The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

  Julie peered into the small polished metal hand mirror. “Did the gown muss my hair?"

  Gwyneth shook her head. “Nay, my lady.” She reached out and tucked a stray lock behind Julie's ear. “It really is the most remarkable color and so thick and curly. I am sure my lord finds it pleasing."

  A fishing expedition. Well, Julie wasn't biting. “I wouldn't know,” she replied, sliding her feet into a pair of satin slippers.

  "Oh, my lady, surely he said..."

  "That's enough, Gwyneth. Such things are between my husband and me."

  The little lady-in-waiting bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes. “Aye, Lady Julianne. I am sorry. My tongue runs like a hound after a deer."

  Seeing the girl's genuine regret for prying into her lady's affairs Julie put an arm around her. “It's all right, Gwyneth. I'm not angry with you. It's just some things between a man and woman are private, not to be discussed with others."

  Like that kiss, just before they'd traveled back here. The shape of his mouth, the warmth of his lips still lingered in her memory. At the time, she'd thought Nick had taken advantage of the romantic setting. Instead, it had been Nicholas acting like the men of his time, taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. Well, it wouldn't happen again. He'd brought her here to help guard his son, not as his heart's choice. But Edward had not yet been born at this time, so what else might he have in mind?

  She shelved her curiosity and caught Gwyneth staring at her wide-eyed. “Are you feeling unwell, my lady? You had such a strange expression on your face."

  "No, dear, I'm not ill. I think it's time we went down to dinner, don't you? It wouldn't be polite to be late.” It was also time to have a talk with Nicholas. One with better explanations.

  As they walked across the great hall, Julie spied the object of her thoughts sitting at the lord's table, chatting with a handsome, dark-haired knight. Gwyneth took a seat at one of the lower tables next to a teenage boy, leaving Julie to face the stares of the castle folk alone. Just then, Nicholas looked up and beckoned. As she stepped up on the dais, the other man finished saying something.

  Nicholas nodded. “Then the tenants are content with their assigned days for the spring planting?"

  "Aye, my lord. Of course a few are never happy, but...” Spying Julie, he broke off. Nicholas rose and extended his hand.

  She took it, trying to ignore how her stomach dipped and her breathing sped up when their fingers met. Why oh why must she feel this way about a man long dead?

  "Ah, Julianne, you look wondrously refreshed and as beautiful as ever.” He turned to his companion. “Isn't she radiant, Sir Edgar?"

  The other knight smiled as he rose and bowed to her. “She is indeed. Good day, my lady.” He turned back to Nicholas. “After dinner, I am riding out to visit some of the tenant farmers. Would you care to accompany me, my lord?"

  "Aye, I feel the need for some fresh air to clear my head.” He grinned at Edgar who with the usual male perception of any sexual inference, grinned back, then turned and began conversing with the man on his other side.

  Nicholas pulled out the chair next to his and seated Julie beside him. Servants hurried around, making sure everyone had plates, spoons and drinking cups. Others brought heaping platters of meat swimming in their own juices. They shared a trencher which Nicholas piled high, then began pulling the meat apart with his fingers.

  "I wish I had one of your forks,” he murmured.

  "So do I. Did you wash your hands?"

  Nicholas grinned. “Of course."

  "It's still unsanitary."

  "What is that—unsanitary?"

  "It mean unhealthy. Germs,” she mumbled around a bit of bread and meat.

  "Germs?"

  "Oh, never mind.” Explaining germs wasn't something she wanted to start.

  The food tasted good. She'd insisted they view Nicholas's proof before breakfast and the sight of an authentic thirteenth century castle at work had stolen her appetite. Then she'd escaped reality into the oblivion of sleep...and dreams.

  A golden-eyed knight on a huge black charger pursued her. Although she ran as fast as she could, he caught her, swept her up into his arms and placed her before him across his thighs. She struggled to free herself, but his muscular arm just clasped her closer to his hard chain mail. Then she saw the amulet clutched in his other hand and reached for it. Pull as she might, he would not let it go. When they crossed a shallow river, the knight yanked his arm from her grasp and flung the amulet into the water. As his grip on her relaxed, she tore free, her impetus flinging her off the horse. With a splash, she hit the water and sank. Suddenly, the river became swift and deep. Although she tried to kick, her long, sodden dress kept pulling her down, and the amulet remained just beyond her grasp... She'd awakened thrashing frantically, the linen bed sheet wound around her body.

