The Valiant Heart (Kathleen Kirkwood HEART series)
Page 37
Brother Bernard’s brows drew downward as he pressed his lips together and mulled over Rurik’s words. “And yet ‘twas faith that brought Brienne to Valsemé when she agreed to wedlock with your father.”
Rurik cast his gaze to the churchman and bored him with a hard look. He remembered the tale, but held his tongue as the monk continued.
“Truly, ‘tis said, faith is a gift. But, Rurik, too often we hold tight to the reins of our lives as though we, in truth, determined their course or could alter their direction one fot. In the end we but get in the way and block the workings of the Almighty.”
Brother Bernard shrugged. “The will of God, who can fathom it? But faith, my son? Faith oft begins with naught but a grain of trust. Let go of the reins. They bind you, my son. Step from the pathway. Be open to God’s will.”
As Rurik continued to stare out over the water, a small window of light opened in his heart. He was flooded with a profound sense of relief as, deep within, he released his hold and passed the reins to Another. Stepping into the lake, he felt, in some wise, that he touched Brienne through their waters. His heart found peace.
“Set His Seal upon me, brother. My shield is at God’s feet.”
Brother Bernard smiled. Joining Rurik in the lake, he bent to scoop up the crystal liquid in cupped hands.
»«
It seemed that she was surfacing, swirling upward toward the light. Voices murmured about her, hushed whisperings. There was Elsie . . . and Aleth . . . and . . . Rurik! Rurik, so very near. Brienne surged toward his voice and broke through to consciousness.
She squinted, blinking several times as her eyes adjusted to the room’s brightness. Aleth turned from the fire just then and started forward, an earthen goblet in one hand and a bedraggled plant in the other. She looked up, of a sudden, and their eyes met.
Aleth squealed, dropping the cup to smash on the floor and startle every occupant in the room. It seemed they all drew their breath as one and held it, anxious and expectant of something. Brienne sensed they waited for her to speak, though she could not imagine why. She was too tired to reason it. Her throat was as parched as sun-baked sand, and her body ached as though bruised all over.
Brienne glanced about for Rurik, but her head throbbed and her vision blurred with the slightest of movements. Someone stirred at her side. The mattress sank and joyously Rurik came into view as he eased himself down on its edge. He, too, looked on her intently, waiting.
Brienne dragged her gaze back to Aleth, worried somewhat, for she still stood rooted solidly in place, eyes enormous, strangling the poor plant in her hand. A faint smile flirted across Brienne’s lips.
“‘Tis a weed,” she croaked out in a hoarse whisper.
Aleth ‘ s hands flew to her mouth, and tears began spilling from her eyes. “Nay, mugwort,” she returned, her voice strained. “‘Tis a powerful medicant, you know.”
Brienne and Aleth shared a smile, their thoughts attuned, and chorused, “Sister will know the truth of it.”
Brienne turned her head, though it pained her to do so. Her smile widened as she gazed lovingly on Rurik.
“Do not dispense of your weed too quickly, Aleth. I may yet have a use for it.”
Aleth shook her head, smiling softly. “Nay, dear friend. Of this I can be sure. Your great Norman has no need of such potions, not where you are concerned.”
Rurik’s hand closed warmly over Brienne’s where it rested at her waist. He had not entirely followed the women’s banter, but the play of wit assured him that Brienne was unimpaired and whole of mind.
As he leaned toward her, firelight glinted off the small gold cross at his neck. Brienne smiled at the sight of it. As she lifted her free hand to touch it, Rurik captured her fingers and pressed them to his lips. Then he bent, embracing her as he buried his face in the midnight tresses at her shoulder.
“Astin min, I thought you lost to me.”
Brienne touched her hand to his golden mane, her heart overflowing. “And I, you. Surely Heaven smiles upon us, my love, for you are with me still.”
Rurik raised himself to gaze on her. “Always, ástin mín. Till time has ceased its passage and the stars burn out.”
As love enveloped them with its fervent glow, they folded their words to silence. Rurik gathered Brienne tenderly in his arms and covered her lips with his. Their hearts were one.
— »»«« —
Epilogue
A shower of grain and jubilant cheers greeted Aleth and Ketil as they emerged from the portals of Valsemé’s church.
Brienne and Rurik followed, and they, too, were caught in the downpour. They laughed happily, remembering their own wedding. Brienne shielded her eyes against the spatter and turned to the shelter of Rurik’s chest. His arms enclosed her at once.
“Easy, ástin mín.” Rurik cautioned her of the steps. “I would not have you fall upon our babe.”
Brienne grinned up at him and smoothed her hand over the considerable swell of her abdomen. “Then ‘tis well you should aid me. ‘Twas your doing that rendered me thus, like a great, oversize pear.”
“I heard no complaints.” Rurik bent and kissed her beneath the ear, sending warm shivers down her neck and on to her toes.
“Will you two keep the rest of us trapped here the day?” Lyting chided from behind. “There is feasting to attend to. And other matters.” He winked, in high spirits, his crystal-blue eyes sparkling.
