Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck: A Quest Through Time Novel ~ Books 1 & 2)

by Sherry Ewing

  He shut the lid with a snap. ’Twas obvious King Henry had plans for him, and with this subtle message, he would be duty bound to return to Warkworth, despite his desire never to set foot upon that land ever again. But ‘twould not be this day, and, ’til the king came into residence here at Bamburgh, Riorden would continue to put off the inevitable.

  A short knock came at the side chamber where a sleepy eyed Patrick entered. “My lord, you dressed without me assisting,” he cried out in disappointment.

  “Not quite. Help me don this armor, Patrick. I must needs get out of this place, once the sun has risen. We shall find Aiden, break our fast, and head to the stables. Perhaps, a ride on the strand will clear my head.”

  “Does something ail you, Lord Riorden? I can seek out the castle’s healer, if there is a need.”

  “Nay. ’Twas just a restless night, Patrick, not that I need to explain myself,” Riorden declared briskly.

  “My apologies, my lord. I forgot myself.”

  Riorden grumbled beneath his breath, hearing the words my lord one too many times to his liking. He did not care for this form of address when it was referring to him, and yet, he had the distinct feeling ’twas something he must needs get used to.

  The ritual of donning one’s armor took some time, but ’twas better to be prepared, since he did not have a guard to call his own watching his back. Riorden cursed, knowing this would be the next thing to irritate him if the king was to have his way. He quickly realized Patrick was chattering away, and he had no idea what the lad had been saying.

  “…and I have heard tell the place is full of ghosties.”

  “What place?”

  “Well, Bamburgh, of course. I hope we do not run into any that are restless with incomplete business. Do you think ’tis true, Lord Riorden?” Patrick said with a fearful, squeaky voice.

  Riorden looked quickly about his chamber for the apparition that had appeared afore him and yet he saw nothing but the room.

  “Come, Patrick, and let us be about this day,” Riorden uttered, not answering his squires question.

  They made their way to the tower stairs to the sound of Riorden’s metal armor clanking then descended to the lower floor. He would put away his fanciful thoughts of the woman in his dreams, wanting nothing more than to enjoy what he could of the morn to its fullest. First, to find Aiden, and then some much needed food. Surely, everything would appear normal on a full stomach.

  * * *

  Present Day

  Katherine’s footsteps faltered suddenly on the tower stairs. She felt dizzy, and it wasn’t from the fact that these blasted circular stone steps were oddly laid. No! She was dizzy because she could have sworn she had caught a vague glimpse of her knight ahead of her in the turret!

  “Come on, you pansy,” Emily prompted with a laugh. “I told you I’d help you down.”

  “You and your silly fear of heights,” Brianna said smugly as she hopped down two stairs at a time.

  Katherine threw them both a look, silencing any further laughter. “It’s not silly, and it’s not the height that’s the problem...well, maybe it is a little,” she declared. “Don’t you hear it?”

  They all stood there in silence, waiting to hear something that, apparently, only Katherine could hear.

  “I don’t hear anything other than tourists,” Juliana replied.

  “Shh!” Katherine hissed as she held up her hand and listened intently. She noticed her friends continued to stand in place, patiently waiting for something to happen. “There it is again.”

  “What?” Brianna, Juliana, and Emily asked, all at the same time.

  Katherine looked at her friends and could only whisper her answer. “Armor.” She noticed the shock on their faces. “Now let’s hurry, and Emily, please help me.”

  “Well, you’re the one who’s taking so long and has to put both feet on one stair before you move on to the next. You’re such a pan−”

  “Don’t you dare call me a pansy again, Emily… Just get me down these damn stairs!” Katherine shrieked.

  It was slow going until Katherine was at last on a lower level floor. Looking for her knight, she observed only the busy hall, overflowing with tourists milling around. Their voices and accents annoyed her as their chatter filled the room.

  “Well? Do you still hear it, Katie?” Juliana questioned awkwardly.

  Katherine only shook her head. “No. It’s all silent now. Dammit…you guys are going to think I’m nuts.”

  “We’d never think that, Katie,” Emily replied.

  “Please don’t worry, sis. It’ll be okay, so don’t look so crestfallen,” Juliana reassured her with a pat on her shoulder.

  “Ooh! I like that word, crestfallen. Can I use it, Jewels, for my dialog I’ve been stuck on?” Brianna asked hopefully.

  “Brie!” Juliana and Emily screeched together.

  “It’s okay, guys. I do feel rather crestfallen,” Katherine croaked through a forced smile.

  “It is a great word,” Brianna declared brightly.

  “Let’s grab us some lunch and have a picnic on the beach,” Emily suggested. “I know you love this place Katie, but to be honest, although Bamburgh is magnificent, it makes me a little uneasy. For some reason, it gives me the creeps…as though, I can almost feel the suffering that has gone on in its history.”

  “Of course it gives you the creeps, silly. The brochure says it’s haunted,” Brianna announced and pulled the pamphlet out of her purse.

  “Not now, you two. Can’t you see Katie is having a hard time?” Juliana said and began ushering the younger women through the throng of tourists.

  “I’ll catch up in a minute,” Katherine called out.

