Merry Medieval Christmas

by Elizabeth Rose et al.

  He exited the room and stopped. Not sure which direction to go in, he turned left. Thankfully it led down a stairwell and on past the large room where he'd sat the night before to the kitchens where the maid Bessie was chopping vegetables up on a long wooden table.

  "Ah Mister Faolan, I see you found yourself about." The maid motioned for him to sit. "I'll get ye some strong tea for that head of yours and some proper food in your belly. You'll be good as new, just wait and see."

  He eyed a piece of meat on a hook and his stomach revolted. "Perhaps just the tea. Where is everyone?" He asked grateful the tea was placed before him in short order.

  The maid shook her head and let out a hefty sigh. "Mister Ian remains abed. He took his breakfast already then went back to sleep. Miss Catriona is at the market helping her cousin Osla with her bairns. Osla sells beautiful combs and trinkets in the village and is quite busy with it too."

  "When will she return?"

  "Och, it depends. If they sell out quickly she will return shortly. Sometimes however, she goes to their house to help fix supper. Especially now that Mistress Osla is so heavy with child."

  It surprised him when Bessie slid a plate replete with eggs and sausage. The meal was flavorful and as the maid had predicted, he did indeed feel much better once he finished.

  Unsure what to do with the morning, he decided to walk to town and see about his steed. Ian had said to bring it there to the house. Of course the man had also apologized for his sister's rashness and offered to help him fake his death to get away from the situation. The idea had merit, but in his drunken state, he'd insisted on keeping his word. Now he wanted to knock his head into a wall for not taking Ian Grant's offer. He could not marry Catriona, for he planned to find the well, make the wish and return to Skye before the weather became too cold. He didn't have much time.

  "How far is town?" he asked Bessie.

  The maid bit her lip and seemed to ponder her reply. "You are leaving then? Not honoring your word?"

  "I plan to get my steed and bring him here. I will stand by my word Bessie, but I must ensure to speak to Catriona. I am sure she will agree that last night was a mistake and together we will find a way out of this predicament."

  "The lass will be married off. Mister Ian will see to it. I hope you will consider this well. You see she is not as she seems."

  Although he shouldn't be intrigued he was. "What do you mean?"

  Bessie rubbed the back of her head. "She is fiery and quite a handful, that is true. But she is caring and giving. Spends an entire day helping her cousin at the market refusing any kind of payment. When anyone in the village is in need, ill or injured, she is the first one to assist. Always has a kind word for everyone." The maid frowned. "Well except for Fergus McGivney, who can't keep his hands to himself when around a woman."

  "Why are you telling me this? I am a stranger, came very far to find the wishing well."

  "Which means you already gave your heart away then?" Bessie sighed and slumped over her work. "Tis a shame."

  He walked to the village, to find the stables. The stable hand refused payment congratulating him on his upcoming nuptials. When he went to see about purchasing some dried meats at a stand in the center of the village, once again the proprietor refused payment and echoed the well wishes of the stable hand. It was becoming quite vexing the way the people accepted him, a total stranger.

  He spotted Catriona standing next to a stand. Her auburn tresses shown from the sunlight as she lifted them, coiled them around her head and then plucked some sort of contraption into the twist. Three women gathered around her and she turned in a circle so they could admire whatever it was she'd tucked into her tresses. Then with a flip of her wrist, she pulled the item out and the fiery waves flowed like a waterfall past her shoulders to the center of her waist.

  The women all purchased items and she helped them lift their hair into buns and such while laughing and speaking in light tones.

  At a tap on his shoulder Faolan turned to find a burly man. "I'm Fergus McGivney, we met last night," he explained and held out a beefy hand. "Congratulations to ye. I can see how enamored ye are by the way ye watch her from afar. Breaks my heart to know the fair Catriona will leave us."