As Lyting quickened past, Brienne’s smile saddened a little. Lyting would always bear the scar upon his cheek wrought by Hastein’s sword. Truth to tell, he bore a multitude of scars because of her. But Aleth’s able hands and the finest of her own poultices had seen most healed to smooth, faint tracings. Yet could she ever look on him without remembering what he had endured?
Rurik gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, as though he read her thoughts. “Lyting is whole and hale,” he reassured her, nodding after his brother who now sprinted toward the bridal couple.
Swooping up Aleth, Lyting twirled her around and kissed her full on the lips before setting her down again.
‘Tis a day to be generous,” Lyting teased Ketil. “You will have fair Aleth to yourself evermore.”
“Bah! Find your own maid,” Ketil growled, but a grin split his blaze of whiskers.
“Not overloud, friend. The good brother intends that I remain celibate all my days and wed Holy Mother Church.” He nodded back to where Brother Bernard stood upon the steps beside Bolsgar.
“Then you’d best hurry, lad, before he snares you to that purpose,” Ketil returned good-naturedly. “But this one is taken.” With that, Ketil lifted Aleth atop the palfrey and began to lead her toward the keep.
Brienne and Rurik laughed. Just then a gaggle of children bustled merrily past, Elsie at the last, trailing spring violets. They watched as the sprite suddenly broke away, spying Waite, and lured him to the shadow of the building. Not to be forgotten, Patch scurried behind, tail beating furiously.
Brienne and Rurik exchanged amused glances as Elsie produced several little cakes from the folds of her dress and offered one to Waite. But it slipped from her fingers, and the spry little pup pounced on it and devoured it in a blink of an eye.
Brienne and Rurik broke out in full-hearted laughter. They turned to see the children’s mothers standing side by side, wagging their heads.
“I best learn them both of the kitchens and soon, or the tables will be bare at supper,” Waite’s mother, Ealdryth, remarked as she gently bounced the babe at her hip.
Brienne could not keep her eyes from the sweet little nursling, nor could Rurik. They stepped closer, but the mite instantly shied away, thrusting tiny fingers in her mouth and burrowing her head against her mother’s breast.
Ealdryth chuckled at her daughter, Waite’s new sister. “Be not dismayed, my lady. Babes are ever partial to their mothers. Soon enough you shall have both your arms amply full.”
“Both?” Brienne tilted her head as though she had misheard.
/> “My lady, you are overlarge for your time. ‘Twould be best to sew extra gowns and coverlets. ‘Tis foreseeable that you will present our good baron with a babe for each knee.”
Brienne and Rurik exchanged glances in total amazement. As they joined the wedding entourage and headed back to the keep, Rurik bent to her ear.
“Mayhap we should warn Aleth and Ketil of the pomegranate.”
Brienne laughed gaily and hugged his waist.
»«
Hours later, as the feasting and merriment continued, Rurik and Brienne slipped from the manor house to find a space of time to themselves.
As the sun began its descent, it promised a glorious sunset. They made their way to the top of the keep and gazed over their lands with contentment.
Spring had returned to the barony, greening Valsemé’s gentle hills and bringing all to budding life. Villeins continued to arrive steadily to place themselves in the baron’s service, and the garrison was strong with capable and loyal soldiers. However, their greatest joy lie in that they, themselves, would soon increase Valsemé by one . . . or two.
Rurik drew Brienne into his embrace and kissed her deeply. They felt the new life they had begun rumble between them, as though objecting to the intimacy. They shared a soft laugh. Then Rurik turned Brienne against his chest and wrapped his arms about her, leaving one hand to rest over that sanctum where their children dwelt. Brienne slipped her hand over his.
A great rack of clouds filled the sky, the soft, billowing tufts burnished amber against the crimsoned vault. As Rurik and Brienne gazed out over the barony, their happiness was complete. The melding had begun.
Author Biography
Kathleen Kirkwood is the pseudonym for award-winning, best-selling author Anita Gordon. Having an abiding love for history, she enjoys setting her stories in distant times and places long past. To date they include Medieval adventures and Late Victorian paranormal romances. After forty years of travels and raising children in various locations, Kirkwood and her husband have returned to the Southwest where they first met. Currently, she is working on a new novel, a haunting tale set on the Chesapeake Bay and the shores of historic Southern Maryland. Look for Pirates’ Moon in late 2013. Visit her at:
www.KathleenKirkwoodHistoricals.com
http://KathleenKirkwood.blogspot.com
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The Defiant Heart
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A maiden of Ireland enslaved . . .
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to far distant lands . . .
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the portals of time . . .
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A widowed Victorian Lady . . .
A mysterious Viscount . . .
A remote and ancient castle . . .
Where ghostly residents stir anew . . .
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Mysteries to be solved . . .
Wrongs to be righted . . .
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www.KathleenKirkwoodHistoricals.com/lady.html
Coming in Late 2013
Once every quarter of a century,
On the night of the blood red moon,
A ghostly ship sails forth,
Out of the mists of time . . .
http://www.KathleenKirkwoodHistoricals.com/pirates.html
Table of Contents
THE VALIANT HEART
Dedication
Author’s Notes
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Author Biography
Also Available
Coming in Late 2013