Chapter Seven

Life ...

Forteviot, Kingdom of All Scots: 858 c.e.:

In the end, Methos finally just ran out of time. Word had arrived at Lord Strathclyde's court that King Kenneth commanded the knight's presence. Since he had been gravely ill over the winter, Kenneth wanted to conclude their business. He expected Sir Edward to come for Aella. Kenneth feared that if he died before the marriage took place, the girl might not be safe.

Methos had duly written to her in the last five years, each time including in the missive, some token of his respect for her... jewelry, cloth, and books. Her letters to him had been filled with dutiful comments and chaste hopes for a future that he had hoped to avoid. Still, he could not quite make himself just vanish without a trace. His bargain with Kenneth lasted only so long as the Scots King thought the knight would return to keep his word. So, he made preparations.

If he had to marry the girl to get her away safely, so be it. He could then ensconce her onto some land holdings he had further south, make certain she was safe, and then, he would leave her there. It would be for the best. Sir Edward Gray could then just "die" conveniently and she would be Lady Gray. Her life would be her own. Whatever the fates decided for her, she would at least have a life away from the Scots court and her fears of what that court might eventually include for her.

And so, with a small entourage of servants, including a female companion for the girl, he made his way north, for the last time. He had also retrieved from hiding a small fortune as gift for the king, in appreciation of his help in this matter. Methos had also managed to appease Strathclyde's indignation about losing his retainer.

"I am growing older," he had said meekly. "I need a quiet time... a bit of respite... if you ever need me, send for me... I will come." In the end it had worked. Strathclyde had let him go, and, more importantly, had not insisted on accompanying him, or in sending courtiers along... not this time.

When he was shown into King Kenneth's audience chamber in the great hall at Forteviot this time, Methos could not help but notice how the king had aged. He looked thin and almost frail as he sat slumped in his carved chair. His gray hair and beard were now more white than gray.

Kenneth, for his part, seemed to peer narrowly at Methos while pursing his eyebrows in thought and stroking his long beard... thinking. Methos stood cautiously. He had prepared for this trip by carefully aging his appearance somewhat. Yet he felt that the king was not tricked; that he saw through the immortal's disguise.

Donald, Kenneth's brother also looked at Methos suspiciously, then leaned down to whisper something in his brother's ear. Kenneth nodded, but waved his brother away.

"Our brother, Sir Edward, does not trust your intentions at our court."

"I assure the king, I am only here to conclude our business." Methos motioned for his servant to come forward with the chest of gold he had brought with him. "An appreciation for your help and many kindness' both to myself and to the girl." Methos opened the chest.

An audible gasp went up from several of the king's men present in the room. Kenneth threw back his head and laughed heartily. "We will say this for you, Sir Edward, you do know how to impress a court."

Methos merely bowed.

Then from behind him, he felt the buzz of Aella's approach. He was careful not to acknowledge it until he also heard the rustle of cloth and the sound of her light footsteps. He turned to see the girl and was momentarily stunned.

In the five years he had been away, she had become a confident and gracious young woman. While she would never be as tall as many of the women of their kind, she had grown into a rare beauty. Her dark hair plaited down her back, shown with a soft light. Her green eyes sparkled in a face that no longer seemed to cringe at the approach of anyone. And she smiled... she smiled at him.

As she curtsied to the king, awaiting his signal to rise, Methos could not help but notice that the dress she wore was made of some of the fine gray-green wool he had sent with one of his letters. Around her neck was another of his gifts to her, a small golden torque. About her wrists were the bracelets he had sent. She was decked out in all of his gifts, as if to honor him.

Kenneth smiled warmly at her and motioned for her to rise. She did so and stood quietly beside her husband-to-be.

"We hope you are pleased, Sir Edward," Kenneth said softly.

"I am most pleased, your majesty," was all Methos could think to say.

Kenneth suddenly began coughing, his face turning purple from the effort. Aella moved swiftly to place a hand on his shoulder and motioned for a cup of water for the king. She murmured to him; gradually the coughing lessened and he nodded to her. She returned to stand beside Methos.

"We shall miss her... she has a healing touch sometimes. But, we fear this illness will be our last." Kenneth shifted in his chair. "We must conclude the arrangements and sign the final documents. You will wed today. Tonight we will feast." He motioned to a young priest to bring the papers.

Methos had no objection, indeed, the faster their business was concluded, the faster he and his party could leave. He did not wish to remain one more day than he had to. He feared what might happen if he were still at Forteviot when Kenneth died. Already he could see fear in the eyes of some of the retainers. He was not certain that Donald, the king's brother and heir would ever hold the same loyalty. Methos wanted Aella out of this place and safely in the south. Without Kenneth's protection, she was a clear target for many reasons.

Once their business was concluded, Kenneth dismissed the couple for an hour or so, until time for the formal church ceremony. They would be accompanied until then by Aella's servant and companion at the court, and an armed guard.

Methos suggested a walk in the courtyard for several reasons. One, he could get a better look about, and two, it would get them out of the hall for a bit. He led her about the yard, finally leading her to the well where he had once taught her to read. He motioned for her to sit.

She laughed softly, and sat beside him. Their escorts stood nearby.

"You have been well in the South, my lord?" Aella eventually asked.

"Very well," he answered. "And you?"

"I have tried to learn all that is necessary to become a good wife to you, but...?" her voice rose in a question. "Have you not been married before?"

"Yes," Methos nodded.

"And what happened to your first wife?"

"Oh... she died many years ago."

"Do you have children?" Aella suddenly sat a little more straightly.

"Alas, no." Methos did not elaborate. He merely tried to answer her questions as truthfully and as simply as he could.

Finally she leaned toward him and whispered, "'tis said you slew Collin McClarendon and fifty men when last you were here. There are many in this place who fear you."

Methos laughed and shook his head. "It was barely five men... but one was McClarendon."

"I am glad. I did not care for that man. Father Padraic once told me I was a wicked girl for being glad he was dead. He said it was wrong to wish for the death of any man."

"Father Padraic was probably right... however, I too am glad I killed him." They shared a secret smile and a quiet laugh. He sobered a moment, then asked, "Have you heard from your grandfather?"

"Oh," Aella said sadly, "he died last summer. They tell me that shortly before he died, he gave away all that he owned so that when he died, he went into the earth with only a shroud to cover him. But the people of the village, in honor of his great charities, have all taken the name of