  Nicholas sat watching her wolf down what must seem to him an unladylike amount of food. After a minute, he murmured, “Germs?"

  She scowled. “Another time. I'm eating."

  He continued to stare at her with those molten lava eyes. Then he leaned very close and whispered, “Julie, you must remember we have just wed and are in love. Some of the looks you give me are not those of a loving bride."

  Julie was saved from replying by the arrival of a formidable looking woman. She swept across the keep like a sailing ship before a brisk wind. Both Nicholas and Edgar bounded up.

  "Your lordship, my lady.” She dropped a deep curtsey to Nicholas, then a lesser one to Julie, who wondered who this was.

  Nicholas saved her embarrassment by saying, “Julianne, you will want to confer with my aunt, Lady Beatrix, about the running of the household. I believe you met yesterday, but all was such confusion...” Keys clanked at Lady Beatrix's ample waist, proclaiming this woman the chatelaine of the keep, at least for the moment.

  "Here are your keys, Lady Julianne.” The older woman reached down to unfasten them from her girdle.

  Panic squeezed Julie's chest. “Oh, please, Lady Beatrix, you keep them for now.” It was one thing to research medieval households, quite another to actually run one. Also, she would need to win Lady Beatrix's friendship and trust. “I must first learn from you, ma'am."

  The older woman's stern expression softened. She appeared flattered that the new lady of the castle wished to be instructed by her. Julie gave a sigh of relief at finding the right way to handle the situation. She'd need this large and commanding creature on her side in the future.

  "When do you wish to begin, my lady?” Lady Beatrix seemed anxious to demonstrate her housekeeping skills as soon as possible.

  "Why not after dinner? We'll have the whole afternoon.” If Julie had to stay here for a while, keeping occupied would help pass the time. She still needed to get Nicholas alone and demand he find a way to send her back to her own century. But he was occupied with Sir Edgar right now and there were too many people around to speak freely. They all thought her Lady Julianne, Nicholas's wife and a young and inexperienced girl, so for a short time she'd humor Nicholas and play her part. But not forever. She wanted to go home, the sooner the better.

  She bit back the surge of anger that shook her when she thought of Nicholas's trickery. How could he have brought her back to his time without asking first? But anger was pointless now. She needed to focus on being Julianne and hope for a swift resolution of Nicholas's problems. Then hopefully, he would keep his promise and return her to the twenty-first century.

  Lady Beatrix nodded, a smile tipping up the corners of her wide mouth. “Very good, my lady.” After motioning to the serving women to bring in the next course, she stepped up on the dais and took the empty seat next to Julie.

  Julie finished her bread and meat. There were a few rather withered potatoes and carrots, but she skipped those. Too early for fresh vegetables, she supposed. After a long winter, most of the stores put away last fall were depleted.

  Julie took a few sips of wine and thought some more about Nicholas's proble
ms. He had mentioned his wife had died in the near future and Julie had every intention of vacating Julianne's body before that happened. But how? Lily seemed the key. She had given them the amulets. So the next step would be to talk to Lily. But where was she? Nicholas might know. Right now, he and Sir Edgar were in a deep discussion about the planting of new crops. She'd tackle him later, when they were alone.

  The meal over, Julie went off with Lady Beatrix, and Nicholas decided that instead of visiting his tenants, he and Sir Edgar needed to review the demesne's accounts. His memory was good, but much had happened during the last year including his wife's death and his fantastic leap into the future.

  He and Sir Edgar walked to the small room where he kept his records. Many sheets of parchment were stacked in neat piles on a sturdy oak table. How his descendant, Nick, could function with his messy office, Nicholas had no idea.

  He wondered how much he should tell Julie about his enemy, Miles Norville. Just enough to win her cooperation, he decided. She had to be on her guard, yet act naturally, as if she were really his wife. That Julie had liked Stephan Norville bothered him, but he had grown up with Miles and knew he could also be charming if he wished, just like his descendant. Nicholas did not want her to be deceived and drop her guard.

