by Lori Wick
Joyce, Brice, Kristine, and Giles arrived together, and within the hour, Stephen had come with Louisa and Derek. Megan’s head felt as if it were spinning. She was in conversation with Kristine and Giles, whom she had just met, when Joyce grabbed her eldest son’s arm and pulled him from the group.
“You did it, Bracken. I can tell by the way Megan looks at you that you did it. You’re courting her.”
Bracken only smiled. “I want to laugh when I think of how confused I was by your words, but then I met Tryg.” Bracken went on to explain to his mother, and her eyes were shining with tears of happiness when he finished.
“It’s a miracle, Bracken. I have prayed so long and so hard.”
Having heard these words from his mother many times, Bracken simply hugged her, and Joyce was pleased that he did not question her. In truth, she had been very worried over their marriage.
Not many months past, Louisa and Derek had come for a visit. It was at that time that Derek shared with his aunt and mother that the Scriptures said a believer was not to marry an unbeliever. Joyce had felt as if the very ground had been snatched from under her. She saw herself sitting with Megan in her room at Hawkings Crest and telling her how excited she was that Megan was marrying Bracken. Joyce had been so sure at the time that this would be Bracken’s turnaround, and then Joyce learned that the union had not even been God’s will.
This news drove Joyce to her knees as nothing had ever done before. She prayed for days. Her heart was so burdened for her son and Megan that she could hardly function, but then the Holy Ghost moved in her heart. Joyce finally came from her knees to see that God’s hand had still been there. He had not lost control of the situation.
She began to pray for Bracken in a new way. She asked God to show her son how to treat his bride. She knew without the indwelling of God, his change would not be like her own, but she did believe with all of her heart that God could work in the heart of any man.
She also prayed for Megan. Joyce was certain of one thing—had Megan known that it was against God’s Word to marry an unbeliever, nothing whatsoever could have induced her to do so. Joyce prayed that God would show Megan how to respond to a sin committed in ignorance. She also prayed that as Bracken became more tender, Megan would be more receptive. From what she had seen in the first few minutes of her arrival at Hawkings Crest, God had answered her prayers with a resounding yes.
The only thing left to see to was choosing the correct time to tell Megan. Joyce felt that to leave someone in ignorance was a sin as well. Telling her would not change Megan and Bracken’s situation, but it might that of the next generation. Joyce felt this was of the utmost importance. She was still praying about the matter when the group headed en masse for the castle to refresh themselves and partake of the noon meal.
“Is something wrong, Megan?” Bracken asked his wife the next evening.
Megan stared at him. It was nearly inconceivable that she should not have married this man, but Megan wanted above all else to be a godly woman, so she had taken Joyce’s news as best as she was able. She could see, however, that it must be affecting her, or Bracken would not have noticed. Now, how would she tell him what was on her heart?
“I try to study in the Holy Scriptures every day,” she began. “And I love my quiet times spent with God.”
Bracken nodded. He had seen her reading often.
“But not everything I read or learn of is easy to take. Ofttimes I am convicted of sins that I was not aware of.” Megan hesitated, praying that she would not have to tell him that their union had been wrong. As it was, Bracken’s mind was elsewhere, and his question rescued her.
“If you want to do something, Megan, then do it. Your faith is your choice.”
Megan gently shook her head. “I must take the Scriptures in their entirety, Bracken, and not pick and choose what I wish or what suits me.”
Weighing her words, Bracken stared at her, his eyes narrowing.
“I thought God wanted us to be happy.”
“He does,” Megan said. “And happiness is mine—so are joy and peace—as soon as I obey.”
Bracken shook his head, and Megan said, “So you mean to tell me that your father only enforced half of his words?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if your father instructed you to go hunting in the forest and then to take your catch to the kitchens, it would be acceptable and obedient to hunt and then leave your game with the guard at the gate?”
“Of course not,” Bracken told her.
“So it is with God, Bracken. He wants all of His instructions obeyed. If we only obey half of His Word, we sin.”
This was new to Bracken, and again his eyes narrowed as he thought. Finally, he said, “But I am no child in need of a father’s training, and neither are you.”
Megan smiled at him with understanding, his point well taken, but still she said, “I will always be in need of my heavenly Father’s care and teaching. And I think if you will search your heart, you will see that if your own father were still alive, you would consult with him on many things. It is the same with me and God.”
Bracken’s face showed understanding for the first time. No one had ever compared God the Father to his earthly father, a man Bracken missed very much indeed. It made perfect sense.
But suddenly Bracken had more spiritual matters to think about than he was comfortable with. For years he had tried to tell himself that there was no difference between his mother’s faith in Christ and his own belief in God. However, when he was being very honest with himself he had to admit that the changes in his mother, the lack of fear and overriding sense of peace he witnessed each time they were together, had little to do with the passing of years and steps toward maturity.
Likewise, both Louisa and Derek had changed, and in his heart Bracken knew why. He had never known Megan before her conversion, but Bracken understood that the reason she gave of herself so freely to him was because of God’s work in her life. Still, Bracken was not convinced that he needed to make this step.
