'Once upon a time on a green, green island' - Part Three
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
From part two:
"It's easy for you to propose something of the kind, sir. You are a man. Although I feel up to the challenge I could never do it. Being a woman can be kind of a prison." She sighed. "Do you know how lucky you are, sir? You are free in your decisions. There is absolutely no one to tell you what to do except God and the king and your local sovereign."
She was wrong. She was wrong and he had to tell her, now. Looking down and locking his gaze with hers, he softly and intensely replied: "Until yesterday I would have agreed. But today I find that my situation will never be the same again. There is someone who can order me. Sarah," he swallowed, "My heart..." He put his right hand to the left side of his chest. "My voice..." With his fingertips he touched his lower lip. "And my mind..." He brought his fingertips to his temple. "Are yours to command." His right hand closed to a fist, he put it to his left shoulder and inclined his head in silent submission before her.
When he looked up again, he found her eyes brimming with tears. "Harmon," she softly answered, making his heart beat frantically at her informal use of his name, "My mind..." She gently put her fingertips to her temple. "My voice..." She softly touched her lower lip. "And my heart..." She laid her right hand on the left side of her chest, never breaking the eye contact. "Are yours to possess." She held her hand out to him, her palm turned up.
Harmon's hand was trembling when his fingers encircled hers. They stood frozen in their position for several long minutes, lost in each other's eyes. Finally, she gently pulled her hand away, offering him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
"Good night, Harmon."
"Good night, Sarah."
She turned and entered the hall, excused herself from society, claiming she needed some sleep before going on their secret mission in the morning, and went upstairs. Laying down on her bed, the image of Harmon was the last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep.
Part Three: (The fairy tale continues...)
The sun hadn't yet risen when the five riders set off on their quest. The sky was a pale cobalt blue, passing through violet to a faint reddish glow somewhere near the horizon. The grass was wet with dew and the horses' breath hung in the chilly air, forming little clouds. All was silent. The silence was so intimidating that no one spoke, or even thought about speaking, and the only sounds were the soft taps of the horses' hooves on the path and the occasional soft whinnying.
They rode in single file, Father Chegwidden taking the lead on his trusty old mule. Then followed Aine as she knew where they were headed. Sarah rode in the middle, keeping contact to both ends of their file and passing on any information. Clayton had let Harmon go directly behind her, knowing his friend somehow needed to be near this lady. He had no idea just what had happened between the two of them the night before, but something must have. Harmon had been walking on air the whole evening. So he, Clayton had decided to ride last and watch out from behind.
Sarah was feeling increasingly uneasy. Harmon had given her no sign whatsoever that he remembered their conversation of the previous night. He had greeted her without a smile when they met, had not even so much as looked at her, and whenever she now turned around to pass on something that had been said in front he would sort of stare right through her and acknowledge with nothing but a short nod that he had understood. At first, Sarah had been thoroughly shaken by his odd behavior. A sudden flash of hurt had stung violently in her heart and only with a huge effort had she gulped down her rising tears.
Then, taking in the whole group, she had suddenly found the explanation. He was acting his role. Harmon and Clayton had been given simple brown woolen habits by Father Chegwidden who was a Franciscan. It had been more difficult to get the ladies equipped but Father Chegwidden had sent a trustworthy young friar on an express ride to the nearby monastery of Carmelites to get the necessary garments for them. The only problem was that Aine and Sarah, pretending to be Carmelites, would have to go barefooted. But it couldn't be helped.
Seeing Harmon put on his hood and adjust his girdle, Sarah became aware that he might just be trying to create a distance that would be necessary to make people believe that they were in fact who they pretended to be. Any personal interest displayed between friars and sisters would only create unwelcome attention. Adjusting her own behavior to those rules, Sarah had ridden off, feeling comforted. But as the hours crept on and on, doubts began to rise at the back of her mind if Sir Harmon might be sorry for what he had said to her the day before. Not having known real love and friendship until a year ago and being accustomed to trusting no one completely, Sarah's resolve to give Harmon the benefit of a doubt was melting away as quickly as the sun now rose in the east.
Harmon had at once sensed the slight change in Lady Sarah's attitude towards him. As they continued their journey, he was growing more and more desperate that he had no opportunity to set her mind at ease and make the hurt vanish from those beautiful eyes he had come to love. But he knew that their safety depended entirely on not being disclosed as who they were in reality, so he continued to ignore her best as he could. However, a little voice at the back of his mind kept telling him that he was using their cover as an excuse to ignore these feelings which had quickly grown into something unknown and frightening. 'If you really wanted to,' the little voice kept repeating, 'You would find a way to get to her without being obtrusive. You just don't dare to try.'
They had followed down the Barrow's shores for a couple of hours, careful to avoid any villages, stopping at a parsonage once for supplies. Father Chegwidden had carefully seen to it that they regularly held their obligatory prayers, just in case anyone was observing them. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Aine motioned for them to continue eastward, leaving the Barrow to their backs. The area they now came across was much less densely populated than the Barrow's valley. Woods and green fields alternated along their way. As they finally entered the woods once again, Father Chegwidden called them to a halt.
"I reckon we are far enough from any settlements that we can rest. If we want to spend the night, we will need to find shelter and make a fire." Sarah, what's the time?" The clergyman looked at his protégée.
"Almost five o'clock, father," came her immediate reply. Harmon cast her a puzzled glance that grew more puzzled still as, only a minute later, the bells of a faraway church tower could be heard tolling five.
"Milady, how do you do that?" Clayton asked in amazement.
Sarah smiled slightly. "I have always been able to do that." She would say no more.
