Medieval 03 - Enchanted

“Where your Glendruid
heritage is concerned, Meggie, nothing is simple.”
    Meg shook her head. Golden bells sang and her long,
loosely plaited braids gleamed redly in the light.
    “I dreamed of two wolves, one black, one
tawny,” Meg said. “I dreamed of an oak with hazel eyes.
I dreamed of a harp that sang with a nightingale’s pure,
poignant notes while held within the arms of a golden knight. I
dreamed of a storm around all of them. An evil storm.”
    “’Tis no wonder Dominic is
restless,” Duncan said wryly.
    “Aye. Thomas the Strong guards Blackthorne
while we are away. Thomas is a loyal knight and a brave warrior,
but he is no leader of men. If winter bars our return and trouble
comes in our absence…”
    Cursing under his breath, Duncan raked blunt
fingers through his hair. In the firelight, scars from
long-forgotten battles gleamed palely across the back of his
hand.
    “You must return to Blackthorne Keep,”
Duncan said abruptly. “’Tis long enough you have spent
at Stone Ring Keep dealing with problems I’ve
caused.”
    “That isn’t what I meant,” Meg
protested.
    “I know. But ’tis true all the
same.”
    Duncan surged to his feet with a grace surprising
in a man so large. He looked into the fire for a moment.
    “I’ll send men-at-arms with you as far
as Carlysle Manor,” he said. “After that, you will be
safe. I’d go myself, but…”
    “Stone Ring Keep needs you,” Meg
finished for Duncan.
    “Aye. Especially with this thrice-damned
renegade knight preying upon the weak.”
    Duncan’s hands worked for a moment as though
feeling the chill weight of a battle hammer
sliding over his palms, coming into his grasp as though created
solely for him; and then the eerie hum of the hammer slicing deadly
circles from the air.
    “I’ll send word that your horses and
goods be ready at dawn,” Duncan said. “Dinna worry,
Meggie. We’ll care for Simon’s wife in his absence as
though she were one of our own. When Ariane is well, we will bring
her to Blackthorne and her husband.”
    Duncan didn’t doubt for an instant that Simon
would leave Stone Ring Keep with his lord and brother, Dominic. The
Glendruid Wolf had made no secret of how much he valued his
brother’s advice, companionship, and fighting skills.
    Simon, called the Loyal.
    Meg sighed and started to push herself to her
feet.
    “Stay by the fire,” Duncan said
quickly, going to her.
    “I have a patient to watch.”
    Duncan lifted Meg to her feet and smiled down at
her with real affection.
    “In better times,” Duncan said softly,
“you must take your Glendruid Wolf to the Stone Ring. The
rowan will bloom for the two of you, Meggie. I am as certain of it
as I am of my own heartbeat.”
    Meg’s smile was like sunshine, all warmth and
light. Standing on tiptoe, she touched Duncan’s cheek with
her lips.
    “We would like that,” she said.
    Still smiling, Meg climbed the stairs to
Ariane’s room. As expected, Cassandra was there, sitting by
the bed, embroidering a tiny garment.
    The bed curtains had been pulled, cutting off stray
drafts from the slit windows.
    “How is she?” Meg asked.
    “Asleep.”
    “Fever?”
    “None so far,” Cassandra said.
“Thank God for it.”
    “Is Simon on the battlements with
Dominic?”
    “Nay,” said a deep voice from behind
the bed curtains.
    Simon pulled one of the curtains aside in time to
catch the surprised look on Meg’s face.
    “Don’t worry,” he said.
“I’m careful not to harm her. But she is restless
unless I’m here.”
    Meg looked beyond Simon to where Ariane lay. She
was curled beneath the bed covers, her face toward Simon. The
violet dress lay like a bridge between man and wife.
    Frowning, Meg turned to Cassandra.
    “I don’t know your Learned healing
rituals,” Meg said, “but Glendruids are quite firm
about giving nothing to the patient that hasn’t first been
purified.”
    “Examine the dress,” Cassandra said.
“You will find it as pure as herbs, water and fire can make
anything.”
    “’Tis true,” Simon said. “I
went over the dress myself, for I know how particular you are about
such things.”
    Meg went to the bed. She picked up an edge of the
fabric, ran it lightly between her fingertips and sniffed. Slowly
she released the cloth. It fluttered down to rest once more against
Simon’s shoulder and Ariane’s cheek.
    “’Tis as though newly woven,” Meg
said, baffled.
    “Aye,” Cassandra said.
“Serena’s weavings are much