“Is there not more?” Erik asked. “It seems a short tale otherwise, with little evidence that Thomas truly visited the fairy realm, as you insisted it would prove.”
“I merely had to recall the words,” Vivienne lied, then raised her voice again. She tried to brace herself for Ruari’s response, for she expected he would laugh merrily at this verse.
“She said ‘Thomas, you like this play.
What lady could sate thee?
You would couple all this day,
I pray, Thomas, now let me be.’”
Ruari did indeed roar with laughter. Indeed, he laughed until the tears ran from his eyes, but Vivienne sang on, granting him no chance to make a bawdy comment.
“Thomas looked then with merry heart,
Upon that lady who was so gay;
But her hair hung dull about her face,
Her flesh had now turned to grey.
“Thomas cried out ‘Alas, alack!
This is a doleful sight!
Beauty has faded from your face,
That once shone as sun so bright.’
The lady stood, her manner dour,
‘Is this not as I foretold?
A price we both must pay for this
To your lust my beauty has been sold.’”
“And is that not oft the truth of it?” Ruari said then shook his head at the sad way of matters. “The fairest maid looks less fair after her conquest, upon that you can rely. Many a man has awakened after claiming a maiden whose merits left him blinded by lust, only to perceive her flaws the following morn.”
Vivienne fell silent, struck by the similarities between this tale and her own. She had thought Erik come from the realm of fairy and he had persuaded her to meet him abed. He had been curt the following morn. Had he been disappointed with the sight of her? Did he see flaws in her nature now, after her jest had gone so awry? Did her fears that she was not as composed as Madeline have any merit?
There was no denying the similarity between her agreement to accompany him for a year and a day and the wager that Thomas made with his fairy queen.
Feeling some disquietude, Vivienne sang.
“‘Now you must ride with me,’ she said;
True Thomas, you must come with me;
For you must serve me seven years,
through well or woe as chance to be.’
She mounted then her milk-white steed,
and took True Thomas up behind;
With every ring of her bridle,
Her horse ran faster than the wind.
It was a dark dark night, with no light;
they waded through red blood to the knee:
For all the blood that’s shed on earth;
Runs through the rivers of Fairy.
Then she led him to a fair arbor;
Where fruit grew in great plenty.
Pears and apples, ripe they were,
Dates, roses, figs and wineberry.
‘Dismount now, my Thomas True,
And lay your head upon my knee,
And you will see the fairest sight
That ever a man did see.’”
Ruari laughed. “Aye, there is a fine sight to be seen whenever a man rests his head upon a lady’s knee!”
Vivienne gasped, never having understood that interpretation of the tale. Erik’s hand curved around her waist as if in reassurance. “He is merry,” he whispered into her ear. “That is all I hoped of in the telling of your tale. Do not take his comments to heart. You must have noted already that he talks overmuch, and is happiest when talking.”
Vivienne turned to grant Erik a smile, and found encouragement in his steady gaze. He was smiling slightly himself, and the expression made him look less formidable.
“You should smile more often,” she bade him, then turned when he sobered in surprise. This was the part of the tale that she loved and she sang the fairy queen’s words with gusto.
“‘Oh do you see yon narrow road,
so thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness,
though after it but few enquires.
And do you see that broad broad road,
that lies across the little leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
though some call it the road to heaven.’”
“She grants good counsel, does this fairy queen,” Ruari declared. “One has no fear of encountering a crowd on the road to righteousness, to be certain.”
“‘And do you see that bonnie road,
which winds about the ferny slope?
That is the road to the Fairy court,
where you and I this night will go.
But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,
whatever you may hear or see;
For if a word you should chance to speak,
Never will you return to your own country.’
‘Whatsoever men say to you,
I pray you answer none but me.
I shall tell that I took a toll,
And I wrest your speech from thee.’
Thomas looked in that place,
And saw his lady once more gay.
She was again so faire and good,
Rich adorned on her palfrey.”
“And how might this be?” Ruari demanded. “Was it the return to her own abode that restored her beauty?”
“I asked the same and was told that there is another variant of the tale,” Vivienne explained. “And in that tale, the queen was wedded and her husband has cast a spell upon her that any infidelity would cost her beauty.”
“Ah, so he could tell the truth of it with a glance.” Ruari nodded. “There would be a useful spell for a mortal man with a beauteous wife,” he said, without explaining himself further. He cast a glance at Erik, who said nothing.
Vivienne did not understand Ruari’s import. If he spoke of some past marriage of his own, it would be rude for her to demand details, so she sang.
“She blew her horn, took the reins,
And to the castle they did ride.
Into the hall rightly she went;
Thomas followed at her side.
Harp and fiddle there they found,
The gittern and the psaltery;
The lute and rebec there did sound,
And all manner of minstrelsy.”
“Puts me in mind of a wedding, that does,” Ruari said with a sigh. “Your wedding was a merry celebration, lad, to be certain. I fairly danced holes in my shoes, the minstrels were so fine.”