Harmon knew that now, far away from civilization, would have been the right time and place to let Sarah know how he felt. But during all those hours of silent riding he had become rather accustomed to the behavior required of his role, and it was a lot easier than thinking about his feelings for Sarah, territory foreign to him until yesterday. So, almost out of a habit, he quickly averted his eyes when he met her glance.
All day, Sarah had been desperately waiting for this moment that would finally relieve her from her silent suffering. The feelings for the tall, dark-haired nobleman that she had discovered within herself were entirely new to her as well. She had never loved anyone this way in her life. These emotions were threatening to drown her, to suffocate her, to eat her up from inside if she couldn't get a hold of the anchor she needed - the certainty that Sir Harmon Rabb of Penzance felt the same for her.
When she saw him avert his eyes, now that there was no more need to do so, Sarah's world shattered to pieces. She had finally managed to convince herself that she might be a woman someone could in fact love, only to see that someone back away. Tired from the long ride and the continuous constant emotional struggle, she was now unable to fight her tears. Resolving that that no one should see her cry, she quickly turned, squared her shoulders and somehow managed to steady her voice.
"I will go gather some firewood." With that she quickly disappeared in the woods.
Father Chegwidden had busied himself with the horses a little farther away. As he returned to the group, he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene that was unfolding before him.
Even though Aine O'Meara had been riding in front of Sarah, she had become aware that strained tension had been building up high between the two riders behind her. She, too, had been waiting for the moment the tension would be allowed to finally dissolve. Now witnessing Harmon rejecting her best friend's beloved cousin in such a way, Aine lost her temper. She quickly stormed up to a startled Sir Harmon and furiously glared up into the much taller man's eyes.
"How dare you?" she shouted, her eyes sending daggers. "How dare you treat her like this after inducing her to let down her guard yesterday? I don't know what happened between the two of you but I've known Sarah Mackenzie for about a year now, and she would never, never let anyone get near her if she didn't for some reason trust him to not hurt her! There are very few people that she actually allows to come close. She decided to trust you and now you betray her like this! Shame on you, Harmon Rabb! You don't deserve her! And now you can have me punished me for being disrespectful to a nobleman!"
Utterly taken aback, Harmon watched the raging young woman in front of him as she took two long steadying breaths, cast him one last icy stare and walked away in the direction of their luggage. At a loss, Harmon looked at Clayton who had stood by quietly, watching.
"You heard her, Harm," was his sole comment.
"But Clay, what am I supposed to do? This is new to me! I couldn't possibly..."
Clayton only gave him an exasperated look and with a sigh went over to help Aine set up the camp.
Slowly it dawned on Harmon that his - by his judgment - little faux pas towards Sarah could have severe consequences for his own future happiness. Looking up and meeting Father Chegwidden's earnest gaze, he began to understand that establishing a relationship didn't end with admitting one's feelings. That was merely where it began. Fear started to rise inside him as Harmon came to the conclusion that only one thing could possibly straighten out this mess he had created. He would have to find Sarah and convince her somehow that he meant what he'd said the night before. And this time, he would do it with full knowledge of what it implied. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and set off in the direction Sarah had gone.
Aine was rummaging through their supplies, still fuming, tears blurring her vision. True, she hadn't known Sarah for a long time, but she knew that her best friend, Harriet, adored her, and Aine herself had come to like her very much in the course of the last year. She had always wished someone would show up and grant Sarah a second chance at true personal happiness. She deserved it so much. And Aine had been as rapturous as Harriet when she sensed the instant chemistry between Sarah and Sir Harmon who had seemed an honorable and sensitive man. Until now. It wasn't fair. Sniffling, Aine quickly wiped away an angry tear and continued her search for she didn't know what. Suddenly she heard someone clear his throat next to her.
"Excuse me, Miss O'Meara, may I offer you my handkerchief?" Clayton politely asked, wanting to be of service.
She turned to face him, smiling embarrassedly. "I apologize for my behavior, sir. It was uncalled for."
Not thinking about what he was doing, Clayton, with a half-smile, reached out and gently dried the tears on her cheeks with his handkerchief. Only after a few moments he suddenly became aware of what he was doing and, with a startled glance, took his hand away, looking down uneasily.
"Thank you," Aine said quietly.
"You're welcome, Miss O'Meara," Clayton said in an even lower voice, tentatively meeting her eyes and finding her smiling at him. He studied her face for a moment, before confusedly turning and joining Father Chegwidden with what he was doing.
"Thank you for sparing me from having to play the angry preacher, Miss O'Meara," Father Chegwidden said, never interrupting his work.
Harmon had been searching the woods for quite some time when he found her. Sarah was sitting on a huge stone, a small pile of firewood scattered at her feet, her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently. The sight tore at Harmon's heart. And what hurt more still was the knowledge that he was to blame. Careful not to scare her, he made his way up to her and kneeled down beside her.
"Please forgive me," he said, his voice not entirely even. "This is new to me. I don't know how to act on it."
Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice. She looked at him, hurt and mistrust shining in her eyes. "You seemed to know yesterday," she answered warily.
"I didn't," he replied, looking down. "I acted on intuition."
Sarah's heart suffered another sting of pain. So his admission had come from an impulse of the moment. And the feelings had passed just as quickly. Forcing down the urge to again let her tears flow, she inwardly closed up, determined to save her dignity. "I see. I am willing to forget whatever happened if that is what you want, sir."
'Wrong way again, Harm. Great job you're doing there.' "No!" It almost came out as a cry. Startled, she looked up at him. Trembling, he took her hands in his. "No," he repeated softly, "I don't want to forget what I said because..." He swallowed heavily. "Because I meant it. I do still."
