Creating Memories - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 6)

by Shea,Lisa

  Behind her, Jessica did not even wait for her to move out of earshot before pressing her conversation with Falcon. “You see, she is a member of the bandits, as I warned you,” she extolled with fierce energy. “You need to keep a close eye on her. Bandits often know the wares of an area, so that they can fence goods for the highest price. Undoubtedly she was sent into this potter’s home to learn what was most valuable. Notice how she picked that vase from the collection right away.”

  The voice faded away as Storm moved inside, and she was grateful for the silence. After she washed up, she stood by the window, staring at the beautiful vines twining around the vase, the gentle colors of the reeds within. She could not bring herself to go down to lunch, to face Jessica and Falcon.

  It was best that she remained alone.

  Her thumb instinctively fell to rub at her silver ring, turning it with gentle familiarity. She dropped her eyes to the small item, the delicate forget-me-nots tracing around its edge. Deep despair swept through her. If only the tiny trickles of memory would open up, turn into a deluge, and remove all the guessing from her world.

  She drew in a shaky breath. Even if she were with the bandits before, it would be better to know the truth, to accept that past and to move on. Being caught in a state of unknowing, of sorting out lies and deceptions, was tearing her apart.

  The ring seemed to symbolize her standing alone. It echoed most firmly within her when her thoughts tended in that direction. Maybe that had been why she had set her path toward the nunnery? To be protected, alone, and safe?

  A wave of warmth washed through her, and she eased back onto the stool, letting her breath out in a long, grateful heave. Thom had proven that her past memory fragments were truthful. She would trust completely in them. She would trust that they were providing a path – no matter how faintly lit – back toward her true nature. She would follow those clues, one small step at a time, until they helped her become whole again.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Storm turned to find Falcon pushing it open, carrying a platter of cheese and bread. Behind him, Mary brought in a mug of mead.

  “I thought you might be planning to dine alone this afternoon,” offered Falcon with a wry smile.

  Storm chuckled despite herself, and he placed the platter down at the table by her side. Mary added the mug of mead to her setting, then discreetly left the two together.

  Falcon spoke without preamble. “You know, even if you are not from the nunnery, there are many explanations other than your being a bandit,” he mused. “Jessica has latched onto that idea; we both know she is hardly unbiased in this matter. I will wait to pass judgment until we know for sure what the situation is. So far, it seems what you remember is honest, and what she presents is less so.”

  Storm took a long drink of the mead before gazing at Falcon. “I realize my faint memories are ethereal at best, but they also feel as if they come from my very core,” she explained. “When I hold my sword, it is as if I am ready to protect Heather, Zack, or little Caroline from harm. When I climb onto Mercury’s back, I thrill with the gentle movement, not the fury of the chase.”

  She looked down at the silvered ring. “And this, it echoes the most strongly of all. The images have been soft, but clear. I wrapped myself in a vow as a young teenager. It had to do with remaining alone.” She closed her eyes, her thumb moving to the metal band. “And when I think of thundering off toward the nunnery to seek shelter, safety, and security …” The waves of warmth rose again, encompassing her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, drinking in the sensation. She opened her eyes, and Falcon’s were on her. He seemed lost in her gaze, nodding in understanding.

  “You look more at peace, just now, than I have ever seen you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

  Storm dropped her eyes. “I just wish I knew more, that the sluice gates would open and my memory would finally release its floods.” She twined her fingers together. “I do not know how to even explain what it feels like. I have lost myself. I have no sense of who I am, or why.”

  She drew her eyes up to meet his again. “Let us take Jessica, for example. Perhaps she is jealous because, in the past, another girl ran off with her beau. Maybe she swore to never let that happen again. Perhaps she is proud because over the years she has struggled and worked hard to build her trade, and she feels those years of effort have finally paid off. Perhaps she is sharp because her father was a harsh man, and maintaining that edge was the only way to survive in her household.”

  She let out a long breath. “Jessica has a rounded sense of herself, based on all of those memories and experiences. She can think of herself as talented or efficient or driven. She can plan out her actions based on who she is.”

  She ran a hand distractedly through her hair. “I have no grounding at all. I have no events to lean on. I have no sense of a foundation. It feels as if I am lost in a whirlwind, without the slightest hint of where I came from.”

  Her eyes moved again to the ring. “Even if I did flee to this nunnery for safety – where had I been before that? Had I been with the bandits and then repented? Perhaps both stories are true.”

  Falcon dropped to one knee in front of her. “I am telling you, it does not matter to me,” he swore. “Whatever you were before you came to our door, that is not what you are now.”

  He took a deep breath, then continued more quietly, “I cannot believe that, when your memories return, your personality will suddenly change you into a different person. It seems much more likely that you will be as you always have been – but with more awareness of what you have escaped by coming here.”

  Storm looked up, caught by his words. “Escaped?”

  Falcon’s eyes took on a haunted look. “A dagger beneath your pillow. The ability to defend yourself with a sword. Scars on your legs.” He paused, then pressed on. “There is more. I see the way you look when I walk into the room – you are suddenly a rabbit, desperate for a hole to hide in.”