  After an hour of conferring over the household accounts with his steward, Nicholas leaned back in his chair and rotated his aching shoulders. How he hated paperwork.

  Then Sir Edgar surprised him. “If I am not presuming too much, my lord, why did you send Eldred after Sir Miles?"

  Nicholas leaned his elbows on the table, steepled his hands and stared at Sir Edgar over them. “You noticed, did you?"

  Edgar grinned. “Very little escapes my attention, my lord."

  That was good, but with a possible war between him and Miles a distinct possibility, he needed to free up Edgar from his duties as steward to work with the castle's small army of knights and men-at-arms. At Oxford, the masters now taught young men how to manage estates. They learned letter-writing, legal procedures, preparation of documents and accounting. Tomorrow, he would send a letter to the masters at Oxford asking them to send him a good student to help with the accounts.

  Then an uneasy thought struck him. All this was different from what he had done the last time through this year. But surely having someone other than himself work on his accounts couldn't change history, could it? He didn't see how.

  Convinced all was well, Nicholas set out to tour his estate with Sir Edgar.

  Julie stood in the middle of the building which housed the kitchen and listened to a detailed explanation of a chatelaine's duties by Lady Beatrix. A castle, it seemed, ran on its stomach. The amount of food necessary to feed the household appeared endless.

  She stared at the huge iron cauldrons suspended from a hook and chain device which could be lowered or raised to hasten or slow cooking. They were filled with something that bubbled like a witch's brew. Although it was early May, the heat in the room was stultifying. The scent, however, was mouthwatering.

  Lady Beatrix gestured at the pot. “Leftover meat from dinner becomes stew for supper. “Very thrifty."

  The middle-aged male cook stomped around making sure all his helpers kept busy at their tasks. One little maid, who looked no older than ten, wept as she chopped a huge mound of onions, presumably to flavor the stew. Two other children were slicing more of the withered potatoes and a few wrinkled carrots, which hopefully would be edible when disguised in the thick gravy.

  "Have fresh vegetables been planted?” Julie inquired, hoping they had.

  "Why certainly, my lady. As soon as the danger of frost is past, we sow the seeds.” Lady Beatrix appeared surprised she should ask such a basic question.

  Julie nodded, trying to look as if she'd known that.

  Next they visited the bake house where the baker was engaged in the unending task of kneading dough. Julie learned the castle folk consumed vast quantities of bread at all three meals each day, so the ovens worked unceasingly, turning out loaves from before dawn till after sunset. No wonder Nicholas and Edgar were discussing the planting of wheat at dinner.

  "You were instructed by your dear mama, God rest her soul, in the running of a castle?” Lady Beatrix's angled dark eyebrows raised, giving her eyes the look of two gabled windows.

  Julie would have laughed if the question hadn't stumped her. Her mama?

  Apparently, Julianne's mother was dead and her father, if alive, had not attended the wedding. At least she hadn't seen anyone who looked like he might be the bride's father. Maybe he was dead or too unwell to travel. Why hadn't Nicholas filled her in on the background of the woman she was supposed to be? She'd ask him about it tonight.

  "The woman who managed the household gave no thought to my education.” That sounded plausible. Or was she digging holes again? Just where was Nicholas anyway? She hadn't seen him since dinner. She supposed he might be inspecting the estate with Sir Edgar. Or maybe he'd gone to confer with his bailiff.

  She tuned in Lady Beatrix again and nodded agreeably as that venerable personage conducted her to the buttery, pantry, and eventually to the stables to visit her horse. Oh, Lord!

  "Before the wedding you mentioned how much you liked your mare. What is her name?” Lady Beatrix's aim today seemed to be asking unanswerable questions.

  "Ah, I can't remember. It's right on the tip of my tongue,” Julie said, stroking the mare's silky brown neck. Talk about stupid. The horse bailed her out with a soft whinny and a head bob. If only she an apple or something to give it.

