The Quest for Gillian’s Heart

by The Quest for Gillian’s Heart (lit)

  "That would not be the first time a man has caused his woman to wonder," Sven said. "Tove, if you wish, Björn and I will see you safely home."

  "My men will do so." Kneeling beside Gillian, she caressed her tangled red hair then cupped her cheek. "Illness has taken its toll, but I can still see you are as lovely as Hildy...and Andor say. I am sorry for his behavior this evening. I had thought he had enough ale in him to keep him out ‘til morn. If I had known different, I would have kept him with me this night no matter how bad that would have appeared." She sighed and dropped her hand.

  "He came to me tonight because his heart and his pride were wounded over the loss of this child."

  Gillian shook her head. "I did not...."

  Tove placed her fingers on Gillian’s lips. "I know and in the morning he will know. I just wanted to tell you why he appeared at my house. ‘Tis a bond of friendship only. Be patient with him. His love for you is great."

  "He has an odd way of displaying it."

  "That he does...I should be going...Fjola, send Hildy ‘round in the morning and I will have a few loaves of carrot bread for your family." She smiled down at Gillian. "A treat to help you put some weight back on. I shall see you again before you leave."

  Gillian watched her cloak as she left. It drifted behind her like a dense fog, adding an aura of magic to the extraordinary woman she had just met.

  "Bolt the door," Fjola told Hildy. "I will not have Andor bursting in like a madman later this evening."

  Neither did Gillian. She’d had her emotions wrenched enough to last a lifetime. She concentrated on freshening herself and getting back to a clean bed. It was the moment she was left alone that the nightmares began.

  Sleep did not accompany them. They were the real horror of the words and accusations Andor had flung at her. How could he have had such little faith in her? A misunderstanding easily put to rights when she saw him again. Should she even try? He had made his own assumptions in the blink of an eye with no regard for what she would have to say. By what right did he deserve another chance from her? A word from her to Sven or Björn and she was sure to be seen safely back to her village.

  Gillian buried her face in the goose down pillow. It was her heart which held her captive now. Morning would make the difference and all would be on its way to being well again. She held on to that hope all through the night, rehearsing the scene over and over as she wished it to unfold.

  Cowardice found her at dawn. What if he didn’t believe her? She postponed the meeting even after she heard the rest of the family milling about. Finally, she had no choice but to go, before one of the women came back to check on her.

  Expecting Andor to leap out at her, Gillian held her breath as she pushed the door open. He was not there. She glanced toward the hearth. Not there either. Only the women. Hildy sat between Fjola and Asa. They were crying. Andor! Something had happened to Andor!

  They looked up as she hurried toward them. Before she could ask what was wrong, the door swung open and Andor walked in. Despite the sour look on his face, Gillian breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Why are you crying?" he asked, his tone demanding.

  "Tove is dead," Fjola replied. "Hildy found her this morning. Your father and Björn are there now. ‘Twas poison...hemlock, the physician said."

  Andor sucked in a slow breath, then exhaled in a single word. "Wench!"

  He came at her so quickly all Gillian could do was shrink away.

  "How could you? Out of spite? Jealousy? What?" He reached into the box of kindling wood and pulled out a switch. "A good beating is what you need! Then you can go to the crowd! I should have let Leif have you in the first place!"

  With fearful eyes, Gillian watched him pull back to strike her. As he followed through with his intent, her fear turned to outrage. Before the first blow could hit her, Gillian intercepted the switch. Her hand stung, but she had taken Andor by surprise. He loosened his hold long enough for her to snatch it away.

  "You blithering fool!" She lashed out with her weapon.

  Andor tried to dodge her, but he wasn’t counting on her fury. Like a woman gone mad she struck him again and again anywhere she could find a target.

  "Stop it, woman!"

  "I will not stop! You are an idiot! A fool! How can you think such things of me? How? How? How?"

