If My Heart Could See You

by , Sherry Ewing

  Pondering the memory of her mother only brought more sorrow to her already broken heart as she had been very close to her. ’Twas giving birth to Patrick that cost her beloved mother her life and she watched as her father grieved for his love as she had never seen afore. Amiria could only envision the wonder of having a husband whom she could love in a like manner and have that love returned tenfold. Since her father never found a betrothed worthy enough for her, she had her doubts she would find the man on her own. Those who had come in the past only saw her for her dowry and saw nothing of the woman who they would take to wife.

  Taking a poker from the hearth, she plunged it into the crimson, fiery coals then turned and poured herself a mug of wine. She sprinkled a few dried herbs into her cup and plunged the red hot iron into the brew to mull. A sweet aroma filled the air and for a moment the smell reminded her of when her mother would perform this small act for her father. ’Twas almost as if she could feel her parents’ calming presence in the room.

  Closing her eyes for a brief respite from the hell her life had become, she envisioned her parents and Aiden standing afore her. She and her twin had been inseparable as youths and could be counted on to finish each other’s sentences, to the irritation of Sabina. Of course, her poor younger sister had suffered terribly from their pranks. Amiria had to admit she had been prone, just as badly as her twin, to put a squiggly worm or two down her sister’s dress or slimy toads into her shoes. They had never had the heart to do such to Lynet, and perchance this was the cause of Sabina’s growing abhorrence of her youngest sister. Thinking of her twin, she knew in her heart, if he were in truth gone from this world and in heaven with their parents, she would have felt it with every fiber of her being. Since she could feel nothing but dread, she could only pray he yet lived.

  As Amiria remembered her childhood, she could still see her father’s face when he had come across Aiden teaching her how to use a sword. Aghast that his son would allow his sister to use a sharpened weapon of war, he had scolded Aiden ’til even her ears had felt burnt from the heat of their father’s words. ’Twas only through her mother’s gentle coaxing that evening as she soothed their sire, that he had decided to see to her training himself. He was amused by her skill at such a tender age, but Amiria could also remember the pleasure in his eyes at her progress. Never one to disappoint her father and always looking for praise from him, she had doubled her efforts to learn as best she could. It had been clear, however, the only chance she would ever use such a weapon was for practicing with her father, Aiden, or Ian. Her father never allowed anyone else to train with her and had made it perfectly clear her sword was never to be used for the defense of their home. That would only be done by well-trained seasoned warriors of the clan.

  Amiria opened her eyes, looked at her siblings, and thought on the words she had given them but a while ago. Patrick was equally confused by his older sister’s dress and could not understand the ruse of portraying her twin she had deployed for their new liege. Amiria was determined to do whatever it took to protect her clan and those she loved. She could almost feel the horrific omen sure to crash down over her head with the tale she had told, and knew the amount of penance she would pay for the sin of lying. Her knees ached at the very thought of the hours ahead of her on the hard, cold chapel floor.

  Her time for day dreaming came to an abrupt halt with the opening of the solar door. Ian and Nevin entered with looks of displeasure. Clearly ’twas not a good sign of what was yet to come.

  “He asks for you, Amiria . . . or I should say he asks for Aiden,” Ian growled. “I dare not say him nay.”

  “Then let us be on our way to see our lord dragon, Ian,” she declared, setting down her now cool wine.

  “He requests all of you to come afore him,” Nevin added. “Why he wants to see the bairn’s, I know not.”

  “’Tis not surprising, Sir Nevin, since my siblings are now his charges and he will see to their best interests, or so I hope,” Amiria answered quietly. “Come, children. We must pay homage to our new liege lord.”

  “He is no lord of mine,” Sabina answered snidely, “and I am certainly no child!”

  “Watch your shrewish tongue sister, afore you bring the wrath of yon dragon down upon our heads,” Amiria replied sharply.

  Sabina looked at her with hatred pouring from her eyes. “Who are you to tell me what to do? You are not lady of this hall, nor are you my mother. You have no right to speak to me so,” she yelled.

