The Quest for Gillian’s Heart

by The Quest for Gillian’s Heart (lit)

  She patted the blanket beside her. "Sit with me awhile."

  Andor was tired of visiting. There was only one person whose company he sought.

  "‘Tis late," he told her. "The games begin tomorrow and I wish to participate. ‘Tis time I went to bed. You should also. The day has been long." Without another word, he left her to seek out Gillian.

  He was disappointed to find her asleep, yet nothing would induce him to wake her. Without bothering to undress, he lay down beside her. By habit he started to curl his body around hers. He caught himself before he could. The last thing they needed was a repeat of the night before. A gradual redevelopment of the closeness they once shared was what was best. With a sigh he rolled his back to hers.

  More pain. Gillian curled into a tight ball and lay there longing for his arms about her. Telling herself she would have to get used to long, lonely nights alone only served to make this particular night drag on interminably.

  Gillian remembered the times when her mother would say, "I’m feelin’ my age today." This morning she knew what that meant - she felt double her age. Sometime before dawn she was finally able to sleep, but that pitiful bit of rest was little help. Her muscles ached as she sat up, and her head felt too heavy for her shoulders. She wondered if her eyes were as puffy as they felt. They also burned. She was glad Andor wasn’t there to see her.

  Judging from the amount of activity she could hear going on outside, it was much later than she normally slept. Andor had probably been up for quite some time. It was kind of him to let her sleep, and she made a mental note to thank him later. Just because they were ending their marriage there was no reason why they could not remain civil toward each other.

  After changing her tunic, Gillian combed the tangles from her hair. There was really no need to hurry. Freyda would have fixed a breakfast long ago, and she was far from hungry.

  She heard a cheer off in the distance. Their games had begun. Gillian wasn’t exactly sure what they entailed - some show of strength from what Freyda had told her. It would be something interesting to watch while she worked on her spinning.

  With all the work to do around the house, she had been putting it off lately. It was one of the things she and Freyda had hoped to catch up on while they were here. She pulled the sack of wool from where it was stuffed in the corner of their tent. Her distaff lay beside it. With sack and pole tucked under her arm, she expelled a weary breath and walked outside.

  Except for Freyda, their campsite was deserted. The other woman smiled and offered her the cup she’d just poured.

  "Mint tea. ‘Twill help wash the sleep from your mouth and wake you up a bit."

  Gillian accepted and sat on a log across from her.

  Freyda motioned to the wool. "A good idea. I will have to get mine before we go on to watch the games. You did wish to see them, did you not?"

  "Aye."

  "I thought as much. ‘Twas why I lingered here so that we might go on together." With a laugh, she jerked her thumb toward the gathering. "I did not think you would sleep much longer once all that shouting began."

  "They do sound like they are having a good time." Gillian took a sip of tea and felt the refreshing liquid slip down her throat. "‘Tis good."

  "Rollo got a batch of mint from one of the vendors yesterday. We should be able to plant some of it, too. I have wrapped the fresher sprigs in wet dirt and tied a cloth around them. ‘Twill be a nice year-round treat if we can get it to grow."

  Gillian nodded. It was something else she had to think about - planting a garden. This late in the season she couldn’t expect much to grow before winter. All Andor’s crops and the vegetable and herb garden she and Freyda planted near the house had a two-month advantage. Again, she’d have to rely on Andor’s charity. How much more of her pride was she going to have to swallow?

  "Andor was most concerned for you this morning," Freyda said. "He said you should rest. Seeing you now, I would have to agree with him. Perhaps you should lie down."

  Gillian shook her head. "This tea does wonders. Another cup and I should be ready to start what remains of the day." She poured herself another cup.

  "Do you not care for something to eat?"

  "I am not all that hungry."

  Freyda cocked her head to one side. "And you ate naught last eve or the day before. Has an illness taken you?"

  Only of the heart.

  "Or is grief weighing you down?"

  Gillian stared into her cup.