  Each word was punctuated with a blow as tears of anger and frustration blinded her. Andor fought his way through her attack, trying to grab for her wrist. She beat him back each time. In the end, it was her weakened condition and her emotions which stopped her. She hurled the switch into the fire and fell to her knees in a sob.

  "How?" She begged to know. "I have done naught to you."

  Andor tried to flex away the pain from her blows. "You rid yourself of my child."

  "Did you ever ask yourself how a woman as weak as Gillian could have accomplished such a thing?" his mother asked.

  Andor looked from her stern stance to Gillian’s huddled form.

  "‘Twas Thora," Asa blurted out.

  Gillian jerked her head up to look at Andor. "Aye, Thora. And, I suspect, Thora who made me sick the whole voyage. ‘Twas she whose tea I drank before we sailed."

  "And we think ‘twas Thora who poisoned Tove," his mother added.

  "But...why?"

  "You have to ask Thora that, but I would guess ‘twould be to have you for her own," Gillian said. "For the life of me, I will never understand what she would want with the likes of you."

  Andor knelt before her. "Gillian, love, can you ever forgive me? I have been such a fool."

  "That you have. Forgive you? Not over your grave."

  "Gillian...." He reached to pull her close.

  Gillian slapped his hands away. "You will not touch me again. Husband or not. You keep to yourself. Soon as I am able I will go back to my home...in Ireland."

  "You are my wife. I will not let you go."

  "You will have no say in the matter." She scrambled to her feet and ran to her bed closet.

  Andor sat cross-legged on the floor and buried his head in his hands. "I messed things up badly, Mother."

  "Yes, you did."

  She replied too quickly for his liking. He was hurt that she hadn’t made an attempt to stick up for him. Her next words bothered him even more.

  "If she had not taken a switch to you, I might have. She beat you better than I would have. I am proud of her for that."

  Andor shot her a glare and stood. "I think I will join Father and Björn at Tove’s."

  "Feel free to borrow one of Björn’s horses," Asa called to his back. "That is, if you can still sit one comfortably."

  Andor ignored the giggles behind him and went on.

  It was, by far, the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Gillian said she would never forgive him, and Andor didn’t doubt that for a minute. He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. Looking back on what had happened, he saw just how stupid his accusations had been. And to top it off by accusing her of Tove’s murder was the epitome of idiocy. Gillian had a hard enough time maneuvering around the house. How could she have managed to get to Tove’s farm and back? Where was his head?

  "Up your rear," his father would say.

  And to think I was ready to beat her.

  Andor shook his head. He was no better than Leif. He deserved having the tables turned on him there. Even if the pain of that was going to linger for a day or two. He deserved that, too. It could never match the emotional pain he’d put Gillian through. That would last a lifetime - one which she now had no intention of sharing with him.

  How in the world could he begin to make up for what he’d done? The answer eluded him. All he knew was that he had to find some way to make Gillian stay...willingly.

  And there was one more thing he was sure of, in this he was alone. There would be no kindly parental advice to guide him. He’d be lucky if his family did not choose to help Gillian leave. As angry as his mother was, it might be he who would be cast out and Gillian made a t
reasured daughter.

  He hurried the horse on to Tove’s when he saw his father and Björn standing outside her house. Their heads were bent in conversation, but when they heard his approach, they stopped and gave their attention to him.

  "What happened to you?" Björn asked.

  "Nothing. Why?"

  "You have a cut on your cheek."

  Andor touched it - dried blood. Gillian’s aim had been sporadic but true.

  "Looks like you got into a fight with a cat," his father added.

  "A wildcat." Andor eased down from the horse. "Tove is gone?"

  "Poison," Björn said.

  "I must see her."

  Björn held him in place. "‘Tis best you do not. Remember her as she was in life, not in death. Mother will prepare her for burial."

  Andor gave a slow nod. "Was it by Thora’s hand?"

  His father raised a brow. "So...you finally came to your senses."

  "Well, one of you might have said something instead of letting me make a fool of myself."

  Björn scratched his head. "As I recall, you did not give us the chance."