  Ian at last stepped forward between the two young women, who now stood toe to toe and looked ready to pull each other’s hair out. “Cease your caterwauling and think of your younger siblings for once in your life, Lady Sabina. Do you want them cowering afore their new lord? You are the proud descendants of clan MacLaren and have their blood flowing through your veins! Remember my words and your station in life that you do not disgrace those who have already left this world afore you. I believe your father would rather look down from heaven and see you all standing afore the English with honor than trembling with fear.”

  Sabina stared with open mouthed wonder at his words. She shook with anger that he would speak to her so, especially in front of others. “How dare you!” she exclaimed once she found her voice.

  “I will dare much to guard and protect this family, as I swore to our laird. ’Til I am told otherwise by our new lord, I will continue with my duties as I have done these many years,” Ian chided. “Now come . . . you must pay homage to our liege, so do not further test my patience this day, wee one.”

  Sabina’s mouth snapped shut, and she threw Ian a cold glare of hatred whilst she strode through the door Nevin held open for her.

  Amiria took Patrick’s hand in hers and followed behind Lynet. She chanced one small look in Ian’s direction as she passed his way. The anger she saw in the depths of his eyes all but told her something was afoot, and ’twas not to his liking. She had a hunch she would not care for what she learned either, once she made her way down to the Great Hall to confront the dragon below. Giving a heavy sigh of weariness, she wished just once she could put off the inevitable.

  Hugh squinted into the dimness of the pit whilst he felt something slither for what seemed like the hundredth time across his legs. He was cold, wet, and tired of the mire that continuously seeped through his hose, leaving him chilled to the bone. Having lost track of time, he had tried to climb the walls of his slime-infested prison, but to no avail. ’Twould be no escaping his tomb ’til someone at last remembered his location and lowered a ladder so he could escape to freedom.

  Yet ’twas only a matter of time ’til said freedom was granted, and ’til then he would plot his retaliation against Dristan of Blackmore. With thoughts of vengeance running rampant through his head, Hugh smiled for the first time in days, and his malicious laughter echoed off the walls, declaring impending misfortune of what was yet to come.

  Six

  “And I tell you, the wench was more than happy to bed with me that night,” Taegan argued with his brother.

  “Hah . . . as if you could remember you were even capable of the deed, you were so far gone into your ale,” laughed Turquine, thumping his mug on the wooden table to be filled by a nearby serving maid. The replenished brew sloshed in his mug when the girl jumped to miss his eager hands but still managed a squeal of protest as his palm landed affectionately on her bottom with a smack. “’Twas with me the girl had such a memorable night to remember! Believe me, mate’s, when I tell you, she was not complaining!”

  Bertram wiped his mouth on his tunic sleeve and gave a loud belch of approval of his meal. “You, and the entire company, had her boys!” he chimed in, and laughter resounded from several of Dristan’s knights.

  “Aye, I seem to remember plenty of noise coming from the stable’s loft that night. She was a feisty wench that one was, despite her saying she was a virgin!” Ulrick reminisced with a chuckle.

  “Virgin my arse!” Morgan yelled out.

  Dristan laughed alon
g with his men whilst the squabbling continued, in between bites of food and swigs of ale and mead. The fare had been the best he had eaten in some time and he was more than pleased with the cook of the keep. Pushing back his now empty trencher, he wiped his hands on his tunic, grabbed his goblet of wine, and rose from his chair.

  Riorden and Fletcher joined him as they made their way to stand by the hearth with their own mug of ale in hand to quench their thirst.

  “So will you marry the youngest maids off?” Fletcher asked quietly, taking a long pull of his brew.

  “Perchance you might take a fancy to one of them and take her to wife yourself,” Riorden added.

  “You know that is not my intent with the younger girls, so why do you even bring up such a notion?” Dristan growled, looking at his captain with anger.

  “Mayhap he thought you changed your mind,” Fletcher suggested. “’Tis rumored no man will have the oldest, she is such a shrew!”

  “As if I had a choice in the command I have been given.” Dristan dragged his fingers through his hair, showing his frustration. “This time, the price is almost too high for the taking of this keep.”

