Again, she sighed. “I was so relieved!”
“I also know I was a fool for ever doubting you.”
“Doubting…” Her eyes lit up. “You saw the ghost?”
“I did, though if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes—”
“But you did see it. I’m so glad! And now we know who stood beside the bed the other night.”
He nodded. “She almost kissed me.”
Constance frowned. “I don’t understand where she came from, but…do you think she represented my hidden longings?”
He tightened his arms around her. “You longed for me, did you?”
Grinning, she slid a finger over his lower lip. “I did…well before I grasped how those longings might be fulfilled.”
His lip tingled. Not to be outdone, his manhood reminded him of the power she wielded over every inch of his flesh. No. Not here. We’re in a church. And I must tell her all.
He kissed the tip of her finger. “Constance, on my way hither, all I could think was…” The echo of recent dread constricted his throat.
“Go on.”
He swallowed hard. “I feared what the archdeacon might do to you. And you can guess the dark turns my imagination took.”
Her amber eyes glistened with compassion. “I believe I can.” She ran her fingers through his hair.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I did something I haven’t done for a long time. I prayed.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“I prayed for your protection. I don’t know whom or what I asked for help, but I did ask.”
“And help came, in the guise of me and then you.”
“It did indeed.” He stepped back and slid his hands down her arms to clasp her hands. “Now, I’m not saying I fully believe, or that I’ll want to hear mass. But I am open to possibilities.”
She beamed up at him. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.” He returned her smile. “Come. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ensconced in the solar, Constance stood beside Robert, gazing at the yew tapestry. “…and while I stared up at it, a chill came over me. Suddenly, I knew I had to go to the yew tree in the garden.”
“The one right by the keep?”
She nodded. “Once there, I saw the ghost, though not her face. She indicated that I should dig in front of the tree, and then she vanished.”
Turning to her, Robert arched an eyebrow. “Did you dig there?”
“I did, and I found a silver box filled with treasure.”
“What?! Where is it now?”
“Back in the ground whence it came. Meg helped me bury it.”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “Meg? What has she to do with it?”
“She’s the one who buried it in the first place, and she bade me rebury it and keep her secret.”
“But why encourage you to dig it up in the first place? What was the ghost after?”
Constance shrugged. “I think she wanted me to see a symbol on a small embroidery Meg’s mother made. It was among the treasure.”
“For what purpose?”
“To give me hope and remind me that my past wasn’t my future.”
Robert grinned, and the look in his eyes made her heart flutter. “It most certainly isn’t.” He took her hands in his. “Your future is interwoven with mine, and I’ll do all I can to make it as lovely as you.”
Heat crept into her cheeks. “You’re making me blush.”
His dimples deepened. “I know, and it becomes you. Thank you for telling me your secret.” All at once, he sobered and released her hands. “I’m afraid I’ve kept one, too. When I met you that day in Newcastle, I recognized you.”
“What? Where had you seen me before?”
“In a dream.”
Her eyes widened. “A dream?”
He nodded. “In the Holy Land. The same night I lost my faith. And you were wearing gray, just like the figure we saw in the church today. I saw in your eyes the harmony I lacked. There was such peace in your countenance, and in your arms.”
“My arms?”
“We shared a brief embrace, but then the dream ended. Yet I’ve never forgotten it, and I woke a better man than when I went to sleep. That dream went a long way toward healing me.”
The memory of her first vision at the pond seized her. “I think I saw that moment…that dream…at the pond.”
He frowned. “Another vision?”
“Aye. But I don’t understand. How could I see inside your dream?”
“What’s the prize for the right answer?” Meg’s head popped around the arched doorway.
“Meg!” Constance smiled.
Robert scratched his head. “How long have you been hiding there?”
Meg shuffled into the solar. “I wouldn’t say I was hiding, but I was listening.” With a grin, she motioned toward the high-backed chairs before the sleeping hearth. “If you two will take a seat, I’ll give you some answers. I trow you’re ready to hear them.”
“More than ready.” Robert crossed to the stools against the wall and lifted one. “You and Constance take the chairs.”
Once Meg had seated herself, Constance settled onto the other cushioned chair. Robert set the stool beside his wife and sat down.
Folding her hands, Constance regarded Meg. “So, how did I see his dream?”
“’Twasn’t a dream.” Meg’s tone was straightforward. “You were there. That is, a part of you was.”
“My twin in gray.”
“Precisely.”
Constance slapped her thighs. “I knew we were connected the instant I saw her face. But why was a part of me…apart from me?”
“In moments of great trauma, as when the archdeacon attacked you in York—”
“You know about that?”
