Calmarien Castle, Scotland
April, 2004
Damn, if the man didn't facinate her.
'Too bad he's been dead for nearly five hundred years.' Relena Darlian studied the painting hanging in the gallery of Calmerian Castle. A dangerous emotion showed in the knight's deep cobalt blue eyes, as if he dared the Peacecraft heir to step closer. The sneer lifting his mouth accented the legendary two inch scar along his right cheek. In contrast to the other portraits of men in his time, who'd curled and waxed their hair, this man's brown mane had been allowed to grow wild, shading his eyes.
The only hint of wealth came from a jeweled belt wrapped around the breeches he wore. If one looked closely, they could read the words, 'Yuy, A Tiger Rampant', on the belt in black letters. Relena felt the overwhelming need to not only take the dare and touch the painting, but the man as well.
Each time she visited her grandparents at Calmerian, she was unable to pass the painting without sensing the knight's gaze on her, following her every move, giving her the eerie feeling he wanted to talk with her. The hair on her nape prickled.What would the knight say if he could? Would his voice be refind, like an educated lord, or harsh and commanding, like a knight inured to hardships and suffering? She guessed the latter. She'd never meet him, but even so, she knew what she'd ask. Why did the knight seem so angry? She blew out a breath, knowing she'd never know for sure.
'And why do I care?' She shook his head. It was certainly time she ended this fixation with the long-dead lord, but, she reasoned, fantasizing about him seemed safer than taking a risk with the men of her own time. He couldn't ask things of her or expect more than she could deliver.
As Relena pushed away from the stone wall, a shrill voice broke the silence. Edith McCorbin, their tour guide, rounded the corner with a group of tourists close on her heels. She was leading the crowd past a sixteenth century bronze statue of King Henry VIII. Relena thought to himself that Edith was as much a part of Calmerian Castle as the weapons and tapestries that filled the enormous dwelling. Sharing her knowledge of the castle's history was Edith's 'last remaining passion.' There wasn't a person alive who knew more.
"Everyone, come close now." Edith fluttered her hands like the wings of a bird to draw the straggling group together. Her corkscrew grey hair had rebelled against the chignon she'd forced it into, and now it escaped to form mad curls around her face and the bifocals she wore on the tip of her nose. "I'll be tellin' you a sad tale about our most famous knight."
"What about the armor here?" one man asked as he clicked pictures with his disposible camera.
Sunlight pouring through the narrow windows glinted off the collection of of suits of steel. The empty armor had often fueled Relena's childhood imagination. Expecially one enormous suit of black, engraved with the Yuy crest.
While she had been growing up, there had been indefinate advantages to having grandparents who managed Calmerian Castle for the Scotland National Trust. America had nothing so magnificant. The sight of the ruined curtian wall, the smell of musty hallways, had become a touchstone for her. During summer visits, she'd filled her time with imaginary knights, fair damsels and marauding blackguards. She'd searched every inch of the castle, convinced she'd find hidden passageways which would lead her to a secret tower filled with hidden treasure, or perhaps the bones of a forgotten prisoner. Even now, at the age of nineteen, she could still feel the disappointment at not finding so much as a peep-hole.
Turning her attention back to the group, she reminded himself that she hadn't come to Scotland to find a kinght, and she wasn't a damsel in need of protection. With her degree in hand, she'd crossed the Atlantic for what she hoped would be the last time to start a new life doing what she loved most. Practicing veterinary medicine. A remote village just north of Calmerian seemed a natural place to open her surgery.
"Ah, the armor is grand, is it not?" Edith said. "There's more on the tour I'll be tellin' you about. Now listen, please." Relena moved closer to the group. She'd heard the story behind the painting so many times she knew it by heart. Still, she couldn't resist closing her eyes and envisioning herself as the heroine, ready to relieve the love, the fear and the ultimate tragic end.
"This handsom knight was none other than Lord Heero Yuy. He ruled these lands from the tender age of twelve until his violent death in 1530 at the age of twenty eight."
Relena's skin warmed. He opened his eyes to see the lord's face, tense with anger and another emotion she couldn't quite place. His blue eyes stared down at her, holding her captive.
"Lord Yuy's father and older brother were ambushed and murdered by an English reiver, a heartless thief named Bruce Armstrong." Edith explained. "The young lord vowed revenge and always wore black to symbolize his hatred. Thus he became known as the Black Knight. For many years he ruled his land and his people prospered. The only time his people wavered was when he took an outlander as his wife." There were gasps all around. "The villagers were frightened of the young woman at first. It was said she had a strange way about her. Not only was she English, which was bad enough at the time, but some whispered that she was a witch, possessing the power of second sight. But Lord Yuy loved her so much that the people soon learned they had nothing to fear."
"What was the woman's name?" a lady with white hair asked.
"That I can't say." Edith sighed and adjusted her glasses. "The stories simply refer to her as 'Mistress Yuy. We don't know her name or even the exact location she was from."
Shrugging off the mystery, she continued, "Since we are only nine miles from the English border, there were constant battles between the English and the Scottish. In 1530, Laird Armstrong laid seige to Calmerian Castle." Edith's hand fluttered to her chest, as it did each time she reached this part of the tale. "After hours of battle, an arrow pierced Lord Yuy's armor, fatally wounding him."
A man who's attention Edith had managed to snare asked, "This sort of thing happened all the time back then. Why is this man so special?"
Edith clicked her tongue. "There is more to this story. Yes, Lord Yuy died that night, but his wife, heavy with child and filled with grief, lifted her husband's sword and rallied his men." Edith's voice rose to a theatrical pitch. "The soldiers fought back the English and won the battle." A chill swept over Relena's skin. 'Heero died.' She looked into the painted face and imagined a desperate energy reaching out to her. Strength chistled his features, but underneath she sensed something else. A deep sadness, or perhaps lonliness. From where did it stem?