Again, Erik made no reply, though Vivienne was certain she felt him straighten behind her. And why not? Erik yet mourned his wife, it was clear to any soul who paid attention to his manner whenever she was mentioned. Doubtless, he recalled that merry event himself and the sadness of losing his beloved bride afterward.
Indeed, Vivienne thought that Ruari showed a lack of tact in making such ready reference to Erik’s wedding. After all, he had to know that Erik mourned his lost wife deeply. It was unkind to remind Erik of happier days, to her thinking, though Ruari clearly uttered any words that rose to his lips. There was no harm in him, but he was not an overly discreet soul.
She sang lest he choose to say more.
“One morn, his lady spake to him;
‘Thomas, here you may no longer be.
Hasten yourself with might and main,
I shall take you to the Eildon Tree.’
Thomas said with heavy cheer,
‘Lovely lady, let me take ease,
For scarce have I savored this place;
Merely seven nights and days.’
‘Forsooth, Thomas, I tell you true:
You have danced seven years and more!
You must here no longer dwell;
I shall take you home therefore.’
She brought him to the Eildon Tree,
Underneath the green wood spray;
But Thomas did not wish her to part:
‘Grant me some token, lady gay.
’”
‘Harp or carp, Thomas, you choose...’”
“Harp or carp? What is this?” Ruari demanded.
“Surely you must know,” Erik said, his tone unexpectedly teasing. “You with such a fondness for tales.”
“Surely I do not! What choice does she grant him? A harp or a fish?”
Vivienne laughed. “He can choose the ability to play music or the ability to speak. He will excel at whichever he chooses.”
“Ah! A silver tongue or silver fingertips. Aye, it is true that fairies oft grant the gift of music, though never have I heard of them offering a gift for telling tales.” Ruari nodded. “Seems to me as those they choose to capture oft have that gift already and in plenty, if you understand my meaning.”
“Aye, I understand it well,” Erik said. “Perhaps you have such a belief in matters unseen because you too have been captured by the fairies.”
Ruari laughed at that prospect and Vivienne understood that neither man believed the veracity of her tale. She resolutely sang on, knowing that Thomas’ prophecies would change their conclusions.
“‘Harp or carp, Thomas, you choose,
You will have whiche’er you will to be.’
‘To carp choose I,’ said Thomas True.
‘For tongue is chief of minstrelsie.’
‘Then when you speak, from this day hence,
And tales you choose to tell,
You shall never loose a lie,
Whether you walk by wood or fell.’
‘My tongue is mine own,’ True Thomas cried;
‘A goodly gift you would give to me!
With it, neither I could buy or sell,
Not at fair or tryst could I be.’
‘I could not speak to prince or peer;
Nor ask of grace from fair ladies.’”
Ruari laughed heartily at Thomas’ protest, and Vivienne sang.
“‘Now, hold thy peace! the lady said;
‘For as I bid you, it must be.
Farewell, Thomas, without any guile;
You may no longer linger with me.’
‘Lovely lady, abide a while,
And some fair tale tell you to me.’
“Ah, and these would be her prophecies,” Erik said when Vivienne paused for breath.
“Indeed, they are,” Vivienne agreed. “She made many regarding the fate of Scotland, all of which have proven to be true.” She might have raised her voice again, but Erik halted her with a fingertip upon her shoulder.
“Then it is a good place to leave the tale until the morrow,” he said. He indicated the eastern sky and Vivienne noted with surprise that it was lightening. They had passed Haddington near the beginning of her song and now the dark profile of Edinburgh rose ahead of them. She had been so intent upon singing the tale that she had not noticed the miles slipping away.
“There is a gully to the south of the road here, well hidden from curious eyes,” Erik said, and she was struck again by his knowledge of this area. “I would halt there for the day and have you continue your tale this night.”
Ruari looked displeased at this prospect. “At least accept my counsel that we not all huddle together. We could be too readily surprised then, no less cornered.”
“There will not be pursuit, Ruari,” Erik said firmly. “The lady’s brother and I have agreed, after all.”
Ruari snorted. “Which would explain, of course, why that man placed a price upon your head in Kinfairlie market. I am unpersuaded of the merit of this agreement, lad, just as I am unpersuaded that the lady did not truly summon her family to us, but I shall follow your bidding, dutiful servant that I am. You might at least follow my lead in ensuring that we are not readily discovered.”
Erik inclined his head in agreement, and Ruari led them on a tortuous path far north of the copse Erik had indicated. He marched the horses through a stream, emerging from one side and the other repeatedly then traveling far downstream before letting the horses climb the banks again. Vivienne did not doubt that he chose the rocky bank deliberately. Even so, he brushed the ground behind them with a clutch of bracken, though Vivienne could see no evidence of their passing.
Finally, they circled back toward the gorse and Ruari pointed to a trio of haystacks, which must have been newly harvested. “I shall keep a vigil from there.” With nary a backward glance, he dismounted and led his horse away.