"How do I know you do?" she asked sadly, her eyes searching his for the truth she needed.
"Let me prove it to you, Sarah," he gently pleaded. "I imagine you may find it hard to trust me right now. But I can live with that if I know that you'll give me the benefit of a doubt and let me wait for my chance to prove that what I said is true. Do I ask too much?" Subconsciously chewing his lower lip, he waited for his predicament.
She looked at him with a thoughtful half-smile, tears still threatening. "I guess I can do that, Harmon." She gave his hands a quick, shy squeeze.
Harmon let go of her hands, stood up and turned to leave, sensing Sarah needed some time alone to come to terms with her feelings. After a few steps he stopped to look back and found her watching him. He silently brought his right hand to his heart, to his lips and then to his temple, afterwards making a fist and laying it on his left shoulder, bowing his head. 'My heart, my voice and my mind are yours to command, Sarah. Always.'
Sarah held her breath as she silently returned the gesture the same way she had yesterday. With her right hand, she touched her temple, her lips and her chest and then shyly, silently, held the hand out towards him. 'Even though you hurt me, Harmon, I forgive you, as my mind, my voice and my heart will always be yours to possess.'
He cast her a silent smile and, to his relief, found her smiling in return, a little unsure, but smiling all the same. As he turned and walked away, Sarah let out a sigh, clueless as to how she should feel.
They spent the night on a small clearing that was situated a good deal away from the path they had been following through the woods. Per a silent agreement, personal issues weren't brought up anymore, and Aine, Clayton and Father Chegwidden noted, relieved, that a little of the earlier tension had dissipated. Harmon and Sarah even smiled when they exchanged a shy "Good night."
Early the next morning, they set off again, still heading eastward, until around three o'clock in the afternoon when they reached the coast. There was no sign of Palmer's army. Aine pointed out that she might have overheard that their main camp might be situated about five miles south from where they were. They decided to split up in order to gather more information. Father Chegwidden would try to get in touch with any clergyman that might be traveling with Palmer's troops. Harmon and Sarah were to ride to the shore, trying to find out where the king's ships could land and what defenses Palmer had set up against them. Clayton and Aine would try to gather information on the numbers and weapons of Palmer's army. They would meet again at nightfall when Harmon and Clayton would embark on a fishing boat they had hired in order to reach King Edward's army at the Welsh land's end in the shelter of the darkness.
Harmon and Sarah were walking along the beach, side by side, careful to maintain a proper distance from each other. Their horses were trudging behind them as the friar and the sister with a huge sack went from one fisherman's house to another, collecting alms. People would eye them suspiciously at first, but as their garments were authentic and both, being educated, played their roles very well, they'd eventually believe them and even answer their cautious and seemingly casual questions about the ongoing preparations.
It seemed that Palmer had all possible landing spots thoroughly covered with 'welcoming parties'. Harmon's worry was steadily increasing about what to tell the king where to direct his ships. "If we don't come up with a solution to this problem, I wouldn't know how to get the royal troops safely to your rescue, milady," he told Sarah with a sigh and a frown when they had left yet another house with the information of yet another small bay already equipped with Palmer's personnel.
"Maybe we should ask differently. They might know of a way to land on the shore that we didn't think of," she suggested, not really convinced.
He smiled slightly. "Maybe we should just pray."
Once again she found his smile contagious. "That could work. But I vote the first option." She smiled back mischievously. Slowly, very slowly they were becoming comfortable with each other again. And though none of them alluded to it, both were well aware of the gradual change and felt more relieved than they would admit.
They had arrived at the doorstep of a house that stood a little deserted. Their knocks were instantly answered by a smirking redhead in his early forties, Sarah estimated.
"Come on in," he greeted them conspiratorially, grinning, "We've been expecting you."
Sarah and Harmon exchanged a puzzled glance, but nevertheless followed the man inside. He had them sit down and offered them a cup of cold milk. "I'm Bryan Robinson. You know, my brother John is the priest of the local church and he just dropped by, telling me that a Father Chegwidden had come to see him. He instantly recognized him as an enemy to this bastard Palmer and hinted that our family's been sabotaging Palmer's people whenever they get an opportunity. I know those are all little things, but seeing one of them upset always makes me feel fine. So I keep doing it. And imagine how we feel, now that we have the opportunity to really get back to him for good by helping you!" Robinson was excitedly pacing up and down in front of the table where Harmon and Sarah were seated.
Another quick smile passed between the visitors. "Then you might be aware where our main problem lies," Harmon ventured carefully, trying not to give away too much but on the other hand hoping they had indeed found an ally.
"I don't know for sure, but I guess you're trying to find a way to get your people over here safely," Robinson said, still grinning excitedly. "I tell you something, sir. If I understood correctly what Father Chegwidden told my brother, you and your friend will cross over tonight. Tell the king to bring forth his troops by nightfall tomorrow. They must head a little northwest. If they stay on a straight course set between the Pleiades and the W of Cassiopeia, they reach a part of the coast where Palmer doesn't expect them to land. There are too many cliffs and underwater rocks and currents to do it safely, if," he smirked, "You don't know where to go. I do, though. I'll meet them with my boat about half a mile from the coast and will guide the ships to a rather large bay that would be ideal to land in. Only no one does because they can't get past the cliffs. But I can. And Palmer doesn't know that!" Robinson was enjoying this immensely, Sarah and Harmon could tell.