  He gently laid a hand alongside her cheek. A wry smile ghosted his face as she resisted the urge to flinch and relaxed into his touch. “Whatever life you led until now, I believe it was dense with pain and suffering. You may not wish to remember it.” His voice dropped down to become quiet. “You may not wish to return to it.”

  Storm was silent. She had spent so much time worrying about what her past would reveal to her that it had not fully sunk in that she could simply choose not to return to that way of life. Whatever she had been, she could choose an entirely new direction for her future.

  She took in a long breath. Maybe, even if she had been with the bandits in the past, she could indeed turn over a new leaf and pledge herself fully to the nunnery. She could dedicate her life to redeeming her actions, whatever they had been.

  Falcon relaxed as he saw her mood lighten, and then smiled himself. He moved to sit again on the bed. “That choice lies in the future. For now, finish up your lunch. Then let us enjoy the sunny day we have before us. Come riding with me.”

  A smile played on Storm’s lips. “What about Jessica?”

  Falcon’s smile matched her own. “She has gone up to her father’s, to replenish her supplies. Those men with her were from her father’s force. She only stopped in to … warn me.”

  Storm kept her face neutral. “They seemed able enough men.”

  Falcon’s bark was harsh. “Able enough – they are hired mercenaries. Jessica’s father has a small army to move his wares, and I have always half suspected that legitimate goods did not make up the bulk of his business. I have never found proof of it, and I had great hopes that Jessica was turning over a new leaf, free from her father’s taint. Only time will tell … but for now, it is just you and me.”

  Chapter 16

  Storm woke early the next morning and sat by the window for a long time, lost in thought. It was October thirty-first, Samhain. The harvest had been brought in; the year had come to an end. It was time for the long, cold dreariness of winter to begin. The spring celeb
rations of reawakening seemed a long time off.

  She moved through the preparations and morning mass with distraction. She was halfway through lunch before Falcon drew her from her thoughts.

  “Will you be joining us for the festivities tonight?” he asked for what apparently was the third time.

  Storm shook away the cobwebs in her mind, nodding in agreement. “Certainly. What do you have planned?”

  “Drinking, singing, perhaps some dancing. We put out all the candles, everywhere, to indicate that the harvest is done and the year is over. Then tomorrow morning we light them afresh, as we begin anew.”

  Storm looked up at this, becoming caught by Falcon’s eyes. “Begin anew,” she echoed, her heart calming.

  Could it really be so easy?

  Falcon tenderly took her hand in his and nodded encouragingly. “Every day you have the ability to start on a new path, to chart a fresh course for yourself. Tonight, of all nights, that is natural and proper. It is what Samhain is all about.”

  The room was decorated with sheaves of wheat and a rainbow assortment of gourds. Soon Molly and Heather were bringing out roast goose, steamed turnips, fish stew, and pitchers of wine. Villagers streamed in, bringing in samples of their own ales and viands to complement the already groaning tables.

  The volume of noise in the room grew steadily as more people arrived. Storm spotted Carol across the room, and moved across to greet her, thanking her profusely for both her own dress and the lovely rose dress she had made for Heather.

  “There she is now,” added Storm with a smile. “Look how pretty she is in it!”

  As Storm watched, David and Shawn came up behind Heather, pinching her on the bottom. Heather spun, half pleased at having attracted such attention, half shocked at their outrageous behavior. Her look quickly lost its smile as the pair leant in more aggressively, pressuring her backwards.

  Storm furrowed her brow. If those miscreants thought they were going to abuse her Heather … she dropped her hand to her knife and began striding forward.

  A strong hand caught her on the upper arm, and she whirled in anger. Falcon held her easily in his grasp, his eyes focused on the young maid.

  “Let me go,” hissed Storm, her voice tight with fury. “Surely you saw -”

  Falcon cut her off with a low shushing noise. “Look,” he insisted, nodding with his head.

  Storm turned against him; he had not relinquished his grip on her arm. To her surprise, Zach was pushing his way through the crowd and interjected himself between Heather and the two boys. Storm could not hear what was being said over the loud hubbub of the room, but she could see clearly in his stance that he was defending her.

  The two other boys pressed forward, expecting him to give way – and he stood firm. She saw his eyes flash; saw the surprised look in the two soldiers’ eyes as they realized he would not back down.

  In a moment it was over. The soldiers turned, moving on to other pursuits, and Zach took Heather’s hands in his own. She gazed up at him tenderly, her face aglow.

  Storm slowly exhaled, becoming aware that she had been holding her breath. “I had not realized …” she sighed, looking between the two young people.

  “Nor had I,” admitted Falcon, his voice coming close behind her. He still held her arm, and she was flooded with the knowledge that his fingers had become more of a gentle embrace, that his chest was pressed up against her back. She could smell the rich muskiness of him, and that elusive hint of sweet woodruff.

  She drew herself away, fighting the emotions rising within her. Shaking loose his hand, she moved forward to the couple. They smiled up at her as she approached them.

  “Zach, do you play any instrument?” she asked without preamble as she drew to a stop before them.

  Zach blushed but nodded. “I play the lute. My uncle does not think it a proper instrument for a soldier, but my mother used to enjoy it, before she died. It made me happy to bring some joy into her world.”