  Andor scuffed the dirt with his heel. "Aye, that much is true...About Tove - "

  "We believe it was Thora who put the poison in Tove’s tea this morning. One of the men saw a woman visit early, but paid no mind who it was since Tove always had many visitors," his father said.

  "How can we prove it? Thora has to be stopped," Andor said.

  "There is a way, but it will depend on you and Gillian pretending she did not lose the child," Björn said.

  "I think Gillian would do anything to catch Thora," he replied. "What plan do you have?"

  "We must first lay Tove to rest," his father said. "After the funeral, here is what we will do."

  Judging from the number of people who attended Tove’s funeral, Gillian knew the woman was well thought of. She stood by the wagon with Andor, watching as all of Tove’s worldly possessions were placed with her in her grave. Her clothes. Her jewelry. Her spinning and loom. Her bed. Her favorite chair, dishes, and cooking utensils. Even barrels of milk and ale. Sven’s simple eulogy followed.

  Gillian felt tears prick her eyes. She had known the woman only the briefest of time, but it was long enough for her to realize Tove was a special woman.

  She looked up at Andor. He was dry-eyed, but solemn. "You must have loved her."

  "Who did not," he replied.

  "That is not what I meant." She turned back to the funeral.

  Andor sighed. "To a young man of sixteen she was specially loved. She was my first. Of course, I would love her."

  "What did your family think of that?"

  "Until last night, they did not know."

  Gillian felt the heat of his gaze on her cheek and swallowed the rising beat of her heart. "I am sorry to have let the secret out."

  "‘Twas no secret...really. Olaf and Rollo knew...They had had the benefit of her...guidance as I did. Leif also knew."

  "She must have been very good with her...guidance."

  "You should know."

  It amazed Gillian that three simple words could have the power to heat her skin as they did.

  "Was she the best?" she heard herself ask.

  When he did not answer, she looked at him. It was a mistake - his gaze held her prisoner. With his fingers, he tilted her chin and bent toward her.

  "No...she was not...you are."

  When Gillian tried to pull back, he tilted her chin higher, holding her in place.

  "Now, you would not want everyone to think we were less than a loving couple, would you?" he asked. "Remember, we have a murderer to catch. Thora is watching. We must play our parts well."

  The kiss which followed was simple. No locked lips. No dancing tongues. No long embrace. But it had the same devastating effect on Gillian’s senses.

  It would be an easy thing to give in to the needs he aroused in her. To forget the hurtful things he’d said. To ignore that he had been ready to beat her with only suspicion as his truth. If only his kiss meant love and was not part of a ploy to trap Thora.

  From her lips he moved to her forehead. Gillian kept her eyes closed as her body absorbed the heat of that caress. Surely he is putting a brand on me.

  "Thora is coming this way," Andor whispered. "Ready?"

  Gillian nodded and leaned into him.

  "Good day, Thora," he called.

  "Good day. ‘Tis a terrible tragedy, is it not?"

  "Very sad," Gillian said. "Brief that I knew her, I could see she was a special person. She was much loved."

  "Yes...The loss will be felt by all. ‘Tis a difficult day," Thora said.

  "And a tiring one also," Andor said. "I must get Gillian back to the house so she might rest. We learned we are to have a child. Have you heard?"

  Thora struggled for a response. "A child...yes...of course."

  "The journey here and illness have been rough. The physician says she must get as much rest as possible. But I am glad you came over. Mother has planned a meal for this afternoon. She is inviting those closest to Tove and would like you and your parents to be there."

  "Of course. I will tell Mother." She pasted on a smile and walked past them.

  Andor signaled his father then lifted Gillian into the wagon. Although his hold was gentle, she grimaced from the movement.

  "Did I hurt you?"

  "No, I am just a bit sore from all that thrashing about."

  He jumped up beside her. "I feel sore myself."

  Gillian shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. "You deserved it."

  He chuckled. "That I did, and you can bet I will hear about it from my family for the rest of my days...I know of a remedy for our aches and pains."