  "I can only imagine at how you feel. If anything happened to Erik...." She let the sentence die and squeezed her eyes shut. After a few minutes she opened them again. "But you have to keep on. Now please try to eat a little."

  Gillian set her empty cup aside. "I promise you I will later. Now let’s get on to these games you have been telling me about before I miss those also."

  "Little chance of that. They go on ‘til the Thing ends next week."

  They gathered their spinning and went to join their group. As they walked, they wrapped wool around one end of the distaffs and onto their spindles. Then they held the pole in the crook of their left arms and set the spindle spinning with their right. Once the wool was drawn out to a thread, they wound it up and started again.

  It was a necessary task easily accomplished as they strolled past the few tradesmen who displayed their wares. Gillian was almost able to forget her problems as she spun and looked at the variety of things offered: herbs and spices, boxes and baskets, and other trinkets. She found herself wishing she had brought money or something to trade in return for some herbs and said so to Freyda.

  "Tell Andor. He will see you have it," she replied.

  That was something Gillian would not do. She was going to have to depend on Andor for too many favors as it was. She certainly wasn’t going to start using them for things she considered luxury items. Her apathy returned.

  "There he is now." Freyda waved to her brother.

  Andor was several yards away, but Gillian’s heart was still caught up in the smile he gave them as he hurried their way.

  "I was just coming to see if you ladies were on your way." He dropped a welcoming kiss on Gillian’s cheek. "Thora has a meal waiting for us all under the tree yonder. ‘Tis her way of giving us her thanks. You must join us."

  "In a moment," Freyda said. "Gillian has some herbs and spices she wishes you to buy for her."

  Andor’s interest turned to the vendor beside them. Already he was reaching for his purse. If it would make her happy, he would buy all the man had.

  "Which ones?" he asked her.

  There was no way now Gillian could refuse without causing a scene, so she made frugal choices. Some rosemary and sage, a dozen bay leaves, nutmeg, cinnamon sticks, and vanilla pods. The vendor wrapped each individually then put them in a pouch which Gillian tied to the end of her chains.

  "Thank you," she said to Andor.

  "‘Twas my pleasure," he replied, wishing it could have been hers, too. She seemed more depressed than ever. He longed to wipe away the dark circles from under her eyes. Time, he reminded himself. Until then, whatever she desired he would see she had.

  "We are gathered in the shade of that tree over there. We can watch the stallion fights while we eat." He rested his hand on Gillian’s back and led the women to where their people already sat eating.

  At that point Gillian preferred starvation to any food cooked by Thora’s hands. And, if pressed to do so, she would have no trouble being rude about it.

  Thora greeted them like she was royalty. Smiling as she was, Gillian could clearly see the beautiful girl Andor had fallen in love with. It was hard to believe that only the day before Thora’s whole demeanor suggested she feared all about her. Of course, living with Leif, Gillian could understand that behavior. What amazed her though was the rapid transformation once her circumstances had been changed.

  "Come. Sit. I have everything ready." She beckoned the three of them to a place beside her on the blanket, making sure she put hers
elf next to Andor.

  "‘Tis not much," she told them. "Cold roast chicken, bread, cheese, and wine from home, but ‘tis enough to celebrate."

  She piled a bowl high and handed it to Andor, clearly usurping Gillian’s right as his wife to see to him. Gillian ground her teeth at the annoyance. As an afterthought, Thora looked her way.

  "Please, help yourself."

  "I have no appetite these days," Gillian replied. "And I especially have no cause to celebrate. I lost my baby only a week past."

  Thora’s dark gaze pierced Gillian’s. "You may have forgotten that I am quite familiar with the pain of losing a child. I am eternally grateful to the gods...and to Andor," she gave him her most endearing smile, "that the man responsible has been taken care of. That is cause for celebration."

  Gillian curved one eyebrow. "And is that all you celebrate?" Her meaning was all too clear to Thora. Gillian could see that in the other woman’s eyes. Yet Thora’s reply was innocence personified.

  "What more could there be? Eat, everyone. The stallion fights should be starting soon."