He'd had a wife he adored, a thriving community at his command. What had been missing from his life that would cause such an intense emotion? The puzzle surrounding Lord Yuy spun through Relena's mind, pestering her like a buzzing gnat.
Edith continued, "Once the wounded were cared for, it was discovered that Lord Yuy's wife had disappeared. She was never see or heard from again, thus ending the Yuy line the day Lord Yuy died. What happened next no one can truely say, but there is a myth."
Relena smiled as the tourists, entranced, leaned forward to hear the rest.
"It's said that Lord Yuy's wife's tears awakened the mystical Light Elves from their eternal slumber. Upon seeing the girl's deep blonde hair, they knew she was a dergflaith, or a person containing the power of sight. Feeling pity for the girl, they pleaded with Thorr to ease her pain."
"Thus Thorr swept her away to his castle in the heavens where she gave birth to a daughter, and named her Aurora. It's said that on the anniversery of her father's death, she lights up the sky, hoping Lord Yuy's spirit will find them."
A collective sigh rose from the women and echoed down the hall. Dragging her gaze from the painting, Relena saw several men roll their eyes at the fantastic ending.
Edith shook herself from the storytelling and ushered everyone down the hall, but stopped in front of Relena. "How was I, dear?"
"Perfect, as always." Relena smiled despite the strange melancholy clinging to her. She didn't believe that Thorr had carried away Lord Yuy's wife, but-- call it childish fantasy, but she liked to think the two had found each other again.
Clasping her hands together, Edith looked at the painting. She heaved a great sigh that threatened to pop the buttons on her knit jacket. "I don't know what it is about that story that moves me so. You'd think that after twenty years of telling the story I'd be immune to it now."
Relena followed Edith's gaze. The woman's words struck a vunerable nerve along her spine. "I know what you mean. It's like he's alive and can hear us. Sometimes I think his expression changes when you tell the story."
Edith turned to study Relena over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. "What a queer thing to say, my dear." Clicking her tongue, she added, "It's only a painting. Now, I must catch up with my group." Over the tapping of her Oxford shoes against the stone floor, she called, "I don't want them to miss the new collection of pewter cups!"
'It's only a painting.' Relena repeated the phrase over and over until the chill left her body and she became convinced that Lord Yuy's eyes were only deep blue paint. Still, she wondered what it would have been like to be married to a man like him. A man brave enought to risk his life to save the woman he loved. 'And leave her behind to carry on without him.' Came her rational voice.
Forcing herself to turn, she walked away from the portrait. She had to forget about the man and his needless death. After all, it had happened nearly five hundred years ago. Nothing could be done about it now. She rolled her shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there. She needed to relax and only one thing could dissolve the pensive mood thinking of Lord Yuy always created. A ride on her throughbred mare, Jesse.
Needing her jacket and hat, she headed for the office off the main hall.
As she drew near, the familiar sound of Grandma Morna's laughter rang out. Except this time, she sounded like an excited teenager instead of a 67 year old woman. Stepping into the cluttered room, Relena spotted her grandparents huddled around a battered oak table, digging through a small, dirt-crusted leather-bound trunk.
"What are you two doing?"
In unison, they looked up. Smiles broke across their wrinkled faces. Their eyes glittered with mischief.
"Come, see what we've found." Her grandmother said in a thicker than usual Scottish burr. "'Tis a thing of beauty."
Relena manuevered her way through an assortment of broken spears, mismatched armors and piles of scarred furniture. She marveled at the way her grandparents clung to their Scottish accents despited having only relocating here after being uprooted in their teens. Although not 100 % Scottish herself, they were sure she'd have inherited the Scottish lilt had she not been raised in America.
"What's in the box, grandpa?" She peeked inside and caught her breath.
"We dinna know for sure." Angus said. "But we think it dates back to the early sixteenth century."
"Lord Yuy's?" Relena asked, hearing the whisper of hope in her voice.
Her grandmother shrugged. "Who can say for sure?"
Relena reached inside the trunk and lifted the enameled box. She set it on the table and the three of them bent for a closer look. "It's beautiful."
"Aye, 'tis the finest cloisonne I've ever seen on a jewelry case."
Relena grazed her fingers over the gold scroll framing of the lid. The enamel painting depicted a woman with waist-length chestnut hair sitting in a field of purple heather. A young girl stood next to her and held out a boquet of colorful flowers.
Holding her breath, Relena lifted the lid. The elaborate box was an incredible discovery. She didn't dare hope to find anything inside. Angus whistled low. Relena and her grandmother gasped, speechless.
Nestled in purple velvet was a gold ring bearing a tiger raised on his hind legs. Surrounding it were the words 'Yuy, a Tiger Rampant' were ingraved.
"It *is* Lord Yuy's!" Her hands shaking, Relena picked up the ring. Light from the overhead bulb glinted off the smooth gold. She cradled it in her palm, wanting to believe the elegant piece had belonged to the Black Knight of her childhood dreams. "I wonder why he isn't wearing it in the portrait?"
"Are you sure he's not?" Angus asked as he leaned over Morna's shoulder for a closer look.
"I'm sure." Relena knew the portrait so well she could close her eyes and see every detail. She slid the ring onto her finger, suprised by the perfect fit. The cool metal warmed against her skin, it's weight oddly comforting. "Where did you find it?"
"We were in the dungeon, cleaning it out." Angus held the box up to the light.
Relena wrinkled her nose and suppressed the urge to shiver. She hated the dungeon. Each time she ventured into the dark pits the damp walls, slick from mildew and decay, seemed to press against her, choking her. As a child, she'd imagined the rush of wind against stone to be the moaning voices of dead prisioners, the constant dripping of water through the walls their tears.