Wasn’t his keep in fine shape? Didn’t he treat his wife and servants with respect and caring? Didn’t he have the king’s approval and land and wealth to last him out and hand down to his seed? Why did he need to become religious? It still did not make sense. Rather than work it out, Bracken sought to change the subject.
In her wisdom, Megan let the matter drop, but she praised God that they had talked of spiritual matters as they never had before. She truly saw it as a step on the path to a new life in Christ for her spouse.
Vincent and Annora arrived the next day. Annora did not go so far as to embrace Megan, but this meeting was vastly different from the one before the wedding or the departure thereafter. Vincent did give his daughter a mighty hug, and as most of the guests were outside preparing for the tourney and the great hall was rather empty, Megan sat by the hearth with her parents for a visit.
Vincent opened the conversation with a painful subject.
“Has Marigold been back?”
“No,” Megan spoke with relief. “And after the incident with Arik, I do not expect to hear from her.”
Vincent was silent for a moment.
“What is it, Father?”
Annora spoke up. “Marigold was at Stone Lake just days ago. She was asking for money. When your father refused, she became enraged. When she learned we were coming here for your birthday, she began making threats against you. Your father told her to leave and not return. We came as soon as possible.”
Megan stared at them, not at all surprised. Marigold was certainly capable of all they had related and more.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Megan told her softly.
“’Tis not your doing, Megan. I can see now that your sister has played your father and me against one another for many years.”
“I did not want to send her away, but I cannot trust her at Stone Lake any longer.” Annora nodded in agreement with her husband.
There was somet
hing urgent in both their manners, and both looked a little shaken. From what they had said, Megan was still not certain that it was all that great a problem; it sounded like idle talk from an angry woman.
On the other hand, she did wonder if maybe she should inform Bracken. As though her thoughts were a plea, Bracken entered the hall and came across to them. He sat with them, and Megan quietly explained what Vincent had said.
Bracken’s eyes studied her before he said, “You are not afraid?”
“No, Bracken, in truth, I’m not. I know she is capable of nearly anything, but I am so protected here.”
Bracken nodded and reached for her hand. He then turned to Vincent and Annora.
“We thank you for coming, not only for this news, but for the celebration as well. I will inform my people of these threats, and special care will be taken during the tournament.”
“My men know as well,” Vincent put in quietly.
“Mother,” Megan said then, “you must wish to freshen up. May I show you upstairs?”
When the women had gone, Bracken also seemed ready to leave, but Vincent detained him.
“I do not wish to upset Megan on her birthday, but there is more.”
Bracken sat and regarded the older man with interest.
“I have never seen such a look of madness in a woman’s eyes.”
“Marigold?”
“Yes. She said that Megan was nothing but a cow and didn’t deserve you. She said she would be the Duchess of Briscoe and would see to it that Megan suffered well before she died.” Vincent leaned forward now, his face fearful. “I urge you Bracken, do not let Megan out of your sight.”
The words were still ringing in Bracken’s ears some 20 minutes later when he went looking for Megan. She was just coming from her mother’s room, and they met in the wide passageway.
“Is your mother settled?”
“Yes, but she kept looking at me oddly. In truth, Bracken, I feel sad for my parents that it has taken them so long to see Marigold’s true nature.”
Bracken only stared at her.
“Bracken, what is it?”
It was only right that she should know so that she could move with caution, but as with Vincent, Bracken had no desire to frighten her. He sighed very gently and reached to smooth her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Your father feels that Marigold is going mad and truly fears for you because of this.”
Megan stepped a little closer to her husband, and Bracken put his arms around her. Megan spoke with her cheek laid against his hard chest.
“You won’t let her hurt me, Bracken.” It was a statement.
“No, I won’t, but you need to walk with caution.”
“During the tourney?”
“Yes. I believe your father thinks she might try something.”
Megan tipped her head back. “I’ll make sure you or Arik are close by at all times.” Megan put her cheek back to Bracken’s broad chest, and a moment later felt him pulling off her wimple.
“Bracken!” she scolded and reached for his hand, but it was too late—her hair hung in a red mass down her back.
“I’ve told you many times,” Bracken said without apology as he held the wimple behind his back, “I want to see your hair.”
“But my mother is here,” Megan complained while attempting to smooth her unruly curls. “What will she say?”
“It matters not.” He was unperturbed. “Just remind her that she is at Hawkings Crest and can go without her wimple as well.”
Thirty-Five
MEGAN HAD NOT ATTENTED a tournament since she was a young girl, so the following days held a great many surprises for her. Competitions at the archery range and all swordplay would take place on the actual day of Megan’s birthday, and the following day would mark the wrestling matches and the javelin throw. The last day would end with a jousting competition.
The opening of the tourney started with a parade of the knights whose castles had answered the invitation. The men were in full pageantry dress as they paraded proudly onto the jousting field. The colors from six other keeps joined those of Hawkings Crest, Stone Lake, and White Hall, Joyce’s family home.