Meg nodded. “Such moments can tear the soul. A part of it breaks away. In your case, because you couldn’t bear what was happening.”
Constance gasped. “And I wore gray that day, the same tunic my other self appeared in. At last I understand! The feeling—the certainty—that I lost something…I did lose it! I assumed ’twas my virginity, but in sooth, ’twas part of my spirit.”
“And no less a part of your innocence.”
“Meg,” said Robert, “how could she be in one place, while another part roamed elsewhere?”
“The soul can be in many places at once.”
“And you know that how?”
“From experience.” Meg touched her cheeks. “You need only observe my wrinkles to glean just how much I’ve had.”
Constance gave her a sidewise look. “But how did you know about Dominy’s attack on me?”
“Your other self…let’s call her your shadow…she showed me that event, and then she showed me you in the garden, digging up the box. She knew I could explain the wisdom of the triquetra, so she made sure I was there to do it.”
“Did she show you those things in a dream?”
“Not quite, though some would call it a dream. But I’ll tell you a secret: when people sleep, their spirits often leave their bodies. Most have no memory of it, but I remember when it happens to me. ’Tis my gift. And when a spirit—or even a part of it—is thus freed, it can travel anywhere and anywhen it wants. Time and distance as you know them are an illusion. Your shadow even appeared to me the night I first buried the box, years and years ago. That’s how she knew ’twas there to begin with.”
Constance snapped her fingers. “That’s what you meant at Ravenwood when you said you were pleased to meet me at last!”
Meg glanced toward the fireplace and shifted in the chair. “Partly.”
Constance’s mind spun. She shook her head. “So my shadow has been here, there, and everywhere. Perhaps even Ravenwood, the day of our wedding.”
“And long before that, she was drawn to Robert in the Holy Land.”
Robert leaned forward. “Why?”
Meg’s violet eyes sparkled as she focused the
m on him. “There are legends of wish-maidens who travel unseen on the wind and watch over warriors in danger. The maiden offers wisdom, love, and protection, and tradition holds that whenever a knight wishes for her, she is with him.
“But your wife’s shadow would’ve found you whether you wished for her or no. You were her future. She felt your pain and flew to your side to ease it. And though you thought you were dreaming, you had left your body to greet her.” Meg looked at Constance. “You saw that night through her eyes—your eyes, really—in the waters of Woden’s Pond.”
Constance nodded slowly. “And after that night, she came hither to wait for him, and for me.”
“Aye,” Meg said, sitting forward. “She sought out parts of herself, people and places aligned with her past, present, and future. You. Robert. Druid’s Head. She was seeking wholeness, as were you.”
Constance smiled. “And today, we found it.”
Robert reached for her hand, infusing her with his warmth. “Your reunion healed me, too. Don’t ask me how or why, but it did.”
Meg tilted her head to the side. “’Tis only natural. You’re part of each other. Husband and wife.” She chuckled. “Besides, you were meant for each other. I always knew it.”
Constance studied the older woman’s face. “How?”
Leaning back in her chair, Meg regarded them with a sly grin. “That’s a story for another time.”
****
After supper, Robert stole his wife away for a private amble outdoors. Hand in hand, they strolled beneath the Mirror Oaks and around Woden’s Pond. He breathed deeply of the early evening air and savored the moment. The beauty of spring. The rustle of tree and bush. The serenity emanating from the water. Constance’s gentle hold on his hand. His full belly. The lingering taste of spiced wine on his tongue.
Ah, the simple pleasures! His heart swelled with gratitude as they paused on the bridge.
He squeezed her hand. “You know, I picked a posy of bluebells for you this morning.”
She looked up at him. “You did?”
“I wanted to surprise you. Then, of course, other surprises took precedence.”
“Where are the flowers now?”
He shrugged. “My guess is, trampled in the dirt of the bailey.”
“’Twas a lovely gesture, though.”
“Oh, I am nothing if not lovely.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Incorrigible, too.” Her gaze slipped to the water. “Speaking of lovely, look.”
He followed her gaze. Side by side, two swans glided along the glassy surface.
The sight gifted him with a sweeping sense of contentment. “They’ve mated. For life.”
“As have we. It puts me in mind of a dream I had our first night here.”
“Oh?” He turned back to her.
“It concerned the swan tapestry in our bedchamber.”
He raised his eyebrows. The tapestry spurred my dreams as well. That same night.
“I entered the tapestry and became the swan. Then I spotted you standing on the shore and swam toward you. As I left the water, I changed back into myself. And then we kissed.”
“I had the same dream!”