"We thought it would be a good storage place, after a bit of remodeling. Your grandmother discovered a loose stone. When we pulled it out, we found this leather trunk inside."
"I suppose you'll lock these in a display case." Relena knew she couldn't keep such a valuable heirloom, but she resisted giving up the ring, liking the feel of it on her hand.
Grandmother Morna held out her palm. "I must tag these and add them to the records."
With a reluctant sigh, Relena pulled the band off. On impulse, she checked for an inscription. She gasped as she read, My love, my life I give you. H Dazed, she whispered, "This must have been his wife's ring."
"Oh, my!" Morna snatched the ring from Relena's fingers. "This is the only thing we have of the woman, except the legend."
Turning to her desk, Morna sat and opened her leatherbound log book, the cover worn thin from years of use, and entered the latest castle treasure. Relena stared at the ring in Morna's hand. How had the treasures become hidden in the dungeon? Who had put them there and why?
Feeling bereft, Relena picked up her hat and coat from the chair and headed for the door. "I'll see you at dinner. I'm taking Jesse out for a ride."
"Relena?"
"Yes, Grandma?" She paused on the threshold, her gaze locking on the glint of gold in the older woman's hand.
"Be careful. The weather's sure to change, and I know how skittish that horse of yours can be."
Feeling strangely out of sorts, Relena met her grandmother's worried frown. "We'll be fine. I know how to handle Jesse."
"Blast you Jesse, I don't want to go that way!" Relena tugged on the reins to turn the mare toward the woods and away from the open glen. The horse halted and craned her neck around. Relena could swear that impatience darkened the mare's large brown eyes. "If you don't follow my lead, I'm going to turn you into a plow horse." Jesse shorted and shook her mane as if she understood the threat and didn't buy it.
"I don't want to go to Hadrian's Wall today."
The chestnut stamped her foot against the grass, tugged at the bit and tried to head for the field.
Matching the mare's stubborness, Relena reined Jesse toward the old stand of oaks barely visible in the distance and nudged her flanks. Finally, Jesse broke into a canter. Cool wind brushed at Relena's face and tugged at her hair. She breathed in fresh, crisp air and let the troubling thoughts about Lord Yuy and the mysterious ring fade into the background of her mind.
As the throughbred crossed the rolling moors, the spring grass became dotted with flowers. Stars of Bethlehem, with their milky white petals, struggled for space among the rich green ferns and spreading ivy. Small clumps of heather added soft splashes of color.
Relena drew in the sweet smells. She loved this country, from its wooded valleys and swelling moorland to its temperamental weather. Each time she returned to Northumbria, it was like returning home. She let her mind wander, refusing to think about anything more taxing than the sun beating down on her.
As they reached the forest Jesse faltered in her step then shied away, refusing to enter the dense brush.
"Come on, girl."
The sun's hot, drowsy rays vanished behind steel-grey clouds, casting shadows over the earth. A gust of wind brought the scent of rain. A chill swept over Relena's skin as she drew the collar of her riding jacket up around her neck. "Let's get out of the wind."
Jesse took a hesitant step forward, as if she were afraid the ground would fall out from under her with the next step. The mare danced sideways, then pranced in a circle.
"What's the matter with you?" Relena demanded.
A crack of thunder shook the ground. Holding onto her riding hat, Relena tilted her head back just as moisture-laden clouds opened up. Icy rain stung her face and stole her breath. Digging her heels into the mare's flanks, she urged the horse into the woods.
Jesse pushed deeper into the trees, seeking even a meager shelter from the rain. Limbs snatched at both of them. Relena cried out when a sharp branch ripped her dun leggings and scratched her thigh. The horse jolted to a halt, prancing in the tight space.
"Shhh, girl." Relena stroked Jesse's slick neck until she calmed.
The canopy of entwined branches filtered the heavy rain to a fine mist. Rising wind tore at the treetops, but hardly stirred the leaves around her. Relena peered through the dense brush that seemed to shift in the changing light, growing darker, pressing tighter against her.
She'd never been so deep inside the woods before. As apprehension sharpened her senses, she wished she wasn't there now. Twisting in the saddle, she expected to see the path they'd forged. Nothing but tangled vines and eerie shadows closed around her. The thick mulch disguised the mare's hoofprints.
Relena's heart thumped against her chest. She swallowed and tasted the musky scent of wet earth. With a start, she realized she'd have to be careful or they'd get lost. And the forest encompassed miles.
Dismounting, she rubbed Jesse's muzzle. "See, it's not so bad here." She said in a shaky whisper. "At least we're out of the rain."
She looked at the swaying treetops. A fine mist covered her face, making her shiver. Feeling as if she were intruding where she didn't belong, she gripped the mare's reins and listened. Despite the rustle of leaves and a faint wind, a strange quiet surrounded her, as if the forest animals were watching her, waiting for a vunerable minute.
She bit down on her lip and considered leaving the shelter of trees and braving the storm on the open fields. A powerful gust shook the mighty oaks, sending a spattering of icy raindrops over them. Discarding the idea of leaving, but wanting a better form of protection, she led the mare deeper into the woods. Within minutes she discovered a granite overhang large enough to shelter both Jesse and herself. She dropped the reins, wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned against an ivy-covered wall. A miserable, damp cold crept through her clothes. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
Damp fir needles and bog-myrtle mingled with the clean scent of rain. Now that she was out of the drizzle, the bracing, earthy smells were reassuring, almost comforting. Beside her, Jesse nibbled on a strand of ivy. The mare clenched the greenery between her teeth, then pulled an entire section away. The vines relaxed, then with a quiet rip collapsed, sending Relena screaming backwards into darkness. She landed on her bottom with a thud. Her hat flew off, disappearing.
"Oh, God!" Scrambling to her feet, she hurtled through the opening, startling Jesse. The mare danced sideways but Relena caught the reins before the mare bolted. She turned and stared into the dark cave. Her hat was somewhere in the void. A wary inner voice told her to leave it, she could buy another, but a stronger voice dared her to see what was inside.
