IntoEternity (26 page)

“I have forgotten nothing. Do not think to distract me now.
I have a war to prepare for and a wife to recover.”

Donovan merely stood there and grinned.

“Tell me, Ross! What’s on your mind? I do not have time for
your riddles.”

“Look around you, Sutherland. Who amongst your party is
missing?”

Alexander was not pleased with Donovan’s half answers but he
did as the Ross bade him and turned to look around. He had only brought Davin
and Violet with him into the walls of the fortress to fetch his wife. Violet
had left with Gusty and Davin was mounted and ready to depart. He shook his
head to deny that he was missing any of his party. The moment he realized his
mistake he flushed under the loud roar of laughter that filled the bailey. Angry
and annoyed that he had not been the first to notice his young nephew’s blatant
absence, he let his feelings be known.

“Duncan!” Alexander’s bellow had the horses sidestepping
nervously. “Where is he?” he asked but feared he already knew the answer.
Judging by the amused look on the Ross’ face, he did as well.

“I believe he has joined your wife’s escort. His presence
should become known sometime tonight or tomorrow, if his luck holds out.”

Alexander chuckled, surprising himself. “Perhaps this will
be a boon. I will have an inside ear to what goes on at court. My thanks,
Donovan, for the generosity.”

Alexander spun his horse around and put his heels to Caesar’s
flanks. He and Davin rode like the wind, their horses’ hooves eating up the
earth with each powerful stride.

* * * * *

“You are a great fool!”

Black Bart tried to ignore the restraining hand clutching at
his arm as he stood next to his horse, preparing to mount. Her grip tightened
considerably and he could no longer ignore her as her long, sharp nails dug
painfully into the flesh of his upper arm.

“Listen to me for once in your life, Bart! You err if you go
to Edgar’s court now. The timing is not right for your plans. Heed my words now
and that which you desire most will come to pass. Ignore what I say and you
shall fail in all things most sorrowfully.”

Imogen’s prophetic warning gave Bart pause. He was
determined to achieve his aspirations. He had no doubt he would, with this
witch’s help. But he was not going to let her dictate his every move. Aye and
right now, he felt his attendance at court would accomplish what he wanted.

“So be it. But do not come back to me whining that you have
ruined your chances for power and seek my assistance, for you will not be welcomed.
If you leave me now, Bart, you leave for all time.”

Bart looked at the woman who had been his mistress for so
many years. A moment of regret filled his heart but disappeared in a flash. The
bitch had changed in the many years they had been together. Imogen was no
longer young and attractive. Her body had grown thin and her features sharp and
angular. Her once glorious crown of black curls was white as snow except for
one stubborn lock. Nay, she was no longer the beauty he had desired and taken
without benefit of marriage. She was just one of the many mistresses he had
known over the years and there were others, younger and certainly more comely
to sample. He had a few regrets in his life and she was the last.

“I must go. I won’t be returning to beg your aid.” He
removed her fingers from his arm and kissed her stiff, cool lips one last time.
For a moment he believed he could taste the bitterness of her soul, the
hostility of her essence. “In truth, I won’t be returning at all.” The words
gave Bart a moment of fleeting pain but when he saw there was no reaction in
her eyes, no hurt, no joy, just a deep emptiness that lacked any kind of
emotion at all, he realized she had been so lacking for a very long time. He
had just refused to acknowledge the truth before now. So with a shrug, he
mounted his horse and turned the steed down the road. He put his heels to the
horse’s flanks and rode away, feeling only a slight twinge of remorse for
leaving behind the mother of his children.

Imogen watched him go, knowing they would meet again and not
under such civil conditions. He would regret throwing her aside as if she was
some used-up old whore riddled with disease and easily dismissed. Her smile was
cold and evil as her mind worked on a scheme of revenge. Her dear Bart would
soon learn he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Sweet revenge would be
hers after all of these years and she was ready to embrace it.

Gusty cursed long and fluently in both Gaelic and English at
her bad luck. In fact she hadn’t cursed just once, she cursed every hour of
every day she found herself stuck at court without Alexander.

When she rode away from the Ross keep with the king’s
guardsmen, Gusty expected Alexander to follow her to court. But when she
arrived she found he had been given no time to come to her but was sent straight
into battle by the king’s command. Shocked and filled with disbelief she’d
demanded to be escorted to her husband at once. The guard had looked at her as
if she had lost her marbles, bowed low and murmured phrases of concern for her
poor female disposition. He then instructed her that he was to present her to
the king immediately. She did not even have time to clean up from the long ride
and she was covered in dirt and smelled of horse sweat.

Her audience with the king of Scotland did not turn out to
be anything like she had imagined. The whole interview was abrupt and over
quickly. Edgar was a busy man, after all, and he was in the process of
organizing his loyal retainers to join the northern clans so he could only
afford her a short audience before leaving.

When she entered the great hall he was seated on the dais, obviously
waiting for her to approach. His piercing blue eyes made her nervous and her
knees were literally shaking as she came to stand in front of him. He was
indeed a formidable man. Only after she found herself facing him did she
remember to make a deep curtsy.