Smiling slightly, Harmon stood and shook the fisherman's hand. "I thank you immensely, Mr. Robinson. You probably just saved your people." Then, sobering and straightening, his glance suddenly displaying a burden of duty and responsibility that Sarah had never yet detected in his eyes, Harmon added something neither Robinson nor Sarah would have expected. "In the name of all Leinster, I thank you for your service. Be assured that you will be rewarded once law and order are restored to the lands."
"Oh my God..." Robinson muttered, instantly getting down on one knee and bowing his head. "I am honored by your trust, milord. I solemnly swear I shan't betray it."
"I know you won't. Meet our fleet tomorrow night then, half a mile from the coast, and be sure to signal to them. But with the navigation instructions you supplied you should be able to meet them. God bless you, Robinson." With that, Harmon gathered the sack, silently motioned for Sarah to follow him and left the humble abode.
Sarah needed several minutes to recover from her shock. So that was what Harmon had been enigmatically referring to when he had mentioned their 'secret weapon'. Sir Harmon Rabb of Penzance was none less than the rightful heir of the Leinster lands! Utterly confused, Sarah stepped up in front of him and sank into a deep curtsy before her sovereign. "Milord..." was all she could say.
"Please rise, we aren't at the royal court right now," Harmon replied, a little embarrassed. "Lady Sarah, I feel I need to apologize for not confiding in you earlier," he immediately went on, fear rising that she would only back away further from him now. "But Sir Clayton and I first wanted to make sure whom we could trust. You two and Robinson are the only ones who know, now. To be honest, until about four months ago, I didn't know either that the task would fall on me. But one day a royal messenger showed up at Penzance castle, ordering me to follow him to London. There I was shown documents that prove that my Irish mother was in fact the daughter of one of William Marshall's five great-great-great-grandchildren who lived to grow up. It seems she was an illegitimate child and her mother sent her to live with a foster family in England. None of the remaining Marshalls lived through the troubles. So here I am..." He smiled a little helplessly, obviously unsure what to think of his position.
Sarah sensed that Harmon was in desperate need of all the support he could possibly get for his new position. So, rising, she looked up at him with a gentle smile. "Milord, I know I can speak for my entire family that we would be honored and willing to continue the long tradition of advising and counseling that has always been the basis for the bond between the Marshalls and the O'Haras, who faithfully served them for centuries. Be assured of our unlimited loyalty and assistance."
She started when he took her hands in his. "You can't be aware just how much I appreciate your offer. I gladly accept. But," he swallowed, averted his eyes for a moment as if he couldn't bear her glance on him, but then forced them back again to meet hers, his expression unreadable. "What I need most to keep me going, to help me succeed in the enormous tasks that lie before me, is a loyal hand and heart at my side. Someone to support me when all threatens to overwhelm me, to give me strength when I falter, and to be my shelter when I need a place to rest. Someone to comfort me when things get rough and, most of all, someone who makes all this worth taking and enduring, in the knowledge that I do it for her and for our children. Sarah, would you do me the immense honor of taking that very place at my side?" Harmon again swallowed heavily and desperately searched her eyes for a hint at how she would answer.
Conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. 'Yesterday he betrayed your trust,' Sarah thought, her heart racing. 'But he apologized and swore to prove himself worthy of it.' She had no idea why, but against her better judgment, she was again ready to trust him. Somehow she was sure he had been honest when he confessed he did not fully know how to act on those new feelings. This would place the two of them in a similar situation. And this being the case, she came to understand what had led him to push her away the day before. Maybe together they could face their emotions, one being the rock for the other to lean on. Her voice told of rising tears when she finally answered. "I don't think it will always be easy but if you are willing to take me as I am, I gladly consent, milord."
"My Sarah..." he whispered in awe, slowly closing the distance and meeting her lips in a feather-light kiss. "Once I get back, I will speak with your uncle," he promised when he broke the contact.
"I will pray for your safe return, Harmon," was all she said, looking up to him, love shining in her eyes that was fully mirrored in his. Silently they set off for the meeting point.
They didn't give the slightest sign of what had happened when they met with their friends. A quick exchange of information made it clear that obviously Palmer had far less men awaiting the royal fleet than they would have thought. Somehow this information was unnerving. Something was up. Still, Clayton was enormously relieved when Harmon told the group of the arrangements that had been made for the landing of the royal ships.
When darkness had finally set in, they went over to the shore and met with the fishermen that were hired to take the knights to the Welsh coast. Father Chegwidden spoke a quick blessing, took their horses' reins and left them alone.
"Promise me to be careful, Miss O'Meara," Clayton heard himself say with far too much concern for his liking. "We need your services with Lady Lauren," he added gruffly, not really succeeding in covering his former display of emotions.
"I promise," Aine simply replied with a sincere smile.
"God bless you, Harmon," Sarah said quietly.
"And you, Sarah."
The two knights stepped onto the small boat that would take them to the larger ship anchored at sea. As the boat was being pushed into the waves, Harmon turned and, with a smile, brought his right hand to his heart, his lips and his temple, afterwards bowing with his fist on his left shoulder.
As Aine and Clayton watched Sarah smile back, her right hand touching her temple, her lips and her chest and subsequently holding her hand out towards him, they instantly decided that they didn't really need to know the deeper meaning of the gestures.
Aine and Sarah were watching in silence as the little boat disappeared, lost in thoughts until suddenly they became aware of Father Chegwidden rushing up to them, a frightening pallor on his face.
"What is it, father?" Sarah asked, concerned.
The priest very earnestly looked at them. "Ladies, we have no home to return to. Baron O'Hara's castle is right now under siege by the larger part of Lord Palmer's army."
