by Неизвестный
A few minutes later, a seamstress came bustling into the room, measuring tape in hand, accompanied by a servant carrying swatches of various fabrics and a tablet and pencil.
"Now stand tall and straight." The seamstress looked up at her. "And my, you are tall, aren’t you?" She unrolled the tape and measured while the servant wrote down the figures. Finished measuring within minutes, the seamstress set the tape aside and reached for the swatches. "What is your favorite color, madam?"
"Blue," she said without hesitation, "all shades except very dark."
"Ah, I think we can satisfy you there." She flipped through the samples that were attached to a wooden roll. "How about this, madam?" She held up a silk swatch in the loveliest shade of light blue, with a hint of lavender.
Briana gasped. The only dresses she owned were of cotton and wool. "It’s beautiful, but I fear ‘tis very expensive." Lovingly, she smoothed her hand over the fabric, reveling in its luster, its rich feel.
"Don’t worry about the money, madam. The queen instructed me to fit you out with a suitable wardrobe, and that’s what I’m doing. Now, let’s see...." She flipped through the samples, stopping when she came to a print of rose-colored flowers and deep green vines on white cotton. "Do you like this print?"
"Ooh, yes!"
"Very well. We can finish a dress of this material by this evening--"
"So much work for you!" Dismayed, Briana was at a loss for words.
"Madam, I do have assistants. Now let’s see about a few other swatches." After much discussion and perusing other samples, Briana had chosen several gowns with the assurance that they would be finished within a few days.
The seamstress left, and Briana sat down on an upholstered chair, overwhelmed by her good fortune. For the first time since her arrival, she looked around the room, taking in all its furnishings, for last night she’d been too tired and the chamber lit only by dim candlelight for her to notice much. The chair she sat on was done in a pattern of peach-colored roses on a lavender background, a pattern that matched the bedspread and the silk draperies. A lavender rug bedecked the floor, and lavender and peach accessories added pleasant touches to the chamber.
She changed her position and looked out the window at the rolling countryside that extended for miles. How beautiful this country is, she mused, yet not too different from her own, for off in the distance rose wooded hills. Fluffy white clouds drifted by, and tree branches swayed in a light breeze. As much as she enjoyed her stay here, she knew this hiatus couldn’t last forever, and she and Weylyn must return to their own country and whatever fate awaited them there.
Weylyn. She realized now how much she cared for him, how much she had always loved him. A longing for him possessed her, a desperate need to have him by her side for the rest of their lives, and aye, for all their lives to come. How had she lived without him all these years, and how could she face the rest of her life without him, day and night?
Snatched back to the moment, she considered that he might be waiting for her, and she got up to leave, taking one more look around this lovely bedchamber, too well aware she could never have such a pretty room of her own--not in her other life in Maith Fearann. Her thoughts veered back to Weylyn, and she opened the door, wanting only to see him again, hear his dear voice, feel his arms around her.
He was waiting for her on a marble bench that lined a wall. He stood as she approached and smiled that wonderful smile she would never forget. "New wardrobe?"
"Yes, but I feel guilty when I have no silver to pay the queen."
"I feel the same, but it’s as I said, I think it gives her pleasure to do these things for us."
Holding hands, they traversed the long hallway, then down the stairs. "Aye, I believe you are right. In any case, you will see me in a new dress tonight." She glanced his way as they reached the bottom step. "And you?"
"New wardrobe for me, too." He stopped to ask a passing servant directions to the door that led outside. Otherworld! Briana thought, this palace goes on forever. They followed the directions, passing more servants, but they saw neither the queen nor any palace officials, and Briana assumed they were conducting palace business, whatever that business might be. The hallway stretched long and wide, with sofas placed at various locations in the center, and long tables laden with vases of flowers. At the end of the hall, just before they reached the door that led outside, portraits adorned the walls, of men and women, past rulers, Briana assumed.