  Faolan once again looked toward the stand. Catriona held up a babe and twirled around making the child burst into fits of laughter. Her skirts swirled around her legs, and the auburn tresses flew in the wind like silken cloth. It was understandable that the villagers would miss such a delightful sight. "Aye well...thank ye for the wishes."

  He took a hold of the horse's reins and guided the animal toward the forest. He'd spend the remaining day searching for the well, and then he'd head back to the Grant's home and speak to Catriona upon her return. Once that was settled, he'd find the well and make his wish so that he could return to Skye and claim his true love.

  Not sure in which direction to head, he meandered through the woods following a stream. The horse seemed content with the slow pace while at the same time seeming to know in which direction to head. Faolan wasn't usually keen on allowing an animal to lead the way, but without a solid idea of where to go, he figured if nothing else he'd have something to do for the day and hopefully make more inquiries in the village that night. He refused to return without finding the well. He had to find it.

  The horse's whiny got his attention. The animal stopped moving and began to nibble grasses at the foot of a huge tree. When a trickle of apprehension traveled up his spine, Faolan scanned the area. It struck him as odd how quiet the forest had become. No bird chirps or wind rustling through leaves, only the soft gurgling of water from the stream behind him.

  Movement caught his attention. A huge silver wolf stood just beyond a clearing, its head cocked to the side as it studied him. The luminescent eyes took him and his steed in for a long moment. Why wasn't his horse responding? Faolan dismounted and moved with slow but steady steps toward the majestic beast. The animal was not a stranger to him. He'd seen the same wolf before in Skye. It was impossible that it had traveled so far.

  His mother named him Faolan, which meant wolf, stating that she'd dreamed of wolves the entire time she carried him. In her opinion, the wolf was to be Faolan's guardian. He'd always considered it more of a woman's fancy, but after seeing this wolf several times during his life he began to believe it was true.

  The wolf didn't move, seeming unfazed by Faolan coming closer to it. When he was a few feet from it, Faolan stopped. "You know where the well is don't you? Show me."

  The animal turned to look over his shoulder, but didn't move. Unsure what to do next, Faolan moved closer to the beast but made no move to touch it. Beyond the wolf there was a second small clearing. In the center of it stood the object he sought.

  The well.

  It could be that in that moment he was so taken that he'd found what he sought or perhaps it had all been a figment of his imagination, but when he looked back to the wolf, it was gone. The beast must have vanished into the forest as quickly as it had appeared

  Faolan remained rooted to the spot and studied the unimpressive well. Made of white stones, most of them fallen to the wayside, it was a crumbling ruin. Although he wasn't sure if it still gave water or not, there was a bucket hanging from a rope. Once he assured himself the horse was where he'd left it, Faolan neared the well and hesitated. He looked around to ensure no one was about. Still uneasy with the situation and the silence of the spot, he drew his sword and held it close as he approached the well.

  Looking down into the darkness, he had to admit he was not too impressed with the elusive wishing well. Yet he'd no doubts as to what he was seeing. What to do now he wondered? He'd never been told how exactly one went about making a wish. So he reached for the bucket, held the rope and lowered it into the depths until hearing it hit water. Once the bucket was filled, he brought it up slowly.

  The water was refreshing; Faolan drank his fill then put the bucket aside. He sighed and once again peered into the well. "My w
ish is to be with my one true love. Bring us together, let nothing stand in the way." He closed his eyes to picture his wish.

  Bright fiery hair flowed into his mind, the waves falling over him as bright mischievous green eyes met his. His hands slid down satin soft skin and took her waist bringing her to join with him.

  Faolan smiled, then stumbled backwards, tripped over one of the stones and landed on his bum. His eyes flew open, a loud groan escaped. "No." Why did he choose then to bring the image of Catriona to mind and not his Moira? Faolan rushed back to the well and gripped the well wall.

  He felt dizzy and lost his balance again. Suddenly he noticed it had became noisy, loud chirping of birds in the trees, the sounds of wind blowing through the leaves. Sunlight trickled through and warmed his back as a large bird of prey landed on a branch.