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
From part two:
"It's easy for you to propose something of the kind, sir. You are a man. Although I feel up to the challenge I could never do it. Being a woman can be kind of a prison." She sighed. "Do you know how lucky you are, sir? You are free in your decisions. There is absolutely no one to tell you what to do except God and the king and your local sovereign."
She was wrong. She was wrong and he had to tell her, now. Looking down and locking his gaze with hers, he softly and intensely replied: "Until yesterday I would have agreed. But today I find that my situation will never be the same again. There is someone who can order me. Sarah," he swallowed, "My heart..." He put his right hand to the left side of his chest. "My voice..." With his fingertips he touched his lower lip. "And my mind..." He brought his fingertips to his temple. "Are yours to command." His right hand closed to a fist, he put it to his left shoulder and inclined his head in silent submission before her.
When he looked up again, he found her eyes brimming with tears. "Harmon," she softly answered, making his heart beat frantically at her informal use of his name, "My mind..." She gently put her fingertips to her temple. "My voice..." She softly touched her lower lip. "And my heart..." She laid her right hand on the left side of her chest, never breaking the eye contact. "Are yours to possess." She held her hand out to him, her palm turned up.
Harmon's hand was trembling when his fingers encircled hers. They stood frozen in their position for several long minutes, lost in each other's eyes. Finally, she gently pulled her hand away, offering him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
"Good night, Harmon."
"Good night, Sarah."
She turned and entered the hall, excused herself from society, claiming she needed some sleep before going on their secret mission in the morning, and went upstairs. Laying down on her bed, the image of Harmon was the last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep.
Part Three: (The fairy tale continues...)
The sun hadn't yet risen when the five riders set off on their quest. The sky was a pale cobalt blue, passing through violet to a faint reddish glow somewhere near the horizon. The grass was wet with dew and the horses' breath hung in the chilly air, forming little clouds. All was silent. The silence was so intimidating that no one spoke, or even thought about speaking, and the only sounds were the soft taps of the horses' hooves on the path and the occasional soft whinnying.
They rode in single file, Father Chegwidden taking the lead on his trusty old mule. Then followed Aine as she knew where they were headed. Sarah rode in the middle, keeping contact to both ends of their file and passing on any information. Clayton had let Harmon go directly behind her, knowing his friend somehow needed to be near this lady. He had no idea just what had happened between the two of them the night before, but something must have. Harmon had been walking on air the whole evening. So he, Clayton had decided to ride last and watch out from behind.
Sarah was feeling increasingly uneasy. Harmon had given her no sign whatsoever that he remembered their conversation of the previous night. He had greeted her without a smile when they met, had not even so much as looked at her, and whenever she now turned around to pass on something that had been said in front he would sort of stare right through her and acknowledge with nothing but a short nod that he had understood. At first, Sarah had been thoroughly shaken by his odd behavior. A sudden flash of hurt had stung violently in her heart and only with a huge effort had she gulped down her rising tears.
Then, taking in the whole group, she had suddenly found the explanation. He was acting his role. Harmon and Clayton had been given simple brown woolen habits by Father Chegwidden who was a Franciscan. It had been more difficult to get the ladies equipped but Father Chegwidden had sent a trustworthy young friar on an express ride to the nearby monastery of Carmelites to get the necessary garments for them. The only problem was that Aine and Sarah, pretending to be Carmelites, would have to go barefooted. But it couldn't be helped.
Seeing Harmon put on his hood and adjust his girdle, Sarah became aware that he might just be trying to create a distance that would be necessary to make people believe that they were in fact who they pretended to be. Any personal interest displayed between friars and sisters would only create unwelcome attention. Adjusting her own behavior to those rules, Sarah had ridden off, feeling comforted. But as the hours crept on and on, doubts began to rise at the back of her mind if Sir Harmon might be sorry for what he had said to her the day before. Not having known real love and friendship until a year ago and being accustomed to trusting no one completely, Sarah's resolve to give Harmon the benefit of a doubt was melting away as quickly as the sun now rose in the east.
Harmon had at once sensed the slight change in Lady Sarah's attitude towards him. As they continued their journey, he was growing more and more desperate that he had no opportunity to set her mind at ease and make the hurt vanish from those beautiful eyes he had come to love. But he knew that their safety depended entirely on not being disclosed as who they were in reality, so he continued to ignore her best as he could. However, a little voice at the back of his mind kept telling him that he was using their cover as an excuse to ignore these feelings which had quickly grown into something unknown and frightening. 'If you really wanted to,' the little voice kept repeating, 'You would find a way to get to her without being obtrusive. You just don't dare to try.'
They had followed down the Barrow's shores for a couple of hours, careful to avoid any villages, stopping at a parsonage once for supplies. Father Chegwidden had carefully seen to it that they regularly held their obligatory prayers, just in case anyone was observing them. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Aine motioned for them to continue eastward, leaving the Barrow to their backs. The area they now came across was much less densely populated than the Barrow's valley. Woods and green fields alternated along their way. As they finally entered the woods once again, Father Chegwidden called them to a halt.
"I reckon we are far enough from any settlements that we can rest. If we want to spend the night, we will need to find shelter and make a fire." Sarah, what's the time?" The clergyman looked at his protégée.
"Almost five o'clock, father," came her immediate reply. Harmon cast her a puzzled glance that grew more puzzled still as, only a minute later, the bells of a faraway church tower could be heard tolling five.
"Milady, how do you do that?" Clayton asked in amazement.
Sarah smiled slightly. "I have always been able to do that." She would say no more.