From his raised chair, Edgar looked down upon her as she
bowed low before him. He motioned for her to rise and she did so, a little
uncertain of what was expected.

“You are the image of your mother, dear girl, when she was
your age. She is still a very beautiful woman even in her prime. A shame her
father cast her into that convent. Perhaps the day will come when your father
has more say in the matter of her residency.” He shrugged his shoulders. “In
the meantime, you will make a lovely addition to my court. My servants will see
to your needs.”

His familial comparison shocked Gusty to the core. She had
thought her parentage unknown to anyone but her immediate family. “You know who
my parents are, Sire?”

“Aye, lass, I know your mother and your father.”

Edgar surprised her even further by winking at her without
noticeably changing his regal expression. He stood and walked down the steps
past her and out of the hall to join his entourage of men who awaited his
command. Clearly their brief meeting was over but she was left with the
distinct impression her life had just been irrevocably altered forever. She had
not even had the opportunity to ask him about her husband and their situation.

She discovered after he had left her that the king had gone
to join the Highland lairds who had gathered their clansmen in a call to arms.
What had started as a small skirmish between a contingency of Viking traders
and local clansmen had escalated into a full-fledged war when the Viking
invaders had attacked several coastal settlements, claiming the territory as
their own. Messengers were dispatched to all Edgar’s loyal followers and every
available man had been recruited to his cause.

This news left Gusty sick at heart. She hated to think of
Alexander fighting in a battle miles away while she was left to wait for any scrap
of news that happened to filter back, whether good or bad. In this barbaric
time, peace was precious and war was a way of life. The Highlanders were proud
warriors and they were not about to stand by and let raiders from the North Sea
invade their shores again.

She had always been fascinated by stories of Viking
migration throughout the known world. At her brother’s urgings she had taken
several courses in world history while she attended college. Michael had always
been obsessed with European history, especially that of medieval England and
Scotland. Now she understood why. This was an exciting time, a colorful time, a
brutal time.

She had seen what Hollywood had done to make those stories
come to life on the big screen, all the screaming and dying, blood and gore and
severed limbs lying everywhere. Those were not images she wanted to dwell upon.
If movies were anything to go by, the battle between the Highland clans and the
Norsemen would be no picnic in the park. And that thought had her faint with
worry. Not only would Alexander be in danger but her father and even Donovan
Ross were also fighting the Vikings. And, she thought with a wry smile, even
her Grandfather MacKay would be out there. He impressed her as a wily old
villain who couldn’t be kept from a good fight.

As one day followed the next, Gusty came to learn more and
more about what life was really like in a medieval court. Their day-to-day
activities and customs were in no way what she had expected. She had always
thought a royal court would be full of lavishly costumed people, amusing
discourse and deep intrigue. But she found little of those things. Edgar’s
parents, Margaret and Malcolm III, had tried to implement English dress and
customs to the courts of Scotland. But after their deaths—and following the
reign of two more kings—things had regressed back to the Celtic traditions and
only a hint of the English customs remained.

The castle itself was small, though well built for the time
period, with myriad corridors and dozens of small room on ground level, mostly
servants’ quarters, storerooms and kitchens. The second floor housed the great hall
and two huge staircases leading up to the third floor where the women’s solar
and sleep quarters of the royal family were situated. On the whole, it was
elegantly furnished but still not as impressive as her imagination had
visualized. Both the Sutherland keep and the Ross keep were just as well
appointed even if they were a good deal smaller, evidence Edgar did not hold
all the wealth in the land and depended on his loyal subjects for their
financial gifts and support.

Life in the confinement of the everyday court verged on
being deathly boring. There were no lavish celebrations and few amusements
other than storytelling and singing by the resident troubadour or an occasional
traveling minstrel. The ladies spent most days in the solar, gossiping with one
another over their embroidery and needlework. Some of the more talented spent
their afternoons painting and still others sat in the walled garden just to get
out in the fresh air.

Servants and the castle guard—a large number of fighting men
left behind to guard the king’s “treasures”—made up most of the castle’s population.
Edgar had never married but he found himself the royal guardian of many young
boys and a bevy of females of all ages. Some of the children were orphans but many
had been sent to the royal court at King Edgar’s “request”. These young people
were in fact royal hostages, the king’s leverage to keep their sires in line to
his way of thinking.

Gusty was such a hostage. She’d been ordered to stay at
court until Edgar was satisfied her father had come to terms with her being
handfasted to Alexander. Gusty had learned through gossip that her own father
had petitioned Edgar to take her in until he was satisfied she had made the
best choice. If she’d had Malcolm Sinclair within her grasp when she discovered
his deceit, she would have run him through with his own sword. How dare he
interfere with her life? Even if she had agreed to do what her father wished
and consider another choice for her husband, most of the young candidates had
gone off to war so her father’s plotting had come to naught. Nothing was going
to happen until the fighting ended and the men came home. Even Alexander was
not available to her.