“He is vexed with you, despite my tale.”
“He worries overmuch,” Erik said mildly, then dismounted in his turn. “Though there is no doubting his loyalty.” He made to lift Vivienne down, but she lifted his hands away from her waist and slipped from the saddle herself.
“You are more sorely injured than you would admit,” she scolded quietly. The grass was thick and green here, and she could hear the trickle where the stream began. The trees clustered thickly around the bubbling water and Vivienne imagined that they would be well concealed in that shady haven.
She watched Erik lead the horse toward the verdant shadows and winced anew at his limp. She must ensure that he rested this day in truth - not pacing its duration as he tended to do - and she had suddenly a good idea of how that might be achieved.
She hastened after him and caught his sleeve in her fingertips. “Do you think it true, what Ruari said?”
“Which detail of what Ruari said do you mean? He says a great deal.” Erik removed the saddlebags as he spoke, then unfastened Fafnir’s saddle and lifted it to the ground. He cast the reins over the steed’s head and Fafnir bent to nibble at the thick grass.
Vivienne fetched the brush that he used upon the horse and handed it to him, ensuring that she granted him a caress in the transaction. “That it would be uncommon for a mortal man to mate seven times in quick succession, of course,” she said, feeling herself flush even as she made the suggestion. “It seems to me that that might be a good scheme for conceiving a son in haste.”
To her delight, a twinkle lit in Erik’s blue eyes and that elusive smile touched his lips. “It seems as much to you, does it?”
Vivienne’s cheeks heated further as she nodded.
“Then I can only offer my own best effort. No man of merit, after all, leaves a lady’s curiosity unsated.”
“It is not my curiosity I would have you sate!” Vivienne said mischievously and was rewarded by his fleeting grin.
Then Erik laid a finger across her lips. “I would never say as much, though it might well be true.”
Vivienne had no chance to reply for he quickly replaced the warmth of his fingertip with the heat of his kiss, and truly, she had no complaint with that.
* * *
Chapter Eight
Vivienne awakened at the sound of a barking dog. It was not simply the bark of a local peasant’s dog, for numerous dogs barked in unison and with some anxiety. There were hounds on the hunt, Vivienne realized when she heard the thunder of horses’ hoof beats along with the dogs’ baying.
Who would hunt so close to Edinburgh?
She spared a glance to the darkening sky and nestled into Erik’s embrace once more, reluctant as she was to move. He moved away, to her surprise, his gestures brusque.
“Rise,” he bade her. Vivienne might have protested but he turned upon her, his eyes blazing blue. “Immediately!”
Fearful whatever he anticipated, Vivienne found her boots. She managed to don only one before the bush around them began to snap with vigor. The hounds barked closer at hand, hunting birds cried overhead.
She glanced up in fear. The pair of them were surrounded by snarling dogs and stamping horses. A good dozen knights stood with their swords drawn and directed at Erik and Vivienne, their visors closed.
She and Erik were the prey they hunted. The men’s gleaming armor and bright swords revealed that they expected a battle.
Vivienne’s heart pounded so hard that she thought it might leap from her chest. Erik eased her behind him, pulling his sword as he did so. With his other hand, he slipped something cold into her belt.
It was his father’s blade. She felt the cool stone in the hilt and knew it to be so.
But why?
Vivienne was confused, though she pulled her cloak closed so that the weapon could not be seen. She dared to don her other boot. Did Erik expect her to fight by his side? Did he know these men? What had he done when last he had passed this way?
“Leave the lady be and I will not fight your capture of me,” Erik said, his voice ringing with authority. “There is no reason for her to be harmed.”
He stood proudly then, his blade raised as he confronted the party. He was sorely outnumbered and Vivienne yearned to aid him, but knew she should keep his blade hidden until she could surprise an assailant.
The men’s horses, which had obviously run hard, exhaled clouds into the late afternoon shadows. One blade then gleamed as the man bearing it urged his horse closer.
A terrified Vivienne followed the gleaming length of the sword to the man who wielded it. He pushed back his visor, his expression harsh but his features familiar.
“Alexander!” Vivienne was so filled with relief that her knees weakened. Whatever fate Erik had feared had not come to pass.
Her brother, though, neither shared her pleasure nor acknowledged her words. Erik did not ease his stance and the air fairly crackled between them.
‘Twas then that Vivienne recalled that Alexander had put a price upon Erik’s head.
“She has doubtless been harmed already!” Alexander said to Erik, his anger clear. “You broke your pledge to me, Nicholas Sinclair, and I will see my sister avenged.”
Vivienne blinked in confusion before she remembered that Alexander thought Erik to be his brother, Nicholas. Clearly there were many misunderstandings to be resolved! She stepped forward and raised a finger to explain the truth to all involved, for surely that was the best way to diffuse the tension.
Erik shoved her behind him with such vigor that she nearly tripped on her hem. “And you will have to hew me down to reclaim your sister, unless you pledge her safety.”
The Rose Red Bride JK2 Page 14