Flight of the Raven

by Judith Sterling

  The huntsman came up alongside the stable boy. “Her ladyship heals the hounds,” he said. Then his gaze dropped to the floor. “They know her voice like they know mine.”

  An elderly man with hunched shoulders and faded blue eyes stood beside the huntsman. “My lord,” he said, clasping his hands together, “I’m Roderic, the beekeeper. My assistant would be lost without her ladyship’s help. As I would be, without her kindness.”

  One after another, the people spoke. Each story, each compassionate word, hammered William like the torrential rain pounding the keep. He absorbed it all, adding their memories to his, until his throat ached.

  Suddenly, he felt a tug at his tunic. He looked down and stared into a pair of innocent, brown eyes, brimming with tears. They belonged to Martin, Tilda’s five-year-old brother. William thought of the boy’s imaginary bout with Saracens…and how tightly his small arms had hugged Emma.

  “Please,” Martin said, his lips quivering. “Don’t let Lady Ravenwood die.”

  William’s heart lurched. Gently, he placed his hand on Martin’s tousled, red hair. “I’ll do what I can.”

  The weight of Ravenwood’s sorrow pressed down on him, and his emotions threatened to overflow. Brusquely, he turned and strode from the hall. He climbed the steps two at a time to his bedchamber.

  As he pushed open the door, three tired faces turned to him. Meg, Wulfstan, and Father Cedric stood beside the bed, blocking his view of Emma. All he could see was the slight mound in the fur coverlets, beneath which lay Emma’s feet.

  He stepped over the threshold, and the warmth from the hearth reached out to him. “I must see my wife,” he said. “How does she fare?”

  Meg’s expression was grim. “Not as well as I’d like.”

  His chest tightened. His throat burned.

  Wulfstan turned to Meg and placed his hands on her shoulders. “We’ve done all we can,” he said. “The rest is up to her.”

  Meg nodded in silence.

  “I’ll be below if you need me,” Wulfstan said, dropping his arms. He gave William a sympathetic glance, then left the chamber.

  William found his voice. “Father Cedric,” he said, “the people have gathered in the hall. They could use your support.”

  “I shall go to them,” the priest replied, closing his prayer book. “Keep faith, Meg…my lord.”

  Father Cedric stepped away from the bed. At last, William glimpsed Emma’s face. ’Twas flushed, devoid of expression.

  He rushed forward. Meg patted his arm in a motherly manner.

  “You sit with Emma,” she said as the door thudded closed. “I’ll rest by the fire.”

  Her hoarse voice tugged at his memory. “Does your head pain you?” he asked.

  “Not overmuch,” she said. “Save your concern, and your prayers, for Emma.”

  He nodded. As Meg shuffled toward the fire, he focused again on his wife.

  He touched her fevered brow, then took her hand in his. Her flesh was unthinkably hot. Her hand was so small.

  The questions he’d buried all day pushed their way to the surface. What if she never opened her eyes? Never smiled, never laughed, never talked with him again?

  His soul knew the answer. If she died, he would go on. But a part of him would be lost forever.

  He wanted to shake her, to will her awake. Instead, he squeezed her hand and sent her a message, soul to soul.

  Live, Emma, he pleaded. Live.

  ****

  A long time later, Meg asked William to leave. Reluctantly, he returned to the solar, where a fire now brightened the hearth. Robert and Wulfstan sat before it, sipping from pewter cups. The small table between them held a large pitcher and a platter of sliced meats and bread.

  William’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. Physically and emotionally drained, he claimed the seat beside Robert and stared into the flames.

  “Would you like some wine?” Robert asked.

  “No,” said William.

  “Some food, perhaps?” Wulfstan offered.

  “Not now.”

  Robert sighed heavily. “When did you last eat?”

  “Supper last night.” With Emma.

  Wulfstan leaned forward. “Think of all that has happened since then.”

  William turned to him. “Aye. I killed your brother.”

