Chapter One
Meetings ...
Forteviot, Kingdom of All Scots, 843 c.e.:
Methos reined in his horse. Before him, the great hall of the new Scots king rose three stories. A wooden stockade surrounded it. About the stockade, sprawled a village of mud and wattle huts. Everything looked raw and new. Except the land. That, he knew, was as old as time itself.
"Sir Edward!" Methos turned toward the sound of Lord Strathclyde's voice. "Shall we enter?" Methos nodded. They had, after all, been invited. This new king wanted to discuss peace negotiations ... perhaps a treaty between his kingdom and his neighbor to the south. Someone to back him up in case the persistent Picts did not settle down to live under his rule.
Methos motioned to the rest of their entourage and they slowly entered the court of King Kenneth MacAlpin. Once inside the stockade, he warily glanced around at the defenses, carefully evaluating the strengths and weaknesses in case they needed to beat a hasty retreat. With a practiced eye, he counted the guards, noted their weapons, the placement of the side buildings, the movements and tenor of the court, everything. Within moments he probably knew as much about the place as those who lived there did.
He knew which building was the kitchen ... which was the barracks ... which was the guest house ... the servants' quarters, the stables, and, possibly most important, at least for him ... where the chapel -- holy ground -- stood, ... just in case.
Lord Strathclyde, a burly bearded man in his forties, halted the group with a raised arm. A herald had come forward to meet him.
"You are most welcome Lord Strathclyde, ... his majesty will be pleased to receive you."
Lord Strathclyde, dismounted, "And I will be most please to meet with him." He bowed slightly to the herald. As the others also dismounted, Lord Strathclyde leaned in closely to Methos. "Have a look around, Edward, ... I want to know precisely what we are getting ourselves into here. I do not want surprises."
Methos nodded. "Are you certain you do not wish me to accompany you into your audience with the king?"
"If Kenneth wanted us dead, he has had ample opportunity. Besides, I do not think he will let us approach armed. I want you to use those skills of yours to assess these surroundings."
Methos nodded and bowed slightly. He refrained from mentioning that the task was already complete. No sense in letting Lord Strathclyde know just how good he was at his job. It was best to appear capable, but not too capable.
Grooms came forward to lead the horses away towards the stables; servants arrived to take the group's personal belongings into the rooms, which undoubtedly awaited them. They also led away Lord Strathclyde's servants to help in the settling of their lord's belongings. The lord's personal squire, young Cedric, followed Lord Strathclyde closely; bearing in his hands the small chest with its gift for the new king.
Methos watched them enter the king's hall, then began to wander about the courtyard, seemingly aimless, but all the while noting additional details. The members of the court, both servants and warriors, appeared fairly at ease, well-fed, confident in their new king's abilities. Methos observed a group of musicians practicing their music, probably for the feast later that night. Servants, bearing platters of food, hurriedly moved between the kitchen and the great hall. Others, on other tasks, also moved determinedly about the courtyard. Methos betrayed no interest in anything... but he took it all in... observing every detail... every face.
At the side yard, near the stables, several boys were practicing fighting moves with sticks. The sounds of other children were just beyond. As he moved past the sparring youths, Methos felt the minor tingle of a pre-immortal. Nothing to worry about... but still, he ought to check this out. Several servants brushed past him. A group of warriors were arguing about battle tactics. He casually turned, trying to focus on just where the buzz was coming from.
He finally narrowed it down to the small group of children. A young woman, slender, with long red hair braided behind her in the style of the day, dressed, not as a servant, but not quite like a noblewoman, was apparently in charge of them. She called out to them occasionally... obviously keeping a close eye on her charges. One of them approached her and told her something; then pointed at the immortal watching them.
She turned to look at him, a question on her face. He smiled slightly and nodded his head in her direction. She said something to the children, folded her arms across her chest and walked up to him, her brows, above her blue eyes, were knotted in a question. "May I help you, Sir? Is there something I may do for you?" She came to a stop a few feet away.
The sense of something was closer. Methos nodded and bowed slightly, "I am with Lord Strathclyde's party. I was just familiarizing myself with the court." He gestured about casually. "I did not mean to disturb you."
The young woman nodded in return but stood still for a moment, "Is there anything more..."
Methos took a deep breath and looked around, "There are many children here. More than I would have expected."
"Yes... the king asked the clan chieftains to send children of their household here. They are tokens of their alliance with the king."
Methos nodded. The children were hostages. Then he noticed the small head of a very young girl peeking out from behind the young woman. She was perhaps five years of age, but so small she appeared younger. Her black hair was pulled back from her face and hung long over her shoulders. She had green eyes... green as the great Atlantic Ocean. He had not seen such eyes in... well... in a long, long, long time. The child smiled and waved at him before ducking shyly once more behind her red-haired guardian.