  Storm added a gentle prod to her tone. “Maybe you could accompany Heather in playing some background music for us, then?”

  Heather looked around the large room full of people with fright. “Here? With everyone staring at me?”

  Storm chuckled, patting her on the arm. “Listen to the noise,” she pointed out sagely. “They will barely hear you. It will just be a quiet background that perhaps one or two will make out. It would make me happy, to sit in a corner listening to you and taking a break from this babbling.”

  Heather’s face regained some of its color. “Well, if you put it like that, that would be fine, I guess.” She looked up at Zach. “If you would play with me?”

  Zach beamed. “It would be my honor. I will return in just a moment.” He turned and raced out a side door.

  Storm guided Heather over to a relatively quiet corner. She set up a pair of stools for Heather and Zach to sit on, then a bench for herself nearby. She was not surprised when Falcon came over to sit beside her in a moment, bringing a pair of mugs of mead.

  Zach returned promptly and strummed a few bars to tune his lute. Then he turned to look at Heather.

  Storm was touched by how sweetly the pair gazed at each other; how completely lost in each other’s faces they became. All of Heather’s nervousness melted away, and she sang her song directly to him, his melodies twining around her soaring voice. At first the tune was almost lost in the surrounding hubbub, but minute by minute the conversation faded away as all eyes turned to watch the young couple. By the time the two musicians finished the song, the hall was spellbound. As the last notes faded away, the hall erupted into thunderous applause.

  Heather and Zach looked up in surprise, then took hands and stood, bowing to the group. The evening became a series of songs – some quiet and somber, others loud and boisterous, with the entire village joining in to sing.

  The evening flew by in cascades of music and conversation. A festive mood imbued the night. To her surprise, even David and Shawn came over to congratulate the young singer and musician on their talents, and played along on a few songs with a pair of small drums.

  Soon it had reached midnight. All voices dropped to a murmur as the church bells chimed. People slowly moved around the rooms. Storm watched as the candles were extinguished one by one.

  The dark of the castle, filled with so many people, pressed in on her. She wended her way out into the courtyard to stand in the starlight, breathing in the peace of the night air.

  She was staring at the constellations when a familiar voice sounded by her ear. “Lost in the stars?” Falcon asked with a teasing grin.

  “Just wondering if it really is a new day tomorrow. A new year; a new start on life.” She blinked at the vastness of the universe above her. “How easy is it to start afresh?”

  Falcon looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. “Probably far more easy for you than for anyone else,” he pointed out. “You do not have years of history weighing you down. You can simply set your feet on a new path and head down it.”

  “Ah, but what path would I choose?” considered Storm. “What path can I choose?”

  There was a sharp whinny from the stables, and both turned their heads, dropping their hands to the knives at their side. Storm headed toward the noise without a second thought, and she heard Falcon curse under his breath as he moved alongside her. She knew he would rather she stayed behind; she also knew that was not going to happen.

  She eased cautiously through the main door, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was movement in the back of the stables. Slowly she crept toward it, feeling Falcon mirror her every move.

  A shaft of moonlight streamed across the hay at the back of the stable, and Storm saw motion … saw …

  She froze in place so quickly that Falcon ran into her; he put an arm around her, steadying himself. It was suddenly clear to both of them that there was no cause to worry. Zach and Heather were curled up together in the fragrant hay, tenderly kissing each other.

  Storm
moved sideways, into the shadows, ensuring she was not seen. Falcon’s strong arm was around her waist, his breath eased warmly against her neck.

  It was Samhain.

  The day for new beginnings.

  Storm felt sure that she was a free woman. Falcon was, as yet, an unclaimed man. There were many in the keep who were concerned with his chastity; concerned that he was damaging his health with the needless restriction. Storm had a sense that Mary, Molly, and the others would shower her with appreciation should she and Falcon become a couple for the long months until the wedding.

  She knew the ache in her own heart. She knew the heat which glowed in his eyes.

  The aromas of the leather saddles, the fresh hay, the musk of the horses surrounded her and permeated her. She could feel every rise and fall of Falcon’s chest against her body. She leant her head back against him, closing her eyes.

  Her thumb pressed down on the circle of flowers on her finger, and to her surprise a firm resolve spread throughout her being. As much as her body craved his touch, she could not abandon herself to the desire. It went against something at her very core.

  She caressed the ring’s cool metal, and a dawning realization came that perhaps her vow had to do with releasing herself to a man. An answering strength coursed through her, and the certainty grew with a steely firmness. But could it simply be a job requirement for her position at the nunnery? She dismissed the thought; she had a sense that it was deeper than that. It was something fundamental to her soul.

  His warmth was still around her, the richness of his scent sending tendrils to her heart, and she knew she had to resist the almost overpowering allure. It was not only this vow which held her in place. There was also an equally compelling torment in her soul. Her whole being was already filled with anguish at the thought of leaving him. If she allowed herself to grow even closer to him – to fall completely in love with him – what level of pain would she have to endure each day she was apart from him? How would she wake up each morning, knowing he was married to another woman, that he was always just beyond her reach?