  “I daresay you could tell the king nay,” Riorden proposed.

  “You must believe you are speaking to some other fool if you think I would just sit back and watch whilst I forfeit everything I have worked for and have it be stripped from me. I do not relish having to justify my actions to an angry king in order to keep what I have gained from the strength of my arm and sword!”

  “Lands, wealth, and title are not everything, Dristan,” Fletcher said lightly.

  “Aye, ’tis not, but I do not wish to have my head sitting on yonder pike outside these gates either! I have cheated death one too many times to have my head lopped off because of King Henry’s whim.”

  Riorden took a sip of ale. “Surely ’twould not come to that, mon ami. Are you not in good standing with our king?”

  “Aye, today I am such . . . who knows what the morrow shall bring,” he declared gruffly, hoping any further conversation regarding his decisions was closed. He watched the hall and his men with the eye of an eagle and thought mayhap he had been too lenient with them, that they indulged in drink too readily. A little time in the lists will change that, he thought smugly to himself.

  A commotion on the stairway brought his attention to the group following Aiden as they made their way to Dristan’s side. “Mon dieu, I am saddled with mere babes,” he whispered in despair to Riorden.

  “They hardly look related, they are so unalike,” Riorden said just as faintly.

  The family came to stand afore Dristan, and with a slight word from Aiden, they knelt together, giving him their pledge of fealty. One by one, they rose as they were commanded whilst Dristan took his time inspecting each of the children. He watched as the young woman with dark hair gazed at him as if he were a tasty meal about to be devoured. He had seen such a look afore on many a maid and knew this girl to be trouble. He dismissed her with a stern look whilst she lowered her head, even though she continued to do her own inspection of her new lord through lowered lashes.

  The youngest boy could barely stand, he trembled so in fear. Perchance ’twas best if he started with him.

  “So, young Patrick, you, too, have remained with your laird it seems. He did not wish to see you fostered at another keep and learn the duties of page?” he questioned with a scowl.

  Patrick quaked in fear at the sound of his lord’s voice and, most likely, had wild thoughts of being roasted alive by a fire breathing dragon running fiercely through his mind. He reached for his older sibling’s hand. Instead of finding it, Dristan watched as Aiden gave the boy a gentle nudge, forcing Patrick to take one step forward closer to his new lord. “Na-Nay, my lord,” was all he managed to yelp.

  Dristan crossed his arms on his massive chest and looked down upon the boy. “Perchance he did not feel you capable of the job, do you think?” He saw the stubborn Scottish pride rise up in Patrick’s small body and a spark light his eyes at Dristan’s words.

  “Nay, my lord; I could do it and do it well if but shown how!” he replied, with a confidence he probably only half felt.

  “Hmmm . . . I am not so sure,” Dristan replied as he stroked his chin, giving it further thought.

  Dristan could only imagine what was going through the young boy’s head, as Patrick stared at him with frightened eyes, assessing his liege’s height. He hid a smile when the lad gave a mighty gulp, attempting to shake off the panic surely about to set in. But he had to give the boy some credit as he watched the boy’s chin raise, as though he did not wish his recently deceased sire to think poorly of him.

  “You could teach me,” Patrick announced, and clapped his hands over his mouth in sudden alarm. ’Twas perfectly clear even the boy had not meant to have such words escape his lips.

  Startled gasps of surprise came from his sisters and those other souls standing nearby. It echoed in the once quiet hall. Dougal even went so far as to suggest mayhap a curse had unknowingly been placed upon Patrick to so foolishly suggest such a thing to the Devil’s Dragon. Devon frantically whispered he had heard from one of the passing serfs just this morn that the dragon afore them ate little boys to break his fast and young Patrick was doomed!

  Dristan dismissed the gossip running rampant in his hall and held up his hand to silence those around them. His gaze leveled on the boy, who stood trembling afore him. “’Tis possible I suppose, and has merit. I have not taken a page in some time, however. ’Tis a big responsibility,” he pondered. “What think you, Riorden? Mayhap the lad will serve me well?”