  Even as she spoke, two stallions were being led to the circular enclosure. One was the color of coal while the other was so black it was blue. Each was fairly docile until it saw the other, then they strained against the bridles. Gillian listened to a few of the men making wagers. Andor did not, although he was intent on the animals before them.

  "Why do you not wager?" she asked.

  "Both are fine animals," he said, without taking his gaze off the horses. "‘Twould be difficult at this point to choose a victor. And," he fastened his gaze on hers, "I have come by my fortune through years of hard work. I have no desire to lose any of what I have just for the sake of a whim."

  Was that a reprimand or a reassurance? Gillian couldn’t be sure, but in those moments that their eyes locked, she wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him not to leave her.

  "Let them go," Egil shouted from nearby.

  Andor and Gillian looked back in time to see the handlers unhook the bridles and the horses run to confront each other. It was the last thing Gillian saw before a veil of unshed tears obscured her vision. Unable to blink them away, and unwilling to make a spectacle of herself, she scrambled to her feet and darted away.

  Andor hurried after her, catching her gently by the arm before she could get too far away.

  "Gillian, love, what is it?"

  "Please, leave me be for a bit. I have need to be alone," she said, trying to keep him from seeing her face.

  Andor crooked his index finger under her chin and pulled it up. "More tears? It kills me each time I see you cry, for I know there is nothing I can do to ease the pain in your heart. Would you like to return home?"

  Gillian shook her head. It would be the height of insult for Andor to leave the Thing. Freyda had told her it was not uncommon for men to be penalized for such acts. Gillian would want no ill-fortune to befall Andor, especially when her welfare depended on his success in the community.

  "I just need a little time to myself. A short walk alone. Time to think. Please."

  "I will go with you," he said.

  "Alone...please."

  Andor dropped his hand to her shoulders and sighed. "If that is your wish."

  "Thank you." She turned and walked away, spinning wool as she did so.

  It was one of the hardest acts Andor had ever had to endure - to watch her walk away when he longed to be at her side. His duty was to care and protect her, not let her wander the woods alone.

  Andor waited a short while, then motioned to Seamus. The Irishman hurried over.

  "Follow my wife, but do not let her know you are doing so. She wishes time alone with her thoughts, and I have agreed to give her this, but I want you to make sure she is well. Can do you that?"

  "Quiet as a mouse, I’ll be," he assured.

  "‘Tis all I ask."

  Behind him he heard Freyda tsk. "She needs you, not Seamus."

  "She asked for solitude. I am giving it to her the only way I can." Even if it kills me to do so.

  This was truly what I needed.

  Gillian strolled a well-worn path through the trees. Even though she could still hear the shouts of the crowd in the valley below and the horses’ whinnies, she felt calmer. Her tears had even stopped. Here she could pause for awhile, uninterrupted by people and things she could not deal with for the time being, and make a few plans for her future.

  She found a small clearing ahead and selected a tree to lean against. Comforted by God’s natural embrace, her mother would have said.

  It was true. For the first time since Gwynneth’s death, she felt a peace surround her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the forest.

  "Well, now, this was easier than I thought."

  Gillian’s eyes flashed open. In a semi-circle before were four of her countrymen Leif had taken as slaves. The burliest, Shane, stepped forward.

  "What is it you want?" she demanded to know.

  "All high and mighty now, aren’t we?" Shane said. "But then ya always were. Well, ya won’t be fer long. Yer coming with us."

  "I’d be thinkin’ twice about that if I were you," Seamus said from behind the men.

  They parted to look at him. He stood there, sword drawn, ready to fight. Gillian could see the futility of the situation. Even the smallest of the four men outweighed Seamus by forty pounds.

  "Another one who puts himself high above others," Shane said with a snicker.

  "Leave her be and we’ll be on our way," Seamus said.

  The men laughed, and Shane hauled Gillian up by the arm.

  "Now’s yer chance to put yerself back where ya belong," he told Seamus. "Ya might think ya have freedom fer yerself, but all ya are is a slave like us. What have ya got? Come with us and we’ll be back in Ireland before ya know it. All we have to do is deliver her and we’re on our way."