  Faolan looked down to find he was gripping not a stone wall, but the branch of a fallen tree. Startled, he jumped back and turned in a full circle.

  The well was gone.

  On the way back to the Grant’s home, it occurred to Faolan he'd not thought of Moira until after he made his wish. Each time he tried to picture her in his mind he would instead see the feisty Catriona. Truly he'd been too drunk the night before and it affected everything. He'd not found the well, but had instead fallen asleep only to wake after getting up from the ground. It was the only explanation he could think of. Wells didn't just vanish into thin air. One didn't just spot a wolf from Skye so far away.

  He felt better at realizing it had all been a dream; a bout from too much ale. Not at all satisfied, as he had yet to find the well. He'd not give up and return to Skye until truly finding the well and making his wish.

  Ian and Catriona's large home came into view, in front of it a few cattle grazed lazily. The stables were modest, but well built and next to them in large pens hogs and goats seemed content in the warm sun. He spotted Bessie making her way from what looked to be a chicken coop toward the back of the house. He stirred his horse forward and then dismounted. "Bessie how fare ye this day?"

  The woman smiled brightly. "Good. You look to be feeling better."

  "Aye I am." He released the horse's reins and moved to hold the door open for her. "Bessie, what do you know about the wishing well?"

  The woman waved him away and shook her head. "Go see about your horse then come into the kitchen. I will tell you the stories I've heard."

  The kitchen was well sized and quite tidy, besides the large wooden table and benches, there was a wide trestle table along the far wall, a hearth for cooking and large pots and other cooking utensils hanging from hooks attached to the wall above it.

  Faolan sat at the large rustic table with a simple bowl of soup and cup of tea before him. Bessie bustled to and fro stirring a large pot and then settling with her own cup of tea. Her complexion was rosy from all the activity and he realized the woman was as fair of face as she was hardworking. She leaned forward as if sharing a secret.

  "Tis said the well is deep in the forest. Made hundreds of years ago by men from the north come here to pillage and plunder, then settling for a while. Later tis said two lovers, one Scot and one Norse, hid in the well to keep from being caught and eventually drowned when a rainstorm came. Unable to gain their own happiness, they grant lovers their wishes to be together. My own grandmother told me she'd seen it once and wished upon it. It never appears in the same place therefore someone who's seen it cannot take another and find it. It is said it will only appear for those that have a pure heart and a true need to find their life partner."

  His skin prickled with understanding, but he remained quiet.

  Bessie sighed. "My grandmother said she wished upon it. She was very much in love with the village smithy you see."

  "Your grandfather?"

  "Oh no. My grandfather was a carpenter." Bessie got up and brought the kettle back to refill their cups. "The well does not bring you who you ask for, not unless it's meant to be. When you wish for your one true love, that is exactly who you will find."

  "Has anyone seen the well recently?" Faolan asked watching Bessie closely. Her eyes widened and she looked away not meeting his gaze. "No. Not that I heard of anyway." She got up and went to a large wooden bowl from where she lifted a large ball of dough. "I better get the bread started. The midday meal will be served soon. That small meal will not hold ye for the rest of the day."

  After finishing his soup and tea, Faolan walked back outside, he felt too antsy to remain indoors. As he turned toward the road, he spotted Catriona making her way toward the house. On her arm a basket. She seemed deep in thought, not noticing him. The opportunity to study the woman without her being aware allowed him to look his fill.

  She'd put her hair up to the top of her head, from the loose bun tendrils escaped framing her face.

  She looked up to the sky as a flock of birds flew overhead and a smile caressed her already beautiful face. He inhaled and let out the breath slowly.

  Catching himself, Faolan cursed and kicked at a stone. "Enough of this foolishness. I must speak to my betrothed. This farce has to end." He strolled with purpose towards Catriona who now noticed and watched him with lifted eyebrows and an air of challenge.