  “I know,” said Wulfstan. “I was there.”

  William’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t mourn his loss?”

  Wulfstan shook his head. “Aldred lived to hurt others. Who knows what darker ends he would’ve sought next?”

  “I misjudged you,” William said. “For that, I’m sorry.”

  Wulfstan’s blue eyes widened.

  “Do my ears deceive me?” Robert asked.

  “They do not,” William said, his gaze still on Wulfstan. “And I want to you to know, I appreciate your efforts to help Lady Ravenwood.”

  Wulfstan blinked. “Are you saying—”

  “Aye,” said William. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emma thought she heard her mother calling to her. But how? From within the womb before birth? From the mysterious realm of spirit? The harmonious sound beckoned, beseeched her to wake.

  She opened her eyes. Two shadows loomed over her, but slowly, her vision focused.

  “Meg,” she murmured.

  The elderly woman smiled. “Child, you’re awake.”

  “Barely,” Emma said, fighting the urge to sleep. She shifted her gaze. “William.”

  “Emma,” he said. Relief resonated in his deep, beloved voice.

  Meg lifted Emma’s head a few inches and pressed a cup to her lips. “Here, drink some wine.”

  Emma swallowed several sips. She’d never been so thirsty in her life.

  “Not too much now,” Meg said. She withdrew the cup and let Emma’s head rest again on the pillow. “You’ve been racked with fever for two days, ever since…”

  The memory of betrayal came flooding back. “I remember,” Emma said. “Where is Gertrude?”

  “We don’t know,” said William. “She supposedly fled to Nihtscua, but no one there has seen her.”

  “And Aldred?”

  “Dead.”

  She closed her eyes. “God be praised.”

  “Not to mention your husband,” Meg said.

  Emma looked up at him. “Did you—”

  “Aye. I killed him.”

  “And you’re safe,” she said with a smile.

  His warm hand smoothed her brow. “I am,” he said. “And so are you.”

  “Thanks to Wulfstan,” said Meg.

  William cocked an eyebrow at the older woman. “You had something to do with it.”

  Meg grinned. “Something.”

  Emma sighed. “I’m too trusting.”

  “No one blames you for trusting Gertrude,” William said.

  Her stomach quivered. “Don’t be angry, William.”

  “I’m not,” he said.

  “You will be once you’ve heard what I have to say. Promise me you’ll try to understand.”

  He furrowed his brow, but nodded. “I promise.”

  “The morning Wulfstan arrived, I had a revelation. I suddenly knew, without a doubt, that I loved you and wanted to give myself to you fully.”

  With a tender half-smile, he regarded her. “Do you mean what I think you do?”

  “If you think I want you in my bed, then you’re right.”

  His eyes held a glint of mischief. Then he sobered. “Why would I be angry about that?”

  “Just listen,” she said. “I hoped that if we shared the act of love, I’d eventually earn yours. But until I did, I needed protection from the curse. So I thought of a temporary solution.”

  “What solution?”

  She took a deep breath. “The drink, or what I thought I was drinking, was supposed to prevent pregnancy. But only until you loved me.”

  A shadow fell over his face.

  Meg placed a hand on his arm. �
�She was still taking a chance. Such medicine is unreliable.”

  Emma’s heart swelled. “’Twas worth the risk. Believe me, William, I never meant to hurt you, and I want to give you heirs. But I also want to live.”

  His gaze seemed riveted on a ray of sunlight that streamed through the open window to the foot of the bed. But finally, he met her gaze.

  “I think I understand,” he said.

  The warmth in his dark eyes infused her with hope. “Thank you,” she said.

  He gave her a look full of meaning. “You are my wife. Your pain is mine.”

  She smiled, recalling the night she’d uttered similar words to him. Obviously, they’d made their mark.

  “Shall I leave you two alone?” Meg asked.

  He shook his head. “I must away. Robert and I are off to Nihtscua to look for Gertrude. Wulfstan has agreed to help us.”