Amusement danced in her eyes. “You were a swan that turned into a woman?”
He chortled. “Indeed not! But I stood on that shore and witnessed your transformation.”
“And the kiss?”
“I woke just before it happened.”
She placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a sympathetic look. “Aww…my poor Robert.” Abruptly, her hand dropped. “While I’m thinking of it…are there two swans in the tapestry or one?”
“Two.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. Why?”
Her alabaster brow creased. “I could’ve sworn there was one…until this morning.”
“Curious.” His memory stirred. “My brother had a similar experience with a tapestry in his solar. ’Tis also the handiwork of Lady Ravenwood’s grandmother. There are two ravens in the image, but he saw only one. Until he accepted his wife’s love. Meg told him that when he looked into the tapestry, it also looked into him, that its magic mingled with his innermost thoughts. I’m beginning to see what she meant.”
“Remarkable. Do you think we were dreaming that night? Or did our spirits leave our bodies, as Meg said they could?”
“Who knows? ’Tis an intriguing notion.”
Constance nodded. “Her talk of wish-maidens intrigued me, too. To think that a part of my soul traveled all the way to the Holy Land to find you.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “Did you wish for me?”
“Perhaps I did, and you heard me and whisked to my side. And when I woke, I wished you were real.”
“And then we found each other in Newcastle.” She smiled. “That sounds like divine providence to me. Do you doubt it still?”
He sighed. “So much has happened. I don’t know what to think. But give me time. I’ll figure it out.”
“Take all the time you need. You were patience itself with me, and I can offer you no less.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I want to thank you, Robert. You gave me hope, and a home. No one could’ve been more kind and gentle. You helped me accept my body and all I can experience with it.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and took her hands in his. “And you reminded me of my soul. It shall be forever in your care.”
She blinked back her tears. “I love you, Robert. More than you’ll ever know.”
His heart had wings. His life was complete. “I do know it, for I love you.”
A sound that was half-sob, half-guffaw burst from her lips. “Forgive me. You do?”
“I do. My dear, sweet Constance.”
She must know his love. Feel it. Never doubt its vigor.
He pulled her to him and captured her lips in a kiss that plumbed the depth of his devotion. Nothing on earth mattered but her mouth, her body, her soul bound to his.
Whoop-whoop! Whoop-whoop!
The sound demanded his attention. He turned his head to look, and Constance’s lips grazed his cheek. In the water below, the pair of swans regarded them.
He gave them a questioning look. “What? Cannot two lovers kiss? Or do you give us your blessing?”
Constance giggled. “I think they approve.”
“How could they not approve of a handsome knight and his lady fair?”
She gave him a wry look. “So you’re handsome, are you?”
He assumed the guise of self-doubt. “Aren’t I?”
“You know you are!”
Whoop-whoop! Whoop-whoop!
The swans carried on, swimming under the bridge toward the smaller end of the pond.
Constance watched them for a moment, then turned to him. “Robert, when did you start to love me? Not my shadow in the Holy Land, but the greater part of me, once we met.”
He stared at the nearest shrub and consulted his memories. “I’d have to say that day in the orchard. When I offered to marry you.”
“So soon?”
“You call that soon? What about you? And prithee, don’t say this evening!”
Her musical laughter filled his senses. “’Twas far earlier than that. In truth, our first night here. Your stomach growled while you slept, and—”
“My stomach?”
Again, she laughed. “I know it sounds absurd. Perhaps ’twas your vulnerability. Or your boundless hunger. But something about that moment endeared you to me.” She released a long sigh. “I’ve never been so happy. I feel I finally belong. Here at Druid’s Head. With you.”
He tightened his arms around her. “You do belong. You always have.” He echoed her sigh. “How splendid to have a home! And an angel to share it with.”
“You called me an angel the first time we stood here together. Remember?”
“I do, now that you mention it.”
“Once again, I must contradict you. Would an angel crave your touch?”
He grinned. �
�She might.”
“Would she surrender to pleasure again and again on a certain bed of bluebells?”
His ardor rose. “Let’s find out!”
He swooped her into his arms and carried her across the bridge. Toward that enchanted patch of forest and their future.
A word about the author…
Judith Sterling’s love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Flight of the Raven, Soul of the Wolf, and Shadow of the Swan are part of her medieval romance series, The Novels of Ravenwood.
The Cauldron Stirred is the first book in her YA paranormal fantasy series, Guardians of Erin.
Written under Judith Marshall, her nonfiction books—My Conversations with Angels and Past Lives, Present Stories—have been translated into multiple languages.
She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies.
Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.
http://judithmarshallauthor.com
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