Jesse whickered low, then nudged Relena's back.
"All right, I'm going." She laughed, though her voice sounded as uneasy as her stomach felt. "But if something's in there, I'll have your hide if you leave me."
With both hands, Relena pulled the vines until she'd revealed a large opening. Dim light bathed the cave's smooth walls and stone floor. To her relief, there were no monsters or ancient wizards lurking inside.
Spotting her hat on the ground, she stepped inside to retrieve it. Straightening, she gasped and clutched the hat to her chest. Petroglyphs in dark shades of red and brown covered the walls. Men with spears hunted fat deer. Soldiers, armed with swords, battled one another. A religious ceremony depicting a small boy being sacrifices made her cringe in disgust.
Jesse's restless snort brought Relena around. She grabbed the reins and led the horse inside the cave. The last thing she needed was to be stranded alone in the woods, inside a cave which probably dated back to the Druids. Moving to the rear wall, she spotted a picture of two staffs with snake heads that formed a large X. A six-spoked wheel had been painted in the top portion. Beneath it was a profile of a woman with long blonde hair.
Below the pictures, words were carved into the smooth rock. Relena recognized them as Gaelic, but she couldn't decipher them. Souding out the strange dialect, she read, "Co Sam-bith beir Arianrhod uachta gearr a bolg de uair scoilt curfola steach an de." "Arianrhod," she whispered, remembering the name from the legend of Lord Yuy's wife. Excitement rushed through her at having found it written here. 'Did the woman or goddess really exist?' Could the drawings have something to do with the legend?
Wishing the walls could talk, she touched the cool surface and whispered the strange words again. She grazed her fingers over the pictures, then across the letters. A fine vibration pulsed up her arm. 'Who were you, Arianrhod?'
Jesse whinned and tugged at the reins. The mare laid back her ears. Her eyes widened, showing the whites.
"What is it, girl?"
Then Relena heard it, a high-pitched hum. It rose, then faded, rising in an hypnotic rhythm. She glanced about the cave, but couldn't detect the source of the odd noise. The sound grew stronger, until it pulsed through her body, filling her, tightening her skin. Her blood ran hot and pulsed with each wave. An ache numbed her limbs, forcing her to stand still when she'd rather run. Her heart thudded hard and slow against her ribs. The air turned thick, smothering, coating her lungs. She drew in a breath, but it wasn't enough.
Jesse ceased her struggles and stood still, her eyes closed and head bowed. The urge to lie down and sleep overwhelmed Relena. She fought to keep her own eyes open. Again, she tried to move, but her legs felt like lead instead of flesh and blood.
The droning hum continued. 'I have got to get out of this cave.' She willed herself to turn and face the entrance. The wind had picked up, sending leaves and branches flying through the air. Thick oak trees bent with the ease of willows. She heard a deafening crack, as if a tree had ripped apart.
Relena swayed, and her eyes slipped closed. She wanted to sleep. But something told her to resist. She opened her eyes a slit. The wind settled, leaving a heavy silence. Deep purple shadows gathered outside. The fading light pulsed in tune with the buzzing noise. The steady vibrations forced her find to slow, her eyes to close.
'I'll rest for a minute.' The thought floated through her like a dream. 'I have time.'
Something warm and soft nuzzled Relena's cheek. She smiled and stretched her arms. Rolling onto her side, she gasped when a sharp rock poked her in the ribs. Opening her eyes, she choked on a scream. Jesse's large, velvety nose hovered above her. Before she could move the mare snorted, blowing a hot breath over Relena's face.
Swatting Jesse away, she pushed herslef to her feet, and only then realized she had been asleep. How strange. Frowning, she glanced around. Her thoughts careened when the cave floor tilted. The walls spun out of control. She gripped her head and stumbled. Bumping into the wall, she leaned against it and closed her eyes.
As the dizziness faded she dared a peek and released a trembling breath when everything remained in place. She stared at her shaking hands. "What's wrong with me?"
She recalled the strange buzzing noise and the eerie way it had thrummed inside her, lulling her to sleep. She glanced at Jesse, whao was standing still, as docile as a lamb. That in itself was unusual. The mare always had to be tethered or she'd wander off, leaving Relena stranded.
Curls of damp, tangled hair fell over Relena's shoulder. She pulled the clip from the mass and shook her hair loose. She pushed away from the wall, but her knees shook and threatened to collapse. Spotting her hat on the dusty floor, she carefully bent over and retrieved it, and felt the jarring wave of a headache.
An ominous chill crept down her spine. Something wasn't right. She stared at the Gaelic words. For some reason, she thought she should know what they meant, that they were vitally important. The pounding in her head increased. White pain flared behind her eyes.
She pressed a hand to her temple and pulled herself into the saddle. Nudging the mare's sides, she decided she didn't give a damn about who or what Arianrhod was. She just wanted to go home.
Letting Jesse find her own way out of the forest, Relena rubbed her aching scalp, but could find no bumps. What was causing her headache? Had she fallen asleep? Or ahd she fainted? Turning to look behind her, she saw thick trees and heavy brush concealed the cave's entrance. Swallowing it as if it'd never existed.
But she knew it was there. Had something happened to her while she'd been unconscious? Jesse halted and her head snapped up. She sounded a low whicker. Relena turned back around. They'd stopped at the edge of the woods. The mare's ears pointed forward. Her big body trembled as if she sensed something wrong.
Relena looked past the few branches blocking her view and stared in disbelief. A hundred yards away on the rise of a hill stood a horse, his huge body covered with armor and his head tilted into the wind. But that wasn't what stunned her. An man was mounted on his back, dressed in matching black armor.
Armor she could have sworn belonged in Calmarian Castle.