  Emma yawned. Her eyelids felt heavy. “How long will you be gone?” she asked.

  “A fortnight at most.”

  “So long?”

  With a grin, he caressed her cheek. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover, including the North Woods. But I’ll return as soon as possible. In the meantime, you must rest and regain your strength. Do as Meg tells you.”

  “Listen to the man, Emma,” Meg said spiritedly.

  Emma’s eyes closed of their own accord. She could listen to no one and nothing but the siren song of sleep.

  ****

  Ten days later, Emma was fully recovered. She spent the crisp, autumn morning flitting between the herb garden and her workshop. In the afternoon, she chatted with servants picking fruit in the orchards.

  After an ample, delicious supper, she retired to the solar to enjoy the crackling fire and indulge in the activity which made her feel closest to William. With a steady hand, she pressed her quill to the parchment and practiced writing Arabic characters.

  She longed for his return. Ten days without him had seemed a lifetime.

  With a sigh, she bent over the long, candle-crowded table and wrote a full word. To her right was Meg; to her left, Tilda. Both women leaned forward to examine Emma’s work.

  “What is it?” Tilda asked.

  “My name,” Emma answered.

  “It looks a bit odd,” Tilda said.

  “Perhaps,” said Meg. “But things that are odd are often the most beautiful.”

  Emma smiled. “’Tis exotic.”

  Suddenly, a cacophony of male voices and horse hooves sounded in the bailey. Emma’s heart did a somersault. She looked to Tilda, then Meg. “Do you think…” she began, but the words tripped on her tongue.

  Meg grinned. “That Lord Ravenwood is back?”

  Emma couldn’t speak. She nodded.

  Meg tilted her head. “There’s only one way to know.”

  Emma dropped the quill. She grasped the skirt of her red tunic, lifting it six inches off the floor. Ladies weren’t supposed to grab their skirts, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She dashed from the solar to the forebuilding, then halted at the top of the stairs.

  The night wind kissed her cheeks as she scanned the bailey. A host of men milled about, but only one commanded her gaze.

  Clothed in his customary black, William stood beside his warhorse. Geoffrey took Thunder’s rein, and William turned slowly, as though sensing Emma’s stare.

  “William!” she cried, waving.

  He beamed up at her. Her heart leapt, and she floated down the steps. He snapped into action and crossed the courtyard with long, impatient strides.

  They met at the base of the stairs. She threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Raven,” he murmured.

  She relished the feel of his strong arms enfolding her. The rich timbre of his voice was like music, like coming home.

  “I missed you,” she said against his chest.

  “And I you.”

  Warmed by his admission, she lifted her head and gazed into his luminous, black eyes. “You must be hungry and longing for the fire,” she said. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Kiss me first.”

  She giggled. “If you insist.”

  His lips claimed hers, and she surrendered to a deep, soulful kiss. A full minute later, he pulled away and whispered in her ear. “I may not need a fire after all.”

  His hot breath tickled her ear. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Perhaps a cold bath?”

  He chuckled. “Come, let’s go inside.”

  Hand in hand, they started up the stairs.

  “You look well,” he remarked. “Radiant, in fact.”

  “I followed your advice, and Meg’s, of course. But tell me, where’s your brother?”

  “He stayed behind at Nihtscua, but he’ll be back within the week. He and Wulfstan are becoming friends.”

  “Really? And you approve?”

  “I do, though I can hardly believe it.”

  “Nor can I, but I’m pleased.”

  “I’m pleased for Nihtscua. The people will finally have a decent master, but there’s much to be done. Aldred left the place in horrible repair.”

  “Did you find Gertrude?”

  William squeezed her hand as they entered the keep. “Not a trace of her. She’s simply disappeared.”

  “Well, as long as she stays away from Ravenwood, I’m content.”

  “I’d rather avenge you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve a feeling her deeds will catch up with her, in one way or another.”