  "Well, she seems fond of you,” Lady Beatrix commented, turning toward the stable door. “Watch where you step."

  She certainly would. This whole world smelled bad. Well, not the kitchen, but the people in it all needed a bath. As did most of the others who brushed past her in the course of the afternoon. She herself would kill for a good shower. And a nice cold drink. She did not have the average Englishman's aversion to ice. Iced tea was a favorite with her. Not one she could indulge here, though. Tea had not yet arrived from the Orient.

  With a sigh, she interrupted the tumultuous flood of information flowing from Lady Beatrix's mouth and pleaded a headache.

  "But I wished to show you the solar and discuss the weaving of some new tapestries."

  Oh, no! “Please, Lady Beatrix, could we do that tomorrow. I'm sure you're very capable of running this whole place without me. For now,” she added, at the lady's astonished stare. “If I could just work into it gradually."

  The older woman smiled kindly. “I am sure the last few days have been filled with hectic events. You will need a period to adjust."

  "Yes, I will.” That was for sure.

  "I do not wish to criticize, but you tend to speak most strangely at times, running your words together. A sign of exhaustion, I think."

  "Undoubtedly,” Julie agreed, feeling a real headache brewing. She needed Nicholas to run interference for her. Although she was still angry with him for bringing her here without asking, having his tall, broad-shouldered presence at her side in public, his strong arm around her shoulders was a definite comfort. Not that she'd ever tell him.

  She left Lady Beatrix to manage the rest of the day's tasks and climbed the spiral stairs to the tower chamber she had shared with Nicholas last night.

  She entered, expecting the room to be vacant. To her surprise, the sound of soft weeping greeted her.

  "Who's here?” she called, but the lengthening shadows concealed the weeper. She shut the door and advanced into the room, glancing from side to side.

  A small sob rose from behind the high bedstead. “It is I, Lady Julianne. Gwyneth."

  "Why, Gwyneth, whatever is the matter?” Julie knelt beside the young lady-in-waiting who had buried her face in the feathered mattress of the massive bed.

  "Oh, my lady, I do not wish to trouble you with my problems,” the girl said, with a soft hiccup.

  Julie looked around for a handkerchief, but found only a soft li
nen towel someone had left lying on the bed. “Here, my dear, dry your tears and tell me about it. I'm a good listener."

  "It is William.” Gwyneth stopped, as if Julie would know who she meant.

  "And who is William?” She probably should know, but she couldn't think.

  Gwyneth gave her a strange look. “Why, Lord Nicholas's squire. I thought you knew him. I ate dinner with William today."

  Oh, that William. “Of course, I know him,” she lied, “but there could be more than one William, now couldn't there?"

  Gwyneth, eyes huge, nodded.

  "Is William your, ah, boyfriend?” That wasn't the right term, but Julie's word-selection center felt like a pressure cooker about to explode from too much steam.

  "He is my suitor. We are in love,” Gwyneth explained, a rather foolish expression on her face. “We want to be married."

  "Aren't you a bit young?” Julie was horrified. This child wanted to marry another child? Surely, William couldn't be much older than Gwyneth.

  "I'm seventeen and he's eighteen. We are grown,” the girl declared proudly.

  "I see.” Yes, she saw, but what advice to offer? If she suggested they wait until they were older, they might defy her by running off and ruining their lives. As Nicholas's squire, William had many duties, but taking care of a wife wasn't one of them, she suspected.

  The correct response for the situation escaped her. “I will speak to my husband about this,” she said after a moment of thought.

  "Oh, no!” Gwyneth cried. “He might send William away. Or me, my lady,” she added, looking woebegone. Julie, wanting to comfort her, gathered the girl into her arms for a quick hug. The girl's slight frame shook with suppressed sobs.

  "I'm sure Lord Nicholas wouldn't do that. Now, dry your tears and go about your, uh, tasks.” Julie patted Gwyneth's face once again with the towel, then rose to her feet.

  "My task or duty is to serve you,” Gwyneth protested, as Julie escorted her to the door. The girl stopped there, refusing to budge while she pleaded her case. “I will be scolded and perhaps punished if I do not attend to your needs.” Panic blossomed in her eyes.