When they came to a wide oaken door with gold handles, a liveried servant opened it for them. Thanking him, they stepped out to a glorious, sunny day, neither hot nor cold, with only a light breeze. Past tall, stately trees similar to oaks in her country, they continued down a graveled path until they came to the most luscious garden she’d ever beheld--some of the flowers she recognized, some not. But more than flowers or trees or palace, she reveled in Weylyn’s nearness, everything about him, from his long hair rippling in the breeze, to his face with its pleasant, even features, and on down the length of his tall physique. He squeezed her fingers, and heat kindled between them, an exciting awareness of each other, coupled with the pleasure/pain of wanting more than holding hands, ah, so much more. Yet at the same time, Briana feared this time they shared would not--could not--last forever. She didn’t want to think beyond this moment, didn’t want to consider their return to Maith Fearann.
He eased her closer, looking back toward the palace. "Let’s go on, darling, to a place where no one can see us."
And then what? Sweet anticipation warmed her body, a need she could never deny, a wild hunger to be held in Weylyn’s arms. Innocent in the ways of love, she knew that whatever occurred between a man and a woman would be wonderful with Weylyn. She wanted this beautiful thing to happen, wanted it more than anything in her life. Yesterday, oh, yesterday! What would have transpired had they not had the interruption in the library?
Past more bushes and trees, they came to a lake, its waters glittering in the sunlight. They walked around the lake, coming to a gazebo, its walls of wood, a marble bench waiting inside. As soon as they stepped inside Weylyn drew her into his arms, kissing her as if they’d been separated for years. She returned kiss for kiss, holding him as close as possible, her fingers tracing every muscle, every bone in his back. Ah, she craved his body, loved the feel of him, he very essence of him, everything that made him the man she loved. She pressed ever closer, wanting to tease, torment, and drive them both to madness. If he didn’t make love to her now, this very minute she would go out of her mind.
"I want you so," he whispered in her ear between kisses. "Gods! Briana, I want you like nothing I’ve ever desired in my life."
"Me, too. Ah, Weylyn, you have no idea."
"Ah, but I--"
Whistling sounded near them, and they drew apart, a look of consternation on Weylyn’s face, a deep disappointment raging inside her. It seemed as if the sun had stopped shining, as if she were alone in the world. They glanced beyond the gazebo and saw a fairy gardener trimming the bushes, his clippers making a clicking sound as he cut away extra foliage. He caught their eye and winked, then went back to his job.
Weylyn sighed. "Is there a conspiracy against us?" he asked in his husky voice.
She leaned against his hard chest. "It seems that way."
"Darling, I’ve been thinking...." he licked his lips and started again. "Dear Briana, I love you so much, so very much. And I want you, but as my wife." A swell of gladness erupted inside her, a bright ray of sunshine. "Say you’ll marry me."
"Yes, oh, yes! Ah, Weylyn, I love you so much."
He held her tight again, kissing her, touching, caressing. After one last kiss, he drew back, a slight smile on his face. "Let’s go tell them. Perhaps they have druids, too--"
"If their druids resemble those in our country, I don’t want them handfasting us. I will live with you without benefit of marriage, if it comes to that."
"Let’s return to the palace and see. We can ask the queen, see what
she says, both about our getting married and who performs the ceremony. Maybe by tonight...." he smiled, needing no more worlds to say what they both felt.
They found the queen at the palace as she was stepping out of yet another spacious room ahead of several ministers, all of them apparently leaving a conference. Briana glanced inside the room. A long oaken table occupied a space in the center, with cups and saucers at each place, and the remains of pastries on a tray. These people surely do eat a lot, she mused, yet they all stayed slender.
The queen greeted them, while the ministers smiled and walked on. "Ah, there you are. Did you have a nice walk? See the countryside?"
"A nice walk and a nice talk, madam." Weylyn paused. "We were wondering if, that is, we thought we might...."