  "How do ya figure that?" Seamus asked.

  "We’ve been promised our freedom and safe passage back. All we have to do is take her to Leif," he replied.

  "Ya would sell out one of yer own?" Seamus asked.

  Shane laughed and shook Gillian’s arm. "This? One of our own? After she made poor Evan’s life a living hell?"

  "‘Twas Evan who made my life hell," Gillian snapped. "The drunken sot never knew a decent day’s work. You ought to know, since you were such close friends. You want to go home, do you now? To what? A barrel of ale? You think the village mourns the loss of a bunch of drunkards the likes of you."

  Shane clamped a hand over her mouth. "See what I mean? What man could bear a harpy such as this? The Gaill did poor Evan a favor when he killed him. Now all we have to do is pass her on. Are ya with us or agin us?"

  Seamus raised his sword in angry defiance, but he was no fighter. As he focused his attention on Shane and the conversation, the other three had circled behind him. Before Gillian could squeeze out a muffled warning, one of them struck him in the back of a head with a rock. Seamus crumpled to the grass.

  Gillian wrenched away from her captor. "Brutes! Fools! How dare you hurt such a decent man?"

  "I’m not the fool Evan was, woman," Shane told her. "I’ll not put up with yer sharp tongue during our little ride." He pulled a kerchief out of his trousers pocket. "Now, be a good little lass and open yer mouth."

  She spun around and sprinted away. Shane lunged after her, catching her by the legs. Gillian fell with an "oof" and gasped for breath. Shane shoved the rag in her mouth, and bound her arms behind her back.

  "If ya want to play rough, we’ll be happy to oblige ya." He hauled her to her feet, tossed her over his shoulder, and marched to the horses waiting beyond the clearing. With a hearty chuckle he plopped her face down on his mount, climbed up behind her, and galloped away.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  Andor stared at the forest path long after Gillian and Seamus had disappeared into the trees. It tore against his better judgment to keep from following. Instead of drawi
ng closer to him in this time of tragedy, Gillian was moving farther away with each passing minute. He was at a loss to understand why, but knew tagging behind her, no matter how discreetly he could manage, would not solve the problem. If she spied Seamus, Andor hoped she would understand the necessity of having someone nearby for protection. Surely she would not be so unreasonable.

  "More problems?" Rollo asked as he came up beside him.

  "When are there not?" Andor quietly replied. "She becomes more distant each day. She is so sad...so very sad. I thought the hearing would make her feel good that justice was in our favor. But she cries more now than ever."

  "‘Tis normal for her to grieve the child."

  "That I know." Andor felt himself choking up and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I miss her, too...very much."

  "Perhaps another child will make the difference."

  "She wants no more. Right now I understand that feeling all too well. The fear of losing a child is too fresh in both our minds."

  Rollo patted his back. "‘Twill be better with time. Leave Gillian to her walk. Seamus will guard her well. Come back and watch the games. ‘Twill help to pass the time ‘til she returns."

  Andor returned to the activities with Rollo, but his heart and mind could not get involved. He watched with no interest as the stallion fights gave way to boulder lifting, wrestling, races, and spear throwing. Even when one of his own men did well, he had no cheer to add to the crowd around him. Any congratulations were given with such lack-luster countenance that Andor ceased giving any at all until he could do so in a manner which would honor the man, not depress him. He left it to Rollo to explain his preoccupation.

  As the day lengthened, Andor let his gaze wander back to the forest path. Anxiety drifted around him like a cold fog. Gillian and Seamus should have been back by now. He wondered if Gillian’s wanderings could have gotten them lost in the trees. The forest wasn’t all that large, but it was possible for someone to trap themselves on a circular route.

  He glanced at the sun, now a fiery ball sitting on the horizon. It had been midday when they left. Much too long for a walk. Seamus would have never run the risk of being out past dark. Even if it meant he had to break his word to Andor, Seamus would have seen Gillian back safely before dark.