April, 2004
Damn, if the man didn't facinate her.
'Too bad he's been dead for nearly five hundred years.' Relena Darlian studied the painting hanging in the gallery of Calmerian Castle. A dangerous emotion showed in the knight's deep cobalt blue eyes, as if he dared the Peacecraft heir to step closer. The sneer lifting his mouth accented the legendary two inch scar along his right cheek. In contrast to the other portraits of men in his time, who'd curled and waxed their hair, this man's brown mane had been allowed to grow wild, shading his eyes.
The only hint of wealth came from a jeweled belt wrapped around the breeches he wore. If one looked closely, they could read the words, 'Yuy, A Tiger Rampant', on the belt in black letters. Relena felt the overwhelming need to not only take the dare and touch the painting, but the man as well.
Each time she visited her grandparents at Calmerian, she was unable to pass the painting without sensing the knight's gaze on her, following her every move, giving her the eerie feeling he wanted to talk with her. The hair on her nape prickled.What would the knight say if he could? Would his voice be refind, like an educated lord, or harsh and commanding, like a knight inured to hardships and suffering? She guessed the latter. She'd never meet him, but even so, she knew what she'd ask. Why did the knight seem so angry? She blew out a breath, knowing she'd never know for sure.
'And why do I care?' She shook his head. It was certainly time she ended this fixation with the long-dead lord, but, she reasoned, fantasizing about him seemed safer than taking a risk with the men of her own time. He couldn't ask things of her or expect more than she could deliver.
As Relena pushed away from the stone wall, a shrill voice broke the silence. Edith McCorbin, their tour guide, rounded the corner with a group of tourists close on her heels. She was leading the crowd past a sixteenth century bronze statue of King Henry VIII. Relena thought to himself that Edith was as much a part of Calmerian Castle as the weapons and tapestries that filled the enormous dwelling. Sharing her knowledge of the castle's history was Edith's 'last remaining passion.' There wasn't a person alive who knew more.
"Everyone, come close now." Edith fluttered her hands like the wings of a bird to draw the straggling group together. Her corkscrew grey hair had rebelled against the chignon she'd forced it into, and now it escaped to form mad curls around her face and the bifocals she wore on the tip of her nose. "I'll be tellin' you a sad tale about our most famous knight."
"What about the armor here?" one man asked as he clicked pictures with his disposible camera.
Sunlight pouring through the narrow windows glinted off the collection of of suits of steel. The empty armor had often fueled Relena's childhood imagination. Expecially one enormous suit of black, engraved with the Yuy crest.
While she had been growing up, there had been indefinate advantages to having grandparents who managed Calmerian Castle for the Scotland National Trust. America had nothing so magnificant. The sight of the ruined curtian wall, the smell of musty hallways, had become a touchstone for her. During summer visits, she'd filled her time with imaginary knights, fair damsels and marauding blackguards. She'd searched every inch of the castle, convinced she'd find hidden passageways which would lead her to a secret tower filled with hidden treasure, or perhaps the bones of a forgotten prisoner. Even now, at the age of nineteen, she could still feel the disappointment at not finding so much as a peep-hole.
Turning her attention back to the group, she reminded himself that she hadn't come to Scotland to find a kinght, and she wasn't a damsel in need of protection. With her degree in hand, she'd crossed the Atlantic for what she hoped would be the last time to start a new life doing what she loved most. Practicing veterinary medicine. A remote village just north of Calmerian seemed a natural place to open her surgery.
"Ah, the armor is grand, is it not?" Edith said. "There's more on the tour I'll be tellin' you about. Now listen, please." Relena moved closer to the group. She'd heard the story behind the painting so many times she knew it by heart. Still, she couldn't resist closing her eyes and envisioning herself as the heroine, ready to relieve the love, the fear and the ultimate tragic end.
"This handsom knight was none other than Lord Heero Yuy. He ruled these lands from the tender age of twelve until his violent death in 1530 at the age of twenty eight."
Relena's skin warmed. He opened his eyes to see the lord's face, tense with anger and another emotion she couldn't quite place. His blue eyes stared down at her, holding her captive.
"Lord Yuy's father and older brother were ambushed and murdered by an English reiver, a heartless thief named Bruce Armstrong." Edith explained. "The young lord vowed revenge and always wore black to symbolize his hatred. Thus he became known as the Black Knight. For many years he ruled his land and his people prospered. The only time his people wavered was when he took an outlander as his wife." There were gasps all around. "The villagers were frightened of the young woman at first. It was said she had a strange way about her. Not only was she English, which was bad enough at the time, but some whispered that she was a witch, possessing the power of second sight. But Lord Yuy loved her so much that the people soon learned they had nothing to fear."
"What was the woman's name?" a lady with white hair asked.
"That I can't say." Edith sighed and adjusted her glasses. "The stories simply refer to her as 'Mistress Yuy. We don't know her name or even the exact location she was from."
Shrugging off the mystery, she continued, "Since we are only nine miles from the English border, there were constant battles between the English and the Scottish. In 1530, Laird Armstrong laid seige to Calmerian Castle." Edith's hand fluttered to her chest, as it did each time she reached this part of the tale. "After hours of battle, an arrow pierced Lord Yuy's armor, fatally wounding him."
A man who's attention Edith had managed to snare asked, "This sort of thing happened all the time back then. Why is this man so special?"
Edith clicked her tongue. "There is more to this story. Yes, Lord Yuy died that night, but his wife, heavy with child and filled with grief, lifted her husband's sword and rallied his men." Edith's voice rose to a theatrical pitch. "The soldiers fought back the English and won the battle." A chill swept over Relena's skin. 'Heero died.' She looked into the painted face and imagined a desperate energy reaching out to her. Strength chistled his features, but underneath she sensed something else. A deep sadness, or perhaps lonliness. From where did it stem?