  As they entered the solar, Meg and Tilda looked up from the parchment on the table.

  “My lord,” Tilda said, bobbing a curtsy.

  Meg glanced at their linked hands, then flashed William a smile. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. Then he glimpsed the parchment. “What is that?”

  Meg turned to Tilda. “We’ll let Emma explain,” she said, winking at the handmaiden. “Won’t we?”

  Tilda stared at Meg for a long moment, then seemed to understand. “Aye,” she said quickly.

  “Enjoy your evening,” Meg said. Then she and Tilda made a beeline for the door.

  Snaps and whispers rose from the fire. They were the only sounds in the room, with the possible exception of Emma’s thumping heart.

  Alone at last, she thought.

  William guided her to the table, then grinned as he studied the parchment.

  “Arabic,” he said. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “I have. ’Twas the next best thing to having you beside me.”

  He smiled. “Well, I’m beside you now,” he said. Then he sobered. “And I must speak with you.”

  She studied his face. “About?” she prompted.

  He cleared his throat. “First, I must correct you. You believe the people don’t love you, but while you were ill, every one of them came to the hall. They prayed for you, cried for you, and sang your praises to the battlements. You’ve made an impression on Ravenwood that has nothing to do with your medicines or visions. It stems from your character and your heart. You sought the people’s love, but ’twas yours all along.”

  She blinked back tears.

  “’Tis time you accepted Ravenwood’s devotion,” he continued. “And…I ask you to accept mine.”

  She held her breath.

  “I’ve fought a dreadful battle, Emma. I made you pay for the betrayal of another and the bitterness in my heart. ’Twas wrong of me, and I took you for granted. But when I thought I might lose you, I didn’t care about Ravenwood or the sons I’d never have. For the first time, I envisioned my life without you, and ’twas darker and colder than anything I’ve ever known. I want you, Emma. I need you. I…love you.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she absorbed the magnitude of his words. The curse was broken. “I love you too,” she whispered.

  He took her face in his hands, and his thumbs wiped away her tears. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.

  “I’m just so happy,” she said.

 
; He kissed her tenderly, sharing the tide of emotion as his mouth worshipped hers.

  When at last he pulled away, she smiled. Sniffling, she glanced at the tapestry of “The Forest Dance” on the wall behind him.

  “While the fever was upon me, I had the strangest dream,” she said. “It involved that tapestry.”

  William looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Tell me.”

  “I was here in the solar,” she began, “and I saw you looking up at it. So I went to you and took your hand. As I touched you, you became transparent, like a ghost. Then we floated up and entered the tapestry.”

  His face paled.

  “William?” she said.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  She nodded. “Once we were in there, I asked you to stay with me by the fire, but you refused. Then the most extraordinary thing happened. You transformed into a raven and flew into the forest. Suddenly I was a raven, too, so I flew after you. I searched everywhere, but the forest was so dark. You were lost to me…until I heard your voice.”

  “A raven’s voice?”

  “No, your own.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Just one word. ‘Live.’ You said it over and over, and I followed the sound until I found you. You were trapped in a mass of twisted branches, but somehow, you broke free. Then together, we flew out of the forest and into the light.”

  William turned and stared at the tapestry. “I had a similar dream, ages ago it seems.”

  Emma came alongside him. She slipped an arm around his waist, and his arm closed around her shoulders.

  “Did it end the same way?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered, gazing down at her. “I might’ve stayed in that forest forever, if not for you. My dear, sweet raven. You braved the darkness and brought me back into the light.”

  Her throat tight with emotion, she looked up at his beloved face. Within his eyes, she saw everything she’d always wanted…and more.

  “One thing puzzles me, though,” he said, turning back to the tapestry. “What are those two small shadows at the edge of the forest?”

  “I believe they’re ravens.”

  “They weren’t there before.”

  “William, I’ve studied this tapestry since I was a little girl. Those shadows have always been there.”