"We want to get married," Briana intervened. "We wondered if you have druids who perform the handfasting ceremony."
The queen frowned in disapproval. "We don’t have druids in our country. We have priests, including one for the palace. And yes, I shall ask him to conduct the ceremony. However, we have a rule that a man and a woman must wait three days after they declare their intention to wed."
Briana’s heart sank, and she caught the disappointed expression on Weylyn’s face.
"You understand, I’m sure," the queen continued. "Often a man and woman may say they wish to wed, when really all they want is to lie together. Spur of the moment, don’t you know. Then later, they may decide the marriage was a mistake. This is our way of preventing such an occurrence. I’m sure you understand."
* * * *
"Ah, marriage," the queen said during the evening meal, an informal gathering in which a few ministers and their ladies joined her, Briana and Weylyn. He looked across the table at Briana, lovelier than ever in a beautiful dress of red rosebuds and green vines. Her long blonde hair was piled atop her head, with red ribbons woven through the tresses.
"How well I remember my own marriage," the queen said after a sip of wine, "so long ago."
"Marriage, madam?" Weylyn immediately chastised himself for his impulsive inquiry.
"Why, yes." She beamed in fond recollection. "Four-hundred years ago."
Four-hundred years! He nearly choked on his food and caught Briana’s startled glance across the table.
"And I never remarried, never met the man who could take his place." She sighed. "Maybe one of these days, but I’m in no hurry."
For one long moment, Weylyn stared at his plate, too overcome by this world, these people. Yet he’d never seen such good will, such kindness and happiness in his life. These fairies had much to teach the people of Maith Fearann.
His gaze on Briana, he thought about the approaching wedding day, and a rush of desire claimed him, a yearning so strong he thought everyone at the table could sense his feelings. But everyone else continued to eat and drink, with light chatter and laughter and good-natured ribbing between ministers.
After the meal, the queen led him and Briana to yet another room, this one a small conference room with an oval table. They made casual talk for a few minutes after the queen asked them about their life in Maith Fearann.
Queen Cinnie rested her hands on the table. "You two have given me much to think about." She paused.
"Madam?" Weylyn wondered if she was waiting for a comment from him.
"And I regret never questioning the others."
What? At a loss to understand, he remained silent, as did Briana.
"Samhain," the queen said, as if that holy day explained everything. "Why do you suppose the demons encroach on your land that eve?" She gave him a piercing look.
He sat up straight. "They do more than encroach, madam. They--"
"I asked you a question, sir, and I want an answer."
Weylyn sat back and crossed his legs, needing time to frame a reply. This was a new Queen Cinnie, he thought with shocked awareness. "They hate us, madam. They want to destroy us. It is only on Samhain eve that they are permitted to leave the Otherworld to threaten ours. For on that eve, the veil between the Otherworld and our own disappears, thus allowing their passage into our world."
She tapped her manicured fingers on the table. "Why do they want to destroy you? Sir, you are not answering my question."
"Madam, I am trying." He glanced at Briana and saw a perplexed look on her face, an emotion surely reflected on his own. "I think ... I think they want to get even with us."
"Get even--why?"
He swallowed, aware he had cornered himself. "Hundreds of years ago, the demons had their own country, south of ours. They lived and breathed, just as we do. They mated and had children. But over the years, a persistent drought ruined their farmland, so that they could no longer grow crops. Gradually, they moved into our land, needing land to farm."
"And was there land enough to share with them?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"But, what?"
"But we didn’t want them on our land." He spoke with resolve, determined to justify his country’s actions. "They were different from us. Brutish, with fur. Spoke in a language we couldn’t understand, a harsh, guttural language." He slid a glance to Briana again and saw her expression had changed ever so slightly, not so bewildered but perhaps more thoughtful. What was going through her mind? he wondered as he returned his attention to the queen.
"And did they hurt your people, physically, I mean?"