  Riorden reached down and firmly took the boys chin as though to examine him further. “Well my lord, he will fit in with the rest of your men with his dark hair and eyes . . . we could not take him otherwise now could we?”

  Dristan placed his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. “’Tis true, Riorden, and a trait required of any man who would ride with me. Hmmm,” he mused with a scowl, as if deliberating the worth of the issue. He slapped his hand on his thigh with his decision. “’Tis done then . . . I will take you since you yourself made such a convincing proposition. You’re training begins now, Patrick. Do not fail me!”

  “Aye, my lord,” came the weak reply as the lad stepped back next to his sisters.

  Dristan took in the rest of the group, who stood there with nothing but shock showing on their faces. He looked down, feeling the youngest daughter’s gaze come to rest upon him. “You are Lynet?” he asked gruffly.

  “Aye, my lord,” she replied quietly but with a smile upon her youthful face. “Do you have some task that I could also perform to aid our home?”

  Dristan folded his arms again upon his chest and noticed how the girl seemed eager to also be assigned some small service to her new lord. “Perchance some mending. Can you sew a straight seam, Lady Lynet?”

  “Aye, my lord, I can.”

  “Then mayhap you could assist with mending some of my soldiers clothing and blankets. That could keep you busy for some time, and would be most useful especially with winter upon us soon.”

  “I will see to it, my liege,” Lynet replied most satisfied, knowing she, too, could serve her new lord to his liking.

  He nodded his head and placed his arms behind his back. “The morrow brings us a new beginning,” he addressed not only the family but the serfs also gathered in the Great Hall. “Obey me, and you will find me agreeable to most things. Do not mistake any kindness I may show for weakness, as I will punish those who go against my wishes and commands. A messenger will be sent to Edinburgh to fetch the eldest daughter home where she belongs. ’Til then you, Sabina, as the next female descendant, will serve as chatelaine of the keep ’til your sister’s return. I expect the place to be kept in order enough to please our king if he deems to visit such a remote lowly place as this. A warm meal to fill the stomachs of my hungry men should also be at the ready. Do you feel capable of such a duty as this?” he as
ked, with authority.

  Sabina looked him full in the eye and gave him her most seductive smile. She was obviously more than pleased with her new role. “Aye, my Lord Dristan. I have been well trained,” she answered, and her voice, as she spoke his name, sounded like that of a caress.

  Dristan ignored the implied invitation and continued to speak to the family afore him. “Your meals will now be taken in the Great Hall. If you feel you cannot break bread with me, then you can go hungry, as I will not cater to your whims of dining alone.”

  He turned his full attention to the oldest lad, who hovered in the shadows. A frown marred his features whilst he looked at the boy. Merde! ’Twas it just his imagination, or did the lad seemingly look more womanly with each glance he took? Perchance ’twas the lighting of the hall or he was just overly tired. Aiden’s training could not begin soon enough, he decided.

  “Follow me,” he ordered to all within his hearing. He grabbed a torch from a wall sconce and strode from the hall into the cool evening night.

  Clansmen and serfs alike walked outside not knowing what was to come as they followed their lord to the outer bailey. Villagers had also been summoned and had already gathered. Smoking torches had been lit and illuminated the area with a golden flickering glow. They watched as several of their lord’s guardsmen stood in a long line and, as they parted, they saw Hugh of Harlow stretched out on a pole with back bared. ’Twas then they knew what they would witness this night.

  Dristan motioned for Aiden to step forward to stand beside him whilst he handed a coiled whip to one of his men. The rope was released with a mighty snap that cracked into the evening air, causing those within its hearing to cringe and flinch. They stared in horror at the rope made of many lengths of braided leather, each holding a ball of metal tied to its end. ’Twould ensure that hideous pain would be inflicted on one’s back. Only a fool would not learn his lesson after even one taste of such a lash landed upon one’s flesh.

  Dristan watched the boy’s face turn ashen whilst his man readied his arm, awaiting his command. “Someday, you, too, shall have to issue the settling of scores so all under your care are treated fairly,” he whispered for the boy’s ears alone.