He'd had a wife he adored, a thriving community at his command. What had been missing from his life that would cause such an intense emotion? The puzzle surrounding Lord Yuy spun through Relena's mind, pestering her like a buzzing gnat.
Edith continued, "Once the wounded were cared for, it was discovered that Lord Yuy's wife had disappeared. She was never see or heard from again, thus ending the Yuy line the day Lord Yuy died. What happened next no one can truely say, but there is a myth."
Relena smiled as the tourists, entranced, leaned forward to hear the rest.
"It's said that Lord Yuy's wife's tears awakened the mystical Light Elves from their eternal slumber. Upon seeing the girl's deep blonde hair, they knew she was a dergflaith, or a person containing the power of sight. Feeling pity for the girl, they pleaded with Thorr to ease her pain."
"Thus Thorr swept her away to his castle in the heavens where she gave birth to a daughter, and named her Aurora. It's said that on the anniversery of her father's death, she lights up the sky, hoping Lord Yuy's spirit will find them."
A collective sigh rose from the women and echoed down the hall. Dragging her gaze from the painting, Relena saw several men roll their eyes at the fantastic ending.
Edith shook herself from the storytelling and ushered everyone down the hall, but stopped in front of Relena. "How was I, dear?"
"Perfect, as always." Relena smiled despite the strange melancholy clinging to her. She didn't believe that Thorr had carried away Lord Yuy's wife, but-- call it childish fantasy, but she liked to think the two had found each other again.
Clasping her hands together, Edith looked at the painting. She heaved a great sigh that threatened to pop the buttons on her knit jacket. "I don't know what it is about that story that moves me so. You'd think that after twenty years of telling the story I'd be immune to it now."
Relena followed Edith's gaze. The woman's words struck a vunerable nerve along her spine. "I know what you mean. It's like he's alive and can hear us. Sometimes I think his expression changes when you tell the story."
Edith turned to study Relena over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. "What a queer thing to say, my dear." Clicking her tongue, she added, "It's only a painting. Now, I must catch up with my group." Over the tapping of her Oxford shoes against the stone floor, she called, "I don't want them to miss the new collection of pewter cups!"
'It's only a painting.' Relena repeated the phrase over and over until the chill left her body and she became convinced that Lord Yuy's eyes were only deep blue paint. Still, she wondered what it would have been like to be married to a man like him. A man brave enought to risk his life to save the woman he loved. 'And leave her behind to carry on without him.' Came her rational voice.
Forcing herself to turn, she walked away from the portrait. She had to forget about the man and his needless death. After all, it had happened nearly five hundred years ago. Nothing could be done about it now. She rolled her shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there. She needed to relax and only one thing could dissolve the pensive mood thinking of Lord Yuy always created. A ride on her throughbred mare, Jesse.
Needing her jacket and hat, she headed for the office off the main hall.
As she drew near, the familiar sound of Grandma Morna's laughter rang out. Except this time, she sounded like an excited teenager instead of a 67 year old woman. Stepping into the cluttered room, Relena spotted her grandparents huddled around a battered oak table, digging through a small, dirt-crusted leather-bound trunk.
"What are you two doing?"
In unison, they looked up. Smiles broke across their wrinkled faces. Their eyes glittered with mischief.
"Come, see what we've found." Her grandmother said in a thicker than usual Scottish burr. "'Tis a thing of beauty."
Relena manuevered her way through an assortment of broken spears, mismatched armors and piles of scarred furniture. She marveled at the way her grandparents clung to their Scottish accents despited having only relocating here after being uprooted in their teens. Although not 100 % Scottish herself, they were sure she'd have inherited the Scottish lilt had she not been raised in America.
"What's in the box, grandpa?" She peeked inside and caught her breath.
"We dinna know for sure." Angus said. "But we think it dates back to the early sixteenth century."
"Lord Yuy's?" Relena asked, hearing the whisper of hope in her voice.
Her grandmother shrugged. "Who can say for sure?"
Relena reached inside the trunk and lifted the enameled box. She set it on the table and the three of them bent for a closer look. "It's beautiful."
"Aye, 'tis the finest cloisonne I've ever seen on a jewelry case."
Relena grazed her fingers over the gold scroll framing of the lid. The enamel painting depicted a woman with waist-length chestnut hair sitting in a field of purple heather. A young girl stood next to her and held out a boquet of colorful flowers.
Holding her breath, Relena lifted the lid. The elaborate box was an incredible discovery. She didn't dare hope to find anything inside. Angus whistled low. Relena and her grandmother gasped, speechless.
Nestled in purple velvet was a gold ring bearing a tiger raised on his hind legs. Surrounding it were the words 'Yuy, a Tiger Rampant' were ingraved.
"It *is* Lord Yuy's!" Her hands shaking, Relena picked up the ring. Light from the overhead bulb glinted off the smooth gold. She cradled it in her palm, wanting to believe the elegant piece had belonged to the Black Knight of her childhood dreams. "I wonder why he isn't wearing it in the portrait?"
"Are you sure he's not?" Angus asked as he leaned over Morna's shoulder for a closer look.
"I'm sure." Relena knew the portrait so well she could close her eyes and see every detail. She slid the ring onto her finger, suprised by the perfect fit. The cool metal warmed against her skin, it's weight oddly comforting. "Where did you find it?"
"We were in the dungeon, cleaning it out." Angus held the box up to the light.
Relena wrinkled her nose and suppressed the urge to shiver. She hated the dungeon. Each time she ventured into the dark pits the damp walls, slick from mildew and decay, seemed to press against her, choking her. As a child, she'd imagined the rush of wind against stone to be the moaning voices of dead prisioners, the constant dripping of water through the walls their tears.
"We thought it would be a good storage place, after a bit of remodeling. Your grandmother discovered a loose stone. When we pulled it out, we found this leather trunk inside."
