Chamberlain: "Aye they be... related Obar Dheathain... and harpers they were... royal to the bone... in a fine court they served... only me, tis know the truth..."[/b] he smirked and looked to Lady Kaori... then winking, he looked back to Lord and Lady...

"No! thy splendors nothing tell,
Foreign art or faery spell...
Moulded thou for monarch's use.
When the royal robe he tied
O'er a heart of wrath and pride;
Thence in triumph wert thou sat on high...
By the victor hand of Skye!"

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Ignia Ferroque: Adam's hand rested upon Bess' arm... "Ease up on the old man luv... Insane he may be, but locked away inside that mind is a past... our past... and his rantings seem awful familiar to me... something that my Mother would say to me to make me sleep... but she'd alwasy tell me tae ne'r repeat it..."

Set In Her Way: "M'mother would make me repeat them, repeat them until I did fall asleep. Pieces o' them are with me now, nay all the lessons put forth tae me. In this man is our past, n' this book is your past. M'mother wrote e'verythin down. She was the High harper here, sent by the Bruce, aye?" The old man nodded as she looked to Kaori, keyhole..but where was the Key? His hands wanted to touch the harp and she was loathed to let him do it. That was all of her history that she had, but it wasn't just hers. It was Adam's. She placed the spearhead into Adam's hands as she moved aside to let the old man see the markngs on the harp. He nodded to her questions, so she asked more, "Did Lord Maubrey want this place?" (d)

Warden Hotaro: Kaori was in a fury to find out what she was missing. She hated recollections and sense of déjà vu and things she could not put a finger on. She was a horribly curious creature, and that was what fueled her thirst for knowledge. She hated being put in a position where she hadn't time for proper research, so she could see things but not quite figure them out, not quite understand what she was missing. The old man for all of his winks and grins was mocking her, she felt. At long last the scholar felt drained, exhausted... She sunk to the floor against the pillar, quietly listening and trying to stop her head from pounding. (d)

Chamberlain: The old man cringed at the mention of Lord Maubrey... he seemed to find an inner place as to hide so the English lord could not find him... Peeking from under the vest that covered his face... "Kill me he will, if he knows I am in service again... keep me low for what I know..." then he ducked under the vest... "At yer harp I will try... harm it no, shall I..."

Walking to the harp, he looked at it with intense curiosity... "White hounds she loved... but the dove she cherished...” then he reached up and pulled the dove's head... the piece tilted... hinged it was... Then the old man smiled and looked to Bess... "Be careful... the map is th' key... under the dove knows more than me..."

Looking back to Adam... "Yer Da wants more than he can have..." then he covered his face again at the thought of Maubrey... From under the vest he spoke loud...

"The Church of God saw Lord fall !
On God's own altar streamed his blood,
While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood
The ruthless murderer e'en as now
With armed hand and scornful brow.
Up, all who love me ! blow on blow !
And lay the outlawed felons low !"

Ignia Ferroque: Adam said nothing... he just walked away thinking about what was said…