  Leaning her head back, she peered up to once more glance into the turret, straining to keep her sanity, yet at the same time, knowing she hadn’t imagined things. She couldn’t shake the intense feeling that something, or someone, was calling to her. Her nerves were stretched taut, almost to the point where she felt as if they were breaking. To steady herself, Katherine placed her hand on the stones in front of her, the wall of the stairs leading up into the tower. An electrical shock jolted up her arm, causing her to jerk her hand back, rubbing her numb fingertips. Now that was something real, and surely, not just her over active imagination. What the hell was going on with her and this place?

  She needed fresh air…that’s what she needed. Turning into the Great Hall to catch up with her friends, she found herself riveted to the floor. Even if she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t have. Hardly believing what she was seeing, she became mesmerized when the tourists milling around the chamber slowly vanished before her eyes.

  Only one man was left standing at the far end of the room, or rather, one knight. He had been reaching for something on a table when Katherine saw his shoulders flinch. His red cape swirled around his legs when he turned to face her. Their eyes locked and Katherine’s breath left her at the intensity reflected in his face. Shock, intermingled with excitement, rushed through her. Her whole body began to tingle. Good God, it’s him! Her mind screamed. He stood there with such a commanding presence about him that she had no recourse but to move in his direction.

  Inch by inch, the distance between them lessened as he, too, moved swiftly across the floor. Her arm extended, she reached for him, and yet their meeting was not to be. He quickly vanished, passing right through her. Her body lurched from the contact when the wispy vapor that had been him disintegrated upon their meeting. A soft cry of distress escaped her lips. How could fate be so cruel as to take him from her before they could speak even one word together?

  Modern surroundings returned, and Katherine became disorientated when she was rudely bumped by some jerk, who didn’t even mutter an apology. She swiveled around, trying to see if her knight was maybe still lurking in the hall, but there was no trace of him.

  She had taken no more than a few short steps, when a voice whispered inside her head. Katherine…come back to me, my love. Practically
falling into a nearby chair, her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Certainly, she couldn’t mistake the words that had come upon her, for he had called out her name. Jesus Christ! It was just like in her dream. She ran from the room as if a burning fire were licking at her shoes.

  Her friends gave her a what-the-hell-took-you-so-long look, but Katherine only shrugged. She decided, then and there, to keep what had just happened to herself for a change. The last thing she needed was her friends to think she should be admitted into the closest psych ward.

  It was a beautiful day outside, but Katherine saw none of it, as their little group made its way down to the beach. She refused to go too far from the castle, so they plopped themselves down on the sand with Bamburgh’s shadows surrounding them. They ate their sandwiches with their normal, easy conversation, but something was different. Not with her friends, but with herself. It wasn’t too long before her friends decided to take a walk down the beach. Katherine assured them that she would be fine and just needed some time alone.

  She watched them go to enjoy the afternoon, but Katherine could only feel a sense of loss surrounding her heart. She gazed back over her shoulder where the walls of the castle loomed high above her. Pulling her legs close to her chest, she rested her head on her arms and knees. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of the confusion coursing through her. She gave a weary sigh and felt on the verge of crying.

  A sound, almost like thunder, registered in her senses. But even knowing there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, she looked up. Three riders were fast approaching. As they drew closer, she noticed how one raised his hand and stopped to stare in her direction. Startled, her mouth hung open in silence, and she could only surmise she must have fallen asleep. How else, but in a dream, could her knight be riding to her side?

  Chapter 5

  Riorden raised his hand and halted his group’s progress along the beach. They had pushed their steeds hard this morn as they galloped along the strand, but that is not what had caused him to stop their return to Bamburgh. There, against the backdrop of the castle, was the woman who had appeared to him yester eve. The very same woman from his dream, and the one he had seen in both the passageway and the Great Hall. Her clothing was unchanged, but he could not, for the life of him, explain her odd garments.

  Aiden came abreast of Riorden’s horse with a question upon his visage. “Is something amiss?”

  Riorden quirked his brow, letting out the breath he had been holding. “Do you see the woman there?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the sand dune ahead of them.

  He watched as Aiden’s gaze swept the sand, but apparently he saw nothing out of the ordinary; just the ocean, the beach, and the castle looming high above. “I see naught, Riorden, and certainly nary a woman.”

  “You will think I am mad when I tell you I see her, but I assure you, I am not.”

  “’Tis a ghostie,” Patrick whispered as he began to cross himself to ward off any evil spirits.

  “Hush, Patrick,” Aiden told his brother.

  Riorden watched as Aiden searched his face, as if to check to see if he were, in truth, a bit mad. He refused to feel ill at ease. So he showed the younger man as normal an appearance as he could muster, to prove he was, indeed, in control of his senses. He nodded to Aiden, who relaxed and leaned back into his saddle to await his orders.

  “Stay here,” Riorden commanded, and then kicked his horse forward ’til he came abreast of the woman sitting on the blanket in the sand. His horse reared as if spooked, and he watched the woman rapidly move in fear of being trampled beneath the heavy hooves. She tripped on the blanket she had been sitting on, but quickly regained her footing to stand afore him although ’twas done somewhat shakily. He got control over his steed and slid from the saddle, giving his mount’s neck a calming pat. It seemed placated as it now stood still as stone.