"No, but--"
"Young man, it seems to me you are having difficulty justifying your country’s treatment toward these people. So what happened when they realized they weren’t wanted in Maith Fearann? Did they return to their own country? Go to another?"
Weylyn stared down at his hands, a dawning comprehension replacing his earlier sense of righteousness. "Our king conscripted every available male and marched on the demons. Slaughtered them all, men, women, and children." Shame washed over him, and at first he couldn’t look at the queen or Briana.
"Ah." Queen Cinnie sat back in her chair, a look of shocked disgust on her face.
Briana spoke so quietly, at first he didn’t hear her. "And Samhain eve, I suppose, is their way of getting even with us." She sighed. "I never thought of it that way. Never looked at the situation from their viewpoint."
Weylyn rallied, still reluctant to concede the discussion. "If we didn’t lock our doors, they would slaughter us all. They are stronger than we are."
The queen looked his way. "Do you suppose if you could prove to them that you mean no harm now, that you are sorry for what happened in the past, they would leave your people alone?"
"Madam, that is an impossible task. No one would attempt to get near them. We wouldn’t have a chance to speak one word to them."
"It has been the biggest regret of my life that I have never explained to your people--these visitors we’ve had in the past--how to make peace with the demons." She paused, frowning. "You see, we had a similar situation in our world, thousands of years ago. Other creatures from another country moved into our land. We, too, feared them because they were different, much taller than we, with white skin and no hair. Without words, we threatened them, committed crimes against them that even now cause me shame. We burned their barns, destroyed their crops. Naturally, they retaliated, kidnapped our children, burned our houses down in the dark of night." She pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed. "This went on for years, until we had a new king, a much wiser one than the previous king. He was a scholar who had studied many languages. He discovered a language from ages past, a universal language easily understood by all people, throughout all times. Why we had never heard or spoken this language before, I have no idea. Perhaps because we felt so superior to all other creatures and expected them to learn our speech, our ways."
"A universal language," Weylyn said, a question in his voice.
"Yes, I will get to that shortly." She paused. "With no escorts, our king traveled to their capital, and in their language, asked to speak to their ruler. Oh, I’m sure he experienced fear, afraid they would kill him. T
hey did no such thing. Brought before their ruler, he knelt and bowed his head, then looked up at their king and said the words that conveyed that he wanted peace and meant them no harm. At first, they did not accept his words, and he feared he had spoken them incorrectly. But after a long discussion in their own speech, they repeated the same words to him. From then on, we lived together in peace." Her expression turned sad. "But alas, they died several hundred years ago and are no more.
"All of them?"
She nodded. "A disease known only to them killed them all. And we had no cure else we would have helped them. But for a time, we had a wise king, one who saved their people and ours."
Weylyn let out a long breath. "If only we knew these words, the ones you spoke of that mean peace." He shook his head. "But no, it would never work for us. Our king, I fear, is not a peacemaker. Nor one who would have the courage to face these demons. And who would be brave enough to do that?" He sighed. "No, it would never work."
"One more question," the queen said. "Surely it is not only your village the demons enter on Samhain. This occurs throughout the kingdom, at all the villages and cities?"
"Madam, I suppose so. We have heard tales from other parts of our country, so I assume it is not only Lochlann they threaten."
"But if someone would approach these creatures on Samhain eve, perhaps these ... demons, as you call them, would carry the word back to their fellow men."
"Madam, no one knows the words of peace. And who would be willing to face the demons on Samhain?"
"I would, if I knew the words."
They both threw a glance at Briana, Weylyn with a spurt of alarm. "No, Briana, I will not have you endanger yourself." Arguments churned in his head. Could he do it? "But none of our people know these words."
"I shall teach them to you." The queen spoke with quiet assurance, as if she had made a simple request, rather than asking a near impossible task. "Repeat these words after me. Es urta l gret. En laret nenen set k sarnen." She waited while they both repeated the words. "I come in peace," she translated. "My people mean you no harm."