  "What might that be?"

  "‘Tis some distance from here but well within a day to and fro. A hot spring with a bank of snow near it that stays year round. A dip in the snow and then in the spring and we shall be good as new."

  Gillian folded her hands on her lap and stared ahead. "I will not have any part of you and myself in a hot spring."

  Andor bristled at her rejection. "Do you ever intend to forgive me?"

  She tilted her head as if considering it. "Not as I can see."

  "You are my wife."

  "I will be remedying that soon."

  "What would it take to get you to stay with me?"

  Just tell me you love me. Just say you cannot bear a life without me. Unable to say the words aloud, Gillian stared at her hands.

  The ride home curtailed any further discussion, and gave Andor the time he needed to try to find a way to win Gillian back. No ideas readily came to mind. By the time they had reached the house, people had started to arrive for the meal, and his quiet time was disrupted.

  The gathering was a select group of high-ranking families and local notables who had attended Tove’s funeral. It was his father’s plan to try Thora immediately, if her guilt could be established. The men in the gathering would provide the necessary quorum to do so.

  He sat with Gillian and his parents and waited. Only a short time passed before Thora arrived with her parents. Her gaze settled on her target, and she headed their way.

  "So glad you could make it," his mother told her. "I am sorry I could not extend the invitation myself."

  "Mother understands...Gillian, you do not look well."

  "I am feeling a bit parched," she replied. "Andor, fetch me a drink."

  "No, sit." Thora waved him back down. "I will get it."

  As she scurried away, Gillian laced her fingers through Andor’s to quell their shaking. He could feel her pulse thudding with anxiety. It echoed his own. Thora returned with the cup extended before her.

  "Here you are. A nice drink of ale."

  Gillian bit her bottom lip as she accepted it. "I am sorry. I cannot drink ale. The physician said no."

  Thora reached for the cup. "No bother. I will get water."

  "There is no sense wasting good ale." Andor grabbed
the cup before Thora could get her hands on it and lifted it to his lips.

  "No!" Thora knocked the drink from his hand.

  All heads turned in their direction. Silence descended upon the hall.

  "Why did you do that?" Andor asked. "Why did you not want me to drink the ale, Thora?"

  She spun around, looking for escape.

  Björn blocked her way. "Answer the question."

  With eyes wide and fearful, she searched among the faces for an ally. All she found was curious stares.

  "Or would you like the physician to test the dregs and tell us what he finds?" Andor asked. "I wonder what it will be this time. Oil of tansy? Hemlock? Or something new."

  Thora darted past Björn and to her parents, hoping for their support. They turned away as if she did not exist.

  "I...I cannot believe you are accusing me of such a...a hideous deed."

  The old physician picked up the cup from where it had fallen and placed it in the small cage he had brought with him. The mouse inside crept forward to lick the remains of the ale.

  It was a pitiful sight, watching the tiny rodent succumb. Andor couldn’t bear it at times, for he paralleled Tove’s last minutes in his mind. Gillian could not watch at all. She kept her gaze fixed on the far wall during the time the event took place. When the mouse had breathed its last, all eyes focused on Thora.

  "Hemlock," the physician announced. "It is what killed Tove."

  Thora backed away.

  "Did you give Tove hemlock?" his father asked.

  She shook her head. Her mouth moved as if she spoke, but no words left her.

  "Did you give Gillian tansy and just now put hemlock in her drink?" his father asked.

  Thora held her hands before her, pleading. "I...I only wanted what should have been mine. Mother and Father would not wait. They said I was getting on. I had to marry Leif. I thought he would leave me when I carried my sons and then I could have you. But he did not. Then Astrid. I pushed...I thought...Then her." She jabbed a shaky finger in Gillian’s direction. "Why? I would have taken care of Leif. She is nothing more than a Gaedhil peasant. A witch. I wanted only you. Do you not see? I did so for us. With Gillian gone, you have no more obligation."