  Chapter Four

  Catriona could not take her mind away from her talk with Osla.

  "You were foolish to do such a thing, to trap this man using an oath of betrothal which is not to be taken lightly Catriona," Her cousin had scolded. "Tis hard enough for poor Ian to find you a husband, now after this Wolf of Skye as you call him leaves, it will be harder still."

  "No matter," Catriona had insisted, "I'll have Ian build me a cottage here in the village and I will live alone. I'll become a healer and take a lover."

  Her cousin had erupted into giggles until tears flowed from her eyes. "You say such things. I so love you Catriona, but we both know Ian will never allow it. Nor do I think any man in the village is brave enough to earn his wrath."

  She'd huffed in exasperation. "I am tired of this talk of marriage. Perhaps I will force Faolan Mackinnon to marry me after all. Have it done and over with. We'll move to Skye and make each other miserable for eternity."

  Once again her cousin had laughed but then scolded her. "Talk to him, there may be a reason for all of this. In my opinion, there is not such thing as coincidence."

  Now a she studied a flock of birds that flew overhead, she pondered how to approach her supposed betrothed and what exactly to do, send him away or force him to stay.

  Her heart skipped at seeing him walk toward her now.

  Whatever had angered the Wolf had nothing to do with her. If he were to act like most men and take out his aggravations on the first woman nearby, he was about to learn a valuable lesson.

  "Miss Grant." His greeting was curt, the deep voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I trust your foray into the village went well."

  She set her shoulders straight, and held her head just a bit higher. "Quite well."

  He offered his arm, which surprised her and she slipped her hand into the crook of it. It was obvious he had planned to speak to her and if she were to guess, it would be about the betrothal. It was hard to keep from smiling at the predicament she'd put the man in.

  "We must speak about our betrothal," he stated and looked to her. His amber eyes lightened on her lips and she swallowed. "Err...I am sure you do not wish to marry me, a total stranger."

  "In that you are correct. However it is not just you being a total stranger, I do not wish to marry. I have no desire to marry anyone." Catriona shrugged and looked toward the home she didn't wish to leave. Her brother and she had a good life; there were many fond memories in the large structure and surroundings. "But I must. My brother must also. He cannot bring a wife home and have me about. I understand that." She stopped walking and waited for him to look at her. "What about you Mr. Mackinnon? Do you wish to marry?"

  "Aye one day."

  "But not to me." Her statement seemed to hang in the air; neither of them movi
ng nor able to think of something to say that would force the conversation forward.

  Faolan looked to the ground seeming to fight for something to say. Catriona preferred not to make things easier for him so she crossed her arms and looked to the sky, then to the trees and lastly to him. He remained deep in thought.

  "I can't say that," he finally acquiesced shocking her. "If I were to be honest. I find you very enticing."

  It was her turn to be stunned into silence, not sure what was best to do next. Catriona prided herself in always having the upper hand, never allowing someone to know her true feelings. The only man she trusted without question was Ian, and at the moment, her brother was probably out hunting for a wife, celebrating that he'd gotten rid of her. The lout, she thought and couldn't help but smile.

  "Well then Faolan Mackinnon, tis a good thing as we are to marry then." She turned on her heel and walked faster toward the house unable to keep from wondering what would happen next. Of course she should let him go, tell him she'd not go through with the marriage. But each time she went over the words of how to let him out of the promise to marry her, her chest constricted and her mouth dried up.

  Just that afternoon the strangest thing happened to her. One minute she was at the trinket stand with Osla and the next, she saw the well. It was as if she'd gone into the forest and stood in the same exact spot again. For a few instances, her spirit felt light and warmth had seeped into every bone. Just a quickly she was back, Osla was peering at her with a questioning expression. It was a sign, she was certain.

  "Where is Ian?" Faolan caught up with her and took the basket. "I must speak to him."