  Riorden removed his gauntlets and placed them on the saddle. To say that he was hesitant to come too close to this ghostly apparition, was an understatement. As he drew closer, Riorden tried to conceal his shock when he saw the woman had her oddly shaped hose rolled up, exposing her ankles. As he gazed at her feet peeking through the sand, he backed up, thinking perchance she was plagued with some sort of malady since her toes were oddly colored. Still, he could not take his eyes from her although, in truth, she was but a vague transparent vision and, mayhap, merely a figment of his imagination.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” she exclaimed in a hushed, excited tone, more to herself, he thought, than for his ears. “But, you’re dressed differently.”

  Riorden’s brow drew together in confusion. Looking down at his attire, he saw nothing out of the ordinary of how he had garbed himself for the past ten years. They were Dristan’s colors, true, but he saw no harm in wearing the garments ’til ordered otherwise by his king. His eyes widened in further disbelief. Although he had seen her mouth moving, her words were not spoken out loud. They came, instead, into his head. He scowled in frustration, thinking he appeared an imbecile. He understood nary of what was going on, but he cared naught for it at all!

  “Who are you,” he questioned irritably, “and what is it you want from me, ghost?”

  “Ghost? What are you talking about?” she replied. There was just a touch of annoyance in her stance to show she was as affected as he by what was happening to them. “You’re the ghost, not me.”

  A forced laugh burst from his lips, and Riorden placed his arms across his chest in an attempt to recover his senses. “’Tis just my luck, I come upon a spirit not of this world, and she does not know her place. Dristan would be most amused.” He looked back towards Aiden and Patrick and heard their nervous laughter. He must look the fool to be standing here alone, talking and laughing to himself.

  She cocked her head to one side as if assessing his worth. “Well, I don’t know who this Dristan is, but I assure you, I know where I come from and where I belong.”

  “Do you?” he harrumphed. “I think you must be a witch, so be gone and leave me in peace.”

  Riorden watched her face fall in sorrow. She appeared as though she was about to cry, if a ghost could possibly shed tears, that is.

  “You want me to go away?” she asked quietly, almost in disbelief he would ask such of her. Her lower lip quivered, surprising him that even a wraith could have tenderhearted feelings.

  “I do not know why you have appeared to me, but you must return to the afterworld and leave me be. I can only surmise by your strange garments and the way you expose yourself that you were a loose woman. I have no time to assist you with your unfinished business to save your immortal soul. I am here on important matters for the king.”

  There was a short catch in her breath. Was his mind playing tricks with him yet again, or did it appear as if she was attempting to memorize his features.

  “Even here, across the span of time, I finally find my knight, only to learn his armor has rusted solid, and he has no place for me in his heart.”

  “Do not upset yourself, damsel,” Riorden said, offering what limited amount of comfort he could, for he saw the anguish in her eyes from his words. It mattered not he was still distressed that he was observing this specter in front of him, let alone having a conversation with her. He did not like to cause any lady harm, be she ghost or of this world. ’Twas against his knightly vows to protect, against the code of chivalry he had lived his life by.

  She continued gazing upon his face ’til she reached out her hand to touch him. The gesture startled him, and instinctively, he jerked away. She gave him a sad sort of smile, afore she, too, stepped further back with an apparently irritated stomp of her foot. “Jesus Christ! I can’t believe this,” she swore.

  “My lady, I─”

  “Ugh!” She all but growled at him, and he was puzzled as to what had caused her outburst, let alone to take the Lord’s name in vain. Turning her back to him, she began muttering beneath her breath. She ran her hand through her tawny colored hair, afore she finally retu
rned her attention to him with a grim expression. Her aquamarine eyes leveled on his face, all but boring into his very soul. “I’ve dreamed of you my entire life, for God’s sake, and now that you’re here, you can barely stand the sight of me. I’m not some kind of freak, you know. You must be here for a reason, or didn’t you think of that? It’s not fair you can be right here in front of me and want nothing to do with me!”

  Bitterness dripped from her words, along with a touch of helplessness. Her eyes pleaded with him for some kind of understanding. Something about her made Riorden pause. He wanted to know what troubled her, and why she was lashing out at him. What in her life had made her laugh? What made her cry? Was it just his imagination, or was there some twinge of a memory of her in the far recesses of his mind that was just out of his reach and recollection? He could feel ’twas of much import, so how could he have stupidly forgotten such a grave matter as to remember her possibly being a part of his life?

  The odd sensation that she was significant to him lingered on the edges of what little he had left of his intelligence and the odd circumstances in which he found himself. The harder he tried to think of her and why he felt as if he should know her, the harder it became to keep a grasp on the reality that he was conversing with a ghost. God’s Wounds…get a grip, you fool!

  He shook his head at the fanciful notion that briefly crossed his mind. For a moment, he actually had thoughts of wanting to spend more time with her. He must put an end to such nonsense and any thoughts of what was not meant to be. Whatever was plaguing her, or even her reason for appearing to him, he was unable to do much for her other than to pray she would at last find comfort in her afterlife.