"I suppose you'll lock these in a display case." Relena knew she couldn't keep such a valuable heirloom, but she resisted giving up the ring, liking the feel of it on her hand.
Grandmother Morna held out her palm. "I must tag these and add them to the records."
With a reluctant sigh, Relena pulled the band off. On impulse, she checked for an inscription. She gasped as she read, My love, my life I give you. H Dazed, she whispered, "This must have been his wife's ring."
"Oh, my!" Morna snatched the ring from Relena's fingers. "This is the only thing we have of the woman, except the legend."
Turning to her desk, Morna sat and opened her leatherbound log book, the cover worn thin from years of use, and entered the latest castle treasure. Relena stared at the ring in Morna's hand. How had the treasures become hidden in the dungeon? Who had put them there and why?
Feeling bereft, Relena picked up her hat and coat from the chair and headed for the door. "I'll see you at dinner. I'm taking Jesse out for a ride."
"Relena?"
"Yes, Grandma?" She paused on the threshold, her gaze locking on the glint of gold in the older woman's hand.
"Be careful. The weather's sure to change, and I know how skittish that horse of yours can be."
Feeling strangely out of sorts, Relena met her grandmother's worried frown. "We'll be fine. I know how to handle Jesse."
"Blast you Jesse, I don't want to go that way!" Relena tugged on the reins to turn the mare toward the woods and away from the open glen. The horse halted and craned her neck around. Relena could swear that impatience darkened the mare's large brown eyes. "If you don't follow my lead, I'm going to turn you into a plow horse." Jesse shorted and shook her mane as if she understood the threat and didn't buy it.
"I don't want to go to Hadrian's Wall today."
The chestnut stamped her foot against the grass, tugged at the bit and tried to head for the field.
Matching the mare's stubborness, Relena reined Jesse toward the old stand of oaks barely visible in the distance and nudged her flanks. Finally, Jesse broke into a canter. Cool wind brushed at Relena's face and tugged at her hair. She breathed in fresh, crisp air and let the troubling thoughts about Lord Yuy and the mysterious ring fade into the background of her mind.
As the throughbred crossed the rolling moors, the spring grass became dotted with flowers. Stars of Bethlehem, with their milky white petals, struggled for space among the rich green ferns and spreading ivy. Small clumps of heather added soft splashes of color.
Relena drew in the sweet smells. She loved this country, from its wooded valleys and swelling moorland to its temperamental weather. Each time she returned to Northumbria, it was like returning home. She let her mind wander, refusing to think about anything more taxing than the sun beating down on her.
As they reached the forest Jesse faltered in her step then shied away, refusing to enter the dense brush.
"Come on, girl."
The sun's hot, drowsy rays vanished behind steel-grey clouds, casting shadows over the earth. A gust of wind brought the scent of rain. A chill swept over Relena's skin as she drew the collar of her riding jacket up around her neck. "Let's get out of the wind."
Jesse took a hesitant step forward, as if she were afraid the ground would fall out from under her with the next step. The mare danced sideways, then pranced in a circle.
"What's the matter with you?" Relena demanded.
A crack of thunder shook the ground. Holding onto her riding hat, Relena tilted her head back just as moisture-laden clouds opened up. Icy rain stung her face and stole her breath. Digging her heels into the mare's flanks, she urged the horse into the woods.
Jesse pushed deeper into the trees, seeking even a meager shelter from the rain. Limbs snatched at both of them. Relena cried out when a sharp branch ripped her dun leggings and scratched her thigh. The horse jolted to a halt, prancing in the tight space.
"Shhh, girl." Relena stroked Jesse's slick neck until she calmed.
The canopy of entwined branches filtered the heavy rain to a fine mist. Rising wind tore at the treetops, but hardly stirred the leaves around her. Relena peered through the dense brush that seemed to shift in the changing light, growing darker, pressing tighter against her.
She'd never been so deep inside the woods before. As apprehension sharpened her senses, she wished she wasn't there now. Twisting in the saddle, she expected to see the path they'd forged. Nothing but tangled vines and eerie shadows closed around her. The thick mulch disguised the mare's hoofprints.
Relena's heart thumped against her chest. She swallowed and tasted the musky scent of wet earth. With a start, she realized she'd have to be careful or they'd get lost. And the forest encompassed miles.
Dismounting, she rubbed Jesse's muzzle. "See, it's not so bad here." She said in a shaky whisper. "At least we're out of the rain."
She looked at the swaying treetops. A fine mist covered her face, making her shiver. Feeling as if she were intruding where she didn't belong, she gripped the mare's reins and listened. Despite the rustle of leaves and a faint wind, a strange quiet surrounded her, as if the forest animals were watching her, waiting for a vunerable minute.
She bit down on her lip and considered leaving the shelter of trees and braving the storm on the open fields. A powerful gust shook the mighty oaks, sending a spattering of icy raindrops over them. Discarding the idea of leaving, but wanting a better form of protection, she led the mare deeper into the woods. Within minutes she discovered a granite overhang large enough to shelter both Jesse and herself. She dropped the reins, wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned against an ivy-covered wall. A miserable, damp cold crept through her clothes. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
Damp fir needles and bog-myrtle mingled with the clean scent of rain. Now that she was out of the drizzle, the bracing, earthy smells were reassuring, almost comforting. Beside her, Jesse nibbled on a strand of ivy. The mare clenched the greenery between her teeth, then pulled an entire section away. The vines relaxed, then with a quiet rip collapsed, sending Relena screaming backwards into darkness. She landed on her bottom with a thud. Her hat flew off, disappearing.
"Oh, God!" Scrambling to her feet, she hurtled through the opening, startling Jesse. The mare danced sideways but Relena caught the reins before the mare bolted. She turned and stared into the dark cave. Her hat was somewhere in the void. A wary inner voice told her to leave it, she could buy another, but a stronger voice dared her to see what was inside.