"And who is this?" Methos leaned down slightly. The child peeked out once more... giggled in delight, and ... then quickly hid her face in the skirts of the young woman.
Her arms still crossed, the young woman turned slightly and glanced down, as if this were an ordinary occurrence. She laughed, "Oh that one! ... She is said to be old Fergus McCurdy's granddaughter. But I have my doubts. I would not put it past that wily old man to have sent us a changeling child."
"Why do you say a changeling child?" Methos kept his voice flat, he did not wish to seem too interested in the little girl.
"I just meant that she is likely some peasant woman's child. Old McCurdy is known not to be greatly keen on this alliance." Behind her voices were raised. "Still, she is better off here than in some hovel." She turned then to see about the disturbance behind her. Two young girls of about ten were pushing one another.
"Why is that?" Methos continued.
"She... they..." she gestured at the children, "are all better off here. They have me to watch over them." She clapped her hands together and raised her voice, "Fiona! ... Catherine! ... Compose yourselves, girls! This behavior is not ladylike. If you are not seen as young ladies, who will ever wish to marry you!" She moved to stand between the chastised girls, separating them roughly with her outspread arms.
The small elfin child stayed where she had been, suddenly exposed to Methos' full attention. She twisted back and forth, shyly grinning. Then she bit her lip and raised her hands to her mouth. Her smile widened.
Chapel bells began to ring.
Someone called at her, a name Methos did not quite catch. The child continued to just grin, seemingly oblivious of anyone else. One of the older girls came forward to grasp one of her small hands and pull her back into the retreating group of children. The red-haired woman had lined the children up and was leading them off toward the chapel. Even as she was being led away, the child still looked back at him... smiling. She ventured a small wave over her shoulder at him with her free hand.
Behind him, Methos heard one of the passing warriors mumble to another, "There goes Mary McDonough and her brood. Wouldn't I like to be the one the king saddles her on." The two laughed raucously and moved on. Methos continued to watch the group of children until they had vanished, then he turned and continued his "oh so casual" survey walk about the courtyard. Things had suddenly gotten very interesting.
Hours later, he made his report to Lord Strathclyde as the lord dressed for the feast. Cedric lounged nearby as the servants adjusted their master's garments.
"So you believe that this court of theirs is a stable one... that it has a good chance to succeed? This alliance of the clans with MacAlpin will hold?" Strathclyde waved away the servants and attempted to adjust the neck of his tunic. One servant approached with a looking glass of polished metal to allow the Lord to see his reflection. Strathclyde turned slightly, admiring what he saw, then waved the servant away.
"Yes, my Lord," Methos replied. "There is a sense of purpose and confidence in both the servants and the retainers I have seen. I failed to note any sense of rebellion or dissatisfaction." Methos stood quietly, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Very well," Strathclyde nodded at Methos. "You are dismissed. I will want you to accompany me to the feast... you and Cedric."
Methos bowed his head once more and turned to leave.
"One more thing Edward... remember we may not go armed into the king's presence." From his emphasis on the word armed, Methos knew Strathclyde was telling him to be secretly armed somehow. He would leave the details to his retainer. Well, that was not a problem... Methos never went anywhere without being armed. He knew how to conceal a blade.
Lilting music filled the great hall of Kenneth MacAlpin. As Strathclyde and his party entered, Methos casually observed the placement of tables, guests, guards, servants, and musicians. Everyone seemed relaxed, cheerful. Everything appeared as he had told Strathclyde. This was a court, which definitely had a chance to succeed. If, that was, they could continue to hold the Picts in check. For that they looked to their new king and his abilities to forge alliances that would work.
Strathclyde leading the way, the party of three men made their way to the head table where Strathclyde bowed graciously before King Kenneth. "Your Majesty, we are most grateful for your many kindness'. May I present Sir Edward Gray, one of my household."
Methos bowed.
Kenneth was seated on an ornately carved chair on the far side of the table. He gestured to the empty chair at his right. "We would appreciate your joining us my Lord Strathclyde."
Strathclyde smiled, nodded his agreement, and walked around the table to be seated in the offered place of honor at Kenneth's right hand. Cedric trooped behind. It was he who would serve his lord during dinner. Methos remained where he was. A servant came forward and led him to a nearby table to be seated with others of similar rank. All was as it should be. Protocol must be observed.
As he took his seat and was introduced to the others at this table, he was vaguely aware of the nearness of the pre-immortal. A glance to his left confirmed that the group of hostage children and Mary McDonough were at one of the lower tables.
The music ended and the herald announced that the feast would now commence. A great shout of affirmation went up from the assembled guests and the first course was served. During the meal Methos listened to the talk at his table, all the while observing the head table. The king and Lord Strathclyde appeared to be enjoying themselves. Methos could hear laughter from them as some jest was made.