It was a sobering thought that all the men she had come to
care for in this time were away fighting a battle in which every last one of
them could easily be killed at any turn. Fortunately she did not have much time
to ponder on her misery. With all the young women who lived in the castle there
was always someone to keep her company so Gusty was very rarely alone.

Even so she had a hard time ignoring the aching emptiness in
her chest, which grew as the long days turned into long weeks. She missed
Alexander more every day but the nights were the hardest for her to bear. She
spent most of them sitting in the middle of her big bed, unable to sleep as her
thoughts went to her beloved and the short time they’d had together, reliving every
detail in her mind. During this time she realized just how much she really
loved him.

When Gusty had first been shown to these rooms she had been
duly impressed with the size of the high bed and the large fireplace. Her few
belongings were stored away in the chests arranged against one wall and a
polished-steel mirror hung above a small dressing table against another.

When she found out she was also to acquire a new wardrobe by
command of the king, she was overwhelmed. It had never occurred to her that as
a ward of the court she would be dealt with in such a royal way. The first few
days were hectic for her. She found herself being bustled from seamstresses to
cobblers as the royal housekeeper ordered bolts of materials to be made into
gowns and wraps, and soft, pliant leather be turned into slippers and boots. It
took hours of fittings to get the wardrobe finished but they were hours well
spent as the activity kept her mind off Alexander’s absence. By the end of her
first mouth in the royal residence, Gusty was the owner of a magnificent
wardrobe the likes of which she never could have dreamed.

She was thankful for the new gowns when she made her first
appearance in the great hall for an evening meal. She had thought the dresses
Alexander had provided for her lovely but she’d left them all behind at
Sutherland Keep when Alexander had taken her to the abbey. There she had worn
the simple gowns provided by the nuns.

Those gowns were rags compared to the garments created for
her here. She had not appeared in the great hall until her first dress had been
sewn and delivered to her. She wasn’t vain but in this new world she needed all
the confidence she could gather to face the unknown realities that battered her
senses every day. She made it through those first few weeks with her morale
intact and she began to feel more at ease in her new environment.

By the end of the second month Gusty began taking long naps
every afternoon. At first she did not understand her exhaustion. She thought
maybe the long, tiresome weeks she had spent being dragged about the Highland countryside
had finally caught up with her. But it did not take her long to figure out that
a different type of exhaustion plagued her. Her body was changing and along
with the depression and loneliness she felt, those changes began to take their
toll on her.

Gusty worried constantly about Alexander. She prayed daily
for his safe return. But that did not keep the long days and endless nights
from turning into longer weeks and those weeks soon turned into months. Her
insomnia returned and she fell back into her old habit of walking the floor at
night but she made up for it by sleeping for hours during the day.

The previous day marked the six-month anniversary of her
handfasting. Six months since they had made love for the first time, four
months since Gusty had kissed Alexander goodbye and rode away, never to see him
again. She sat on the window seat in her chamber, dreaming of the day he would
walk through the door, take her into his arms and kiss her breathless,
promising to never leave her again.

Via the gossip she acquired through Violet and her trusted
little spy, Duncan, Gusty learned a few bits and pieces of news that were not
at all encouraging. If the reports were correct, it would be many more months
before any of their men returned home from the north.

Gusty sighed and stared out the window at the mountains in
the distance until the sound of the door opening behind her brought her out of
her reverie. Clomping footsteps moved briskly across the room and she turned to
face her visitor.

“What shall we do today, Duncan?” Gusty asked from her seat
at the window.

“You promised to teach me a new language.” Duncan fairly
danced across the room in his excitement, perching himself upon the seat beside
her. He always acted more adult than child when he sought to comfort her. But
she had gotten to know him in these many months past and she recognized the
lonely little boy in him—one who was in need of a loving hand and caring heart.
Duncan missed his mother and father terribly.

“All right, it is a very simple language to learn,” Gusty
began.

“Is it the language you were speaking when we first met?”

His question took her by surprise. He’d never before
mentioned the first time they had met in the forest on Ross land.

“Well no, it is not that language but if you would like, I
will teach you to speak English better as well.”

“All right. But what will you teach me now?”

“It is called Pig Latin.” She suppressed a smile at the
little boy’s expression.

“Pig Latin? Are you going to teach me how to grunt and snort
then?” Duncan’s laughter filled the room and he nearly rolled off the bench as
he clutched his sides and roared his hilarity, apparently thinking she was
joking with him.

“No, my lad, Pig Latin is a little more complicated than
that. I know it sounds ridiculous but it is a language people use when they are
trying to disguise what they are saying from others who don’t also know Pig
Latin. It is a secret language really.”

Her words had him sobering up and he leaned toward her. She
smiled at his sudden earnestness.

“Teach me!” he demanded.

“All right but you must pay attention.”

At his nod she continued.

“Take the first letter of each word and put it at the end of
the word then add an
ay
sound.” At his confused expression she
demonstrated. “Your name would be uncan-Day, my name would be usty-Gay and
Violet would be iolet-Vay.”