Jesse whickered low, then nudged Relena's back.
"All right, I'm going." She laughed, though her voice sounded as uneasy as her stomach felt. "But if something's in there, I'll have your hide if you leave me."
With both hands, Relena pulled the vines until she'd revealed a large opening. Dim light bathed the cave's smooth walls and stone floor. To her relief, there were no monsters or ancient wizards lurking inside.
Spotting her hat on the ground, she stepped inside to retrieve it. Straightening, she gasped and clutched the hat to her chest. Petroglyphs in dark shades of red and brown covered the walls. Men with spears hunted fat deer. Soldiers, armed with swords, battled one another. A religious ceremony depicting a small boy being sacrifices made her cringe in disgust.
Jesse's restless snort brought Relena around. She grabbed the reins and led the horse inside the cave. The last thing she needed was to be stranded alone in the woods, inside a cave which probably dated back to the Druids. Moving to the rear wall, she spotted a picture of two staffs with snake heads that formed a large X. A six-spoked wheel had been painted in the top portion. Beneath it was a profile of a woman with long blonde hair.
Below the pictures, words were carved into the smooth rock. Relena recognized them as Gaelic, but she couldn't decipher them. Souding out the strange dialect, she read, "Co Sam-bith beir Arianrhod uachta gearr a bolg de uair scoilt curfola steach an de." "Arianrhod," she whispered, remembering the name from the legend of Lord Yuy's wife. Excitement rushed through her at having found it written here. 'Did the woman or goddess really exist?' Could the drawings have something to do with the legend?
Wishing the walls could talk, she touched the cool surface and whispered the strange words again. She grazed her fingers over the pictures, then across the letters. A fine vibration pulsed up her arm. 'Who were you, Arianrhod?'
Jesse whinned and tugged at the reins. The mare laid back her ears. Her eyes widened, showing the whites.
"What is it, girl?"
Then Relena heard it, a high-pitched hum. It rose, then faded, rising in an hypnotic rhythm. She glanced about the cave, but couldn't detect the source of the odd noise. The sound grew stronger, until it pulsed through her body, filling her, tightening her skin. Her blood ran hot and pulsed with each wave. An ache numbed her limbs, forcing her to stand still when she'd rather run. Her heart thudded hard and slow against her ribs. The air turned thick, smothering, coating her lungs. She drew in a breath, but it wasn't enough.
Jesse ceased her struggles and stood still, her eyes closed and head bowed. The urge to lie down and sleep overwhelmed Relena. She fought to keep her own eyes open. Again, she tried to move, but her legs felt like lead instead of flesh and blood.
The droning hum continued. 'I have got to get out of this cave.' She willed herself to turn and face the entrance. The wind had picked up, sending leaves and branches flying through the air. Thick oak trees bent with the ease of willows. She heard a deafening crack, as if a tree had ripped apart.
Relena swayed, and her eyes slipped closed. She wanted to sleep. But something told her to resist. She opened her eyes a slit. The wind settled, leaving a heavy silence. Deep purple shadows gathered outside. The fading light pulsed in tune with the buzzing noise. The steady vibrations forced her find to slow, her eyes to close.
'I'll rest for a minute.' The thought floated through her like a dream. 'I have time.'
Something warm and soft nuzzled Relena's cheek. She smiled and stretched her arms. Rolling onto her side, she gasped when a sharp rock poked her in the ribs. Opening her eyes, she choked on a scream. Jesse's large, velvety nose hovered above her. Before she could move the mare snorted, blowing a hot breath over Relena's face.
Swatting Jesse away, she pushed herslef to her feet, and only then realized she had been asleep. How strange. Frowning, she glanced around. Her thoughts careened when the cave floor tilted. The walls spun out of control. She gripped her head and stumbled. Bumping into the wall, she leaned against it and closed her eyes.
As the dizziness faded she dared a peek and released a trembling breath when everything remained in place. She stared at her shaking hands. "What's wrong with me?"
She recalled the strange buzzing noise and the eerie way it had thrummed inside her, lulling her to sleep. She glanced at Jesse, whao was standing still, as docile as a lamb. That in itself was unusual. The mare always had to be tethered or she'd wander off, leaving Relena stranded.
Curls of damp, tangled hair fell over Relena's shoulder. She pulled the clip from the mass and shook her hair loose. She pushed away from the wall, but her knees shook and threatened to collapse. Spotting her hat on the dusty floor, she carefully bent over and retrieved it, and felt the jarring wave of a headache.
An ominous chill crept down her spine. Something wasn't right. She stared at the Gaelic words. For some reason, she thought she should know what they meant, that they were vitally important. The pounding in her head increased. White pain flared behind her eyes.
She pressed a hand to her temple and pulled herself into the saddle. Nudging the mare's sides, she decided she didn't give a damn about who or what Arianrhod was. She just wanted to go home.
Letting Jesse find her own way out of the forest, Relena rubbed her aching scalp, but could find no bumps. What was causing her headache? Had she fallen asleep? Or ahd she fainted? Turning to look behind her, she saw thick trees and heavy brush concealed the cave's entrance. Swallowing it as if it'd never existed.
But she knew it was there. Had something happened to her while she'd been unconscious? Jesse halted and her head snapped up. She sounded a low whicker. Relena turned back around. They'd stopped at the edge of the woods. The mare's ears pointed forward. Her big body trembled as if she sensed something wrong.
Relena looked past the few branches blocking her view and stared in disbelief. A hundred yards away on the rise of a hill stood a horse, his huge body covered with armor and his head tilted into the wind. But that wasn't what stunned her. An man was mounted on his back, dressed in matching black armor.
Armor she could have sworn belonged in Calmarian Castle.