Behind him the feel of the pre-immortal increased. He casually turned to see Mary McDonough approaching. She was holding the hand of the elfin child.
She curtsied. "You have managed to enchant one of my charges, Sir Knight. She has a small gift for you."
Several of the men at the table snickered.
Methos remained seated but turned to face the little girl.
The child let go of Mary's hand and pulled out from behind her back with the other hand, a wreath of flowers, chained together with simple knots in their stems. Methos started slightly. The little girl took the flowers in both hands and stepped toward him. Standing on tiptoe, she reached high above her to place the wreath on Methos' head. Laughter erupted at the table.
"Better be careful, Sir Edward... King Kenneth might not appreciate another man being crowned king in his hall." Methos smiled.
"My thanks my lady."
The little girl reached one hand up to touch his face. She lightly brushed his cheek, and leaning in close to him, she whispered. "She says to tell you, you have her father's eyes."
For a moment, Methos was struck dumb... the sounds of the hall... the music... the laughter... all the sounds of the feast were as nothing. The revelers moved slowly in silence. Then the moment passed. All was as it should be. He asked quizzically, "Who told you that?"
"The Lady."
Once again the men at the table erupted into laughter and began slapping one another as if it were a great joke.
Mary once more took the child's hand and offered an apology. "I am sorry Sir Knight, ... sometimes it seems she talks to Queen Mab herself. She is a curious child." Mary led the girl off. Methos stared after them.
"You know, Sir Edward," he heard one of the men say. "You best divest yourself of your Faerie crown." Laughter erupted once more. Methos forced himself to join in the laughter and pulled the flowers off. He made it look as though he had dropped them onto the floor, but he secured them under his cloak. He wanted a better look at them later. Next he leaned forward at the table and joined in a toast. They were all friends here after all. No sense in provoking a fight. He glanced back at the hostage children and their guardian.
"Fancy Mary McDonough, do you?" One of them men leaned over. "Aye... she's the real prize in that group. Her father has promised a fine dowry and lands to match. King Kenneth will decide who she is to marry."
Methos turned back to face him. "She then is also a hostage."
"Oh yes. Old McDonough supports our new king, but he hopes to make a strong marriage for the girl."
Methos nodded. Of course... that made perfect sense.
"Of course, " the man continued, "The man she marries will also have to deal with her legendary temper!" Once again the men at the table began to laugh.
Early the next day, while Lord Strathclyde and the king were in conference again, Methos sought out Mary McDonough.
"I am truly sorry if she embarrassed you last evening." Mary was in one of the antechambers of the hall. Six of the girls were sitting around her, working on needlework. The little girl and a few of the other young children were playing on the dirt floor. "We are never certain what she will do or what she will say. She often speaks of this invisible Lady. Father Padraic says she will grow out of this."
"I was not offended. I was just curious if she often does this."
Mary stopped to give some instruction to one of the girls on her stitches and glanced over at the child. "Not like this. As I said... she seems quite enchanted with you."
Methos looked over at the little girl. She had a stick in her hand and was drawing patterns in the dust of the dirt floor. Outside, the chapel bell rang. Mary gathered the girls up and led them off. As she did so, the child once more looked behind her, smiled at Methos, and ventured a little wave.
Methos walked slowly over to see what it was the girl had drawn in the dirt. He stared at the symbols. They were old markings. They had been old when he was young. He lifted one booted foot and carefully smudged them, erasing all sign of their existence. Then placing his hands behind his back, he thoughtfully walked out into the courtyard.
Upon the conclusion of his meeting with the king later that day, Lord Strathclyde abruptly announced to his party that they would be leaving at dawn on the morrow. The negotiations had gone well, and, if they were not allies, the two courts were, at least, on friendly terms. Much work was still needed. Methos spent the rest of the day in Lord Strathclyde's company. That afternoon, they even rode out for a deer hunt with several of MacAlpin's men.
At dawn, their horses were packed and loaded. The king himself presented Lord Strathclyde with a fine dagger. They mounted their horses, gave their regards to those assembled and headed through the gate.
Methos sensed the elfin child nearby. She had somehow escaped her guardian and was standing at the stockade, halfway hiding behind an escarpment. She watched him pass by with those green eyes of hers. Mary McDonough came up behind her and began to pull her away. The child twisted her head around to continue watching as he left. Mary pulled more sharply on the child's arm and turned her back towards her. The words she spoke were lost in the sounds of the horses' hooves and the shouts of "Good journey!"
Methos faced forward and urged his horse through the gate and toward the high road to the south. It had been an interesting visit. He might have to return here in a few years to see how things were going. Yes... he might at that. He spurred his horse into a trot, riding at Lord Strathclyde's side. But his thoughts were elsewhere... in memories long forgotten.