Harmon knew that now, far away from civilization, would have been the right time and place to let Sarah know how he felt. But during all those hours of silent riding he had become rather accustomed to the behavior required of his role, and it was a lot easier than thinking about his feelings for Sarah, territory foreign to him until yesterday. So, almost out of a habit, he quickly averted his eyes when he met her glance.
All day, Sarah had been desperately waiting for this moment that would finally relieve her from her silent suffering. The feelings for the tall, dark-haired nobleman that she had discovered within herself were entirely new to her as well. She had never loved anyone this way in her life. These emotions were threatening to drown her, to suffocate her, to eat her up from inside if she couldn't get a hold of the anchor she needed - the certainty that Sir Harmon Rabb of Penzance felt the same for her.
When she saw him avert his eyes, now that there was no more need to do so, Sarah's world shattered to pieces. She had finally managed to convince herself that she might be a woman someone could in fact love, only to see that someone back away. Tired from the long ride and the continuous constant emotional struggle, she was now unable to fight her tears. Resolving that that no one should see her cry, she quickly turned, squared her shoulders and somehow managed to steady her voice.
"I will go gather some firewood." With that she quickly disappeared in the woods.
Father Chegwidden had busied himself with the horses a little farther away. As he returned to the group, he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene that was unfolding before him.
Even though Aine O'Meara had been riding in front of Sarah, she had become aware that strained tension had been building up high between the two riders behind her. She, too, had been waiting for the moment the tension would be allowed to finally dissolve. Now witnessing Harmon rejecting her best friend's beloved cousin in such a way, Aine lost her temper. She quickly stormed up to a startled Sir Harmon and furiously glared up into the much taller man's eyes.
"How dare you?" she shouted, her eyes sending daggers. "How dare you treat her like this after inducing her to let down her guard yesterday? I don't know what happened between the two of you but I've known Sarah Mackenzie for about a year now, and she would never, never let anyone get near her if she didn't for some reason trust him to not hurt her! There are very few people that she actually allows to come close. She decided to trust you and now you betray her like this! Shame on you, Harmon Rabb! You don't deserve her! And now you can have me punished me for being disrespectful to a nobleman!"
Utterly taken aback, Harmon watched the raging young woman in front of him as she took two long steadying breaths, cast him one last icy stare and walked away in the direction of their luggage. At a loss, Harmon looked at Clayton who had stood by quietly, watching.
"You heard her, Harm," was his sole comment.
"But Clay, what am I supposed to do? This is new to me! I couldn't possibly..."
Clayton only gave him an exasperated look and with a sigh went over to help Aine set up the camp.
Slowly it dawned on Harmon that his - by his judgment - little faux pas towards Sarah could have severe consequences for his own future happiness. Looking up and meeting Father Chegwidden's earnest gaze, he began to understand that establishing a relationship didn't end with admitting one's feelings. That was merely where it began. Fear started to rise inside him as Harmon came to the conclusion that only one thing could possibly straighten out this mess he had created. He would have to find Sarah and convince her somehow that he meant what he'd said the night before. And this time, he would do it with full knowledge of what it implied. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and set off in the direction Sarah had gone.
Aine was rummaging through their supplies, still fuming, tears blurring her vision. True, she hadn't known Sarah for a long time, but she knew that her best friend, Harriet, adored her, and Aine herself had come to like her very much in the course of the last year. She had always wished someone would show up and grant Sarah a second chance at true personal happiness. She deserved it so much. And Aine had been as rapturous as Harriet when she sensed the instant chemistry between Sarah and Sir Harmon who had seemed an honorable and sensitive man. Until now. It wasn't fair. Sniffling, Aine quickly wiped away an angry tear and continued her search for she didn't know what. Suddenly she heard someone clear his throat next to her.
"Excuse me, Miss O'Meara, may I offer you my handkerchief?" Clayton politely asked, wanting to be of service.
She turned to face him, smiling embarrassedly. "I apologize for my behavior, sir. It was uncalled for."
Not thinking about what he was doing, Clayton, with a half-smile, reached out and gently dried the tears on her cheeks with his handkerchief. Only after a few moments he suddenly became aware of what he was doing and, with a startled glance, took his hand away, looking down uneasily.
"Thank you," Aine said quietly.
"You're welcome, Miss O'Meara," Clayton said in an even lower voice, tentatively meeting her eyes and finding her smiling at him. He studied her face for a moment, before confusedly turning and joining Father Chegwidden with what he was doing.
"Thank you for sparing me from having to play the angry preacher, Miss O'Meara," Father Chegwidden said, never interrupting his work.
Harmon had been searching the woods for quite some time when he found her. Sarah was sitting on a huge stone, a small pile of firewood scattered at her feet, her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently. The sight tore at Harmon's heart. And what hurt more still was the knowledge that he was to blame. Careful not to scare her, he made his way up to her and kneeled down beside her.
"Please forgive me," he said, his voice not entirely even. "This is new to me. I don't know how to act on it."
Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice. She looked at him, hurt and mistrust shining in her eyes. "You seemed to know yesterday," she answered warily.
"I didn't," he replied, looking down. "I acted on intuition."
Sarah's heart suffered another sting of pain. So his admission had come from an impulse of the moment. And the feelings had passed just as quickly. Forcing down the urge to again let her tears flow, she inwardly closed up, determined to save her dignity. "I see. I am willing to forget whatever happened if that is what you want, sir."
'Wrong way again, Harm. Great job you're doing there.' "No!" It almost came out as a cry. Startled, she looked up at him. Trembling, he took her hands in his. "No," he repeated softly, "I don't want to forget what I said because..." He swallowed heavily. "Because I meant it. I do still."
"How do I know you do?" she asked sadly, her eyes searching his for the truth she needed.
"Let me prove it to you, Sarah," he gently pleaded. "I imagine you may find it hard to trust me right now. But I can live with that if I know that you'll give me the benefit of a doubt and let me wait for my chance to prove that what I said is true. Do I ask too much?" Subconsciously chewing his lower lip, he waited for his predicament.
She looked at him with a thoughtful half-smile, tears still threatening. "I guess I can do that, Harmon." She gave his hands a quick, shy squeeze.
Harmon let go of her hands, stood up and turned to leave, sensing Sarah needed some time alone to come to terms with her feelings. After a few steps he stopped to look back and found her watching him. He silently brought his right hand to his heart, to his lips and then to his temple, afterwards making a fist and laying it on his left shoulder, bowing his head. 'My heart, my voice and my mind are yours to command, Sarah. Always.'
Sarah held her breath as she silently returned the gesture the same way she had yesterday. With her right hand, she touched her temple, her lips and her chest and then shyly, silently, held the hand out towards him. 'Even though you hurt me, Harmon, I forgive you, as my mind, my voice and my heart will always be yours to possess.'
He cast her a silent smile and, to his relief, found her smiling in return, a little unsure, but smiling all the same. As he turned and walked away, Sarah let out a sigh, clueless as to how she should feel.
They spent the night on a small clearing that was situated a good deal away from the path they had been following through the woods. Per a silent agreement, personal issues weren't brought up anymore, and Aine, Clayton and Father Chegwidden noted, relieved, that a little of the earlier tension had dissipated. Harmon and Sarah even smiled when they exchanged a shy "Good night."
Early the next morning, they set off again, still heading eastward, until around three o'clock in the afternoon when they reached the coast. There was no sign of Palmer's army. Aine pointed out that she might have overheard that their main camp might be situated about five miles south from where they were. They decided to split up in order to gather more information. Father Chegwidden would try to get in touch with any clergyman that might be traveling with Palmer's troops. Harmon and Sarah were to ride to the shore, trying to find out where the king's ships could land and what defenses Palmer had set up against them. Clayton and Aine would try to gather information on the numbers and weapons of Palmer's army. They would meet again at nightfall when Harmon and Clayton would embark on a fishing boat they had hired in order to reach King Edward's army at the Welsh land's end in the shelter of the darkness.
Harmon and Sarah were walking along the beach, side by side, careful to maintain a proper distance from each other. Their horses were trudging behind them as the friar and the sister with a huge sack went from one fisherman's house to another, collecting alms. People would eye them suspiciously at first, but as their garments were authentic and both, being educated, played their roles very well, they'd eventually believe them and even answer their cautious and seemingly casual questions about the ongoing preparations.
It seemed that Palmer had all possible landing spots thoroughly covered with 'welcoming parties'. Harmon's worry was steadily increasing about what to tell the king where to direct his ships. "If we don't come up with a solution to this problem, I wouldn't know how to get the royal troops safely to your rescue, milady," he told Sarah with a sigh and a frown when they had left yet another house with the information of yet another small bay already equipped with Palmer's personnel.
"Maybe we should ask differently. They might know of a way to land on the shore that we didn't think of," she suggested, not really convinced.
He smiled slightly. "Maybe we should just pray."
Once again she found his smile contagious. "That could work. But I vote the first option." She smiled back mischievously. Slowly, very slowly they were becoming comfortable with each other again. And though none of them alluded to it, both were well aware of the gradual change and felt more relieved than they would admit.
They had arrived at the doorstep of a house that stood a little deserted. Their knocks were instantly answered by a smirking redhead in his early forties, Sarah estimated.
"Come on in," he greeted them conspiratorially, grinning, "We've been expecting you."
Sarah and Harmon exchanged a puzzled glance, but nevertheless followed the man inside. He had them sit down and offered them a cup of cold milk. "I'm Bryan Robinson. You know, my brother John is the priest of the local church and he just dropped by, telling me that a Father Chegwidden had come to see him. He instantly recognized him as an enemy to this bastard Palmer and hinted that our family's been sabotaging Palmer's people whenever they get an opportunity. I know those are all little things, but seeing one of them upset always makes me feel fine. So I keep doing it. And imagine how we feel, now that we have the opportunity to really get back to him for good by helping you!" Robinson was excitedly pacing up and down in front of the table where Harmon and Sarah were seated.
Another quick smile passed between the visitors. "Then you might be aware where our main problem lies," Harmon ventured carefully, trying not to give away too much but on the other hand hoping they had indeed found an ally.
"I don't know for sure, but I guess you're trying to find a way to get your people over here safely," Robinson said, still grinning excitedly. "I tell you something, sir. If I understood correctly what Father Chegwidden told my brother, you and your friend will cross over tonight. Tell the king to bring forth his troops by nightfall tomorrow. They must head a little northwest. If they stay on a straight course set between the Pleiades and the W of Cassiopeia, they reach a part of the coast where Palmer doesn't expect them to land. There are too many cliffs and underwater rocks and currents to do it safely, if," he smirked, "You don't know where to go. I do, though. I'll meet them with my boat about half a mile from the coast and will guide the ships to a rather large bay that would be ideal to land in. Only no one does because they can't get past the cliffs. But I can. And Palmer doesn't know that!" Robinson was enjoying this immensely, Sarah and Harmon could tell.
Smiling slightly, Harmon stood and shook the fisherman's hand. "I thank you immensely, Mr. Robinson. You probably just saved your people." Then, sobering and straightening, his glance suddenly displaying a burden of duty and responsibility that Sarah had never yet detected in his eyes, Harmon added something neither Robinson nor Sarah would have expected. "In the name of all Leinster, I thank you for your service. Be assured that you will be rewarded once law and order are restored to the lands."
"Oh my God..." Robinson muttered, instantly getting down on one knee and bowing his head. "I am honored by your trust, milord. I solemnly swear I shan't betray it."
"I know you won't. Meet our fleet tomorrow night then, half a mile from the coast, and be sure to signal to them. But with the navigation instructions you supplied you should be able to meet them. God bless you, Robinson." With that, Harmon gathered the sack, silently motioned for Sarah to follow him and left the humble abode.
Sarah needed several minutes to recover from her shock. So that was what Harmon had been enigmatically referring to when he had mentioned their 'secret weapon'. Sir Harmon Rabb of Penzance was none less than the rightful heir of the Leinster lands! Utterly confused, Sarah stepped up in front of him and sank into a deep curtsy before her sovereign. "Milord..." was all she could say.
"Please rise, we aren't at the royal court right now," Harmon replied, a little embarrassed. "Lady Sarah, I feel I need to apologize for not confiding in you earlier," he immediately went on, fear rising that she would only back away further from him now. "But Sir Clayton and I first wanted to make sure whom we could trust. You two and Robinson are the only ones who know, now. To be honest, until about four months ago, I didn't know either that the task would fall on me. But one day a royal messenger showed up at Penzance castle, ordering me to follow him to London. There I was shown documents that prove that my Irish mother was in fact the daughter of one of William Marshall's five great-great-great-grandchildren who lived to grow up. It seems she was an illegitimate child and her mother sent her to live with a foster family in England. None of the remaining Marshalls lived through the troubles. So here I am..." He smiled a little helplessly, obviously unsure what to think of his position.
Sarah sensed that Harmon was in desperate need of all the support he could possibly get for his new position. So, rising, she looked up at him with a gentle smile. "Milord, I know I can speak for my entire family that we would be honored and willing to continue the long tradition of advising and counseling that has always been the basis for the bond between the Marshalls and the O'Haras, who faithfully served them for centuries. Be assured of our unlimited loyalty and assistance."
She started when he took her hands in his. "You can't be aware just how much I appreciate your offer. I gladly accept. But," he swallowed, averted his eyes for a moment as if he couldn't bear her glance on him, but then forced them back again to meet hers, his expression unreadable. "What I need most to keep me going, to help me succeed in the enormous tasks that lie before me, is a loyal hand and heart at my side. Someone to support me when all threatens to overwhelm me, to give me strength when I falter, and to be my shelter when I need a place to rest. Someone to comfort me when things get rough and, most of all, someone who makes all this worth taking and enduring, in the knowledge that I do it for her and for our children. Sarah, would you do me the immense honor of taking that very place at my side?" Harmon again swallowed heavily and desperately searched her eyes for a hint at how she would answer.
Conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. 'Yesterday he betrayed your trust,' Sarah thought, her heart racing. 'But he apologized and swore to prove himself worthy of it.' She had no idea why, but against her better judgment, she was again ready to trust him. Somehow she was sure he had been honest when he confessed he did not fully know how to act on those new feelings. This would place the two of them in a similar situation. And this being the case, she came to understand what had led him to push her away the day before. Maybe together they could face their emotions, one being the rock for the other to lean on. Her voice told of rising tears when she finally answered. "I don't think it will always be easy but if you are willing to take me as I am, I gladly consent, milord."
"My Sarah..." he whispered in awe, slowly closing the distance and meeting her lips in a feather-light kiss. "Once I get back, I will speak with your uncle," he promised when he broke the contact.
"I will pray for your safe return, Harmon," was all she said, looking up to him, love shining in her eyes that was fully mirrored in his. Silently they set off for the meeting point.
They didn't give the slightest sign of what had happened when they met with their friends. A quick exchange of information made it clear that obviously Palmer had far less men awaiting the royal fleet than they would have thought. Somehow this information was unnerving. Something was up. Still, Clayton was enormously relieved when Harmon told the group of the arrangements that had been made for the landing of the royal ships.
When darkness had finally set in, they went over to the shore and met with the fishermen that were hired to take the knights to the Welsh coast. Father Chegwidden spoke a quick blessing, took their horses' reins and left them alone.
"Promise me to be careful, Miss O'Meara," Clayton heard himself say with far too much concern for his liking. "We need your services with Lady Lauren," he added gruffly, not really succeeding in covering his former display of emotions.
"I promise," Aine simply replied with a sincere smile.
"God bless you, Harmon," Sarah said quietly.
"And you, Sarah."
The two knights stepped onto the small boat that would take them to the larger ship anchored at sea. As the boat was being pushed into the waves, Harmon turned and, with a smile, brought his right hand to his heart, his lips and his temple, afterwards bowing with his fist on his left shoulder.
As Aine and Clayton watched Sarah smile back, her right hand touching her temple, her lips and her chest and subsequently holding her hand out towards him, they instantly decided that they didn't really need to know the deeper meaning of the gestures.
Aine and Sarah were watching in silence as the little boat disappeared, lost in thoughts until suddenly they became aware of Father Chegwidden rushing up to them, a frightening pallor on his face.
"What is it, father?" Sarah asked, concerned.
The priest very earnestly looked at them. "Ladies, we have no home to return to. Baron O'Hara's castle is right now under siege by the larger part of Lord Palmer's army."
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)