Megan was in the stands with all the other ladies. She watched proudly as Bracken, sitting atop Warrior and as the host of the games, rode proudly in front. Lyndon and Kendrick were just behind him. Megan’s pride grew as they circled the practice field that had been splendidly laid out for this occasion, and it tripled when she heard two older women talking behind her.
“My room is so comfortable and clean.”
“As is mine. So roomy.”
“Marcus and I had to share a room with four other couples at the last tourney we attended, and we did not get the bed.”
“Dreadful.”
“That isn’t the worst of it. The men in the room snored so loudly I hardly slept all night; Marcus was the worst.”
Megan heard both women laugh softly but she did not turn around. A swift shift of her eyes told her that her mother-in-law had heard as well. Joyce reached for Megan’s hand and squeezed gently. Megan had all she could do not to laugh.
By the final day of the tournament, the knights of Hawkings Crest had more than proven their worth to all present. They had won the archery competition hands down, and Arik had taken on all comers, sometimes two at a time, in the wrestling. There was only one knight, a huge, bald-headed man, who caused Megan worry.
His name was Sir Rodney of Helt, and he’d beaten Bracken when they wrestled and nearly out thrown him in the javelin. Today it was time for the joust, a sport where a man could be accidentally killed, and Megan knew some very real fear as the men paraded in once again.
She managed a smile as the knights from Hawkings Crest were once again the first in line, but her heart was beating with trepidation. She calmed some when she saw Bracken headed her way. Horse and rider were in full armor, and Warrior pranced with anticipation. Bracken reined him in with a sharp word, and within moments he stood before the grandstands as though made of stone.
Megan stood and Bracken held out his halberd. She pulled the scarf free that hung from her waist and sported the Hawkings Crest colors, and then tied it onto the end of his lance. His head dipped in her direction, and his eyes twinkled. Megan beamed at him and thought her heart would explode with love.
She sat back down and tried to calm herself but it was all moving so fast that Bracken and Sir Rodney faced one another before she felt ready. Oddly enough, it was her mother who noticed the strain on her face, and in a gentle voice was able to calm her daughter’s fears.
“Your father says he’s not seen many knights with Bracken’s strength or power. Fear not, Megan.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Megan told her and was sharply reminded of a conversation with Bracken just the night before
“I’ll pray for you during the joust, Bracken,” she had told him.
“I have my armor and a strong horse, Megan,” he reassured her. “There is no need to pray.”
“I will pray anyway,” she had said. “The Scriptures say, ‘There is no king saved by the multitude of an host; a mighty man is not delivered by much strength. A horse is a vain thing for safety; neither shall he deliver any by his great strength. Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy.’”
Bracken had looked at her in shock for many minutes before finally saying, “This is in the Holy Bible?”
“Yes, Bracken, in Psalm 33. I can show you.”
He shook his head. “There is no need. I believe you and beg your forgiveness for my arrogance. I would indeed desire your prayers.”
Calmness now covered Megan as she prayed for Bracken and each man participating. She knew that he might not come away whole, but the tourney was in God’s hands and Megan knew she would not find peace in any other place.
Megan paced the rug at the side of her bed and stopped every few seconds to stare in the direction of Bracken’s room. The light from
the torch on the wall cast shadows on the floor, but Megan took little notice.
You could touch me, had been Bracken’s words to her many days past, but Megan had not as yet made a move to do so. However, she was so proud of the way he’d beaten Sir Rodney of Helt that the desire to be with him was overwhelming her. Her only hesitation now was that he might already be asleep. A sudden thought came to mind, and Megan moved to light a candle. Once lit, she shielded the flame carefully with her hand and walked quietly into Bracken’s room.
As Megan hoped, he lay on his stomach. She also took note of the fact that his head was turned away from her. Because he was a light sleeper, she knew Bracken was aware of her presence, but he didn’t speak even when she set the candle down on the small table by the bed and climbed up to kneel beside him on the soft mattress.
Bracken’s heart was pounding in his chest as he felt Megan settle on the bed. He had known it would only be a matter of time before she came to him, but right now it felt like years since Bracken had begun his tender assault on her. The desire to roll over and sweep her into his arms was almost overpowering. He forced himself to exhale very slowly as her small hands reached to rub his bare back. He wanted desperately to respond in such away that Megan would not be fearful, but would instead know just how welcome she was.
After a moment he simply said, “That’s nice.”
“I thought you might be sore.” Megan’s voice was a little breathless, and for the world Bracken would not have told her that his vassal had given him a complete rubdown.
“It’s kind of you, Megan.”
They were silent for a moment, and then Megan spoke quietly, her hands having no real effect on his muscles but tremendous results on his heart.
“I was proud of you today, Bracken. You fought so well that I had to confess my pride that you belonged to me.” She heard him chuckle and smiled as she continued to rub.
“Does one area of your back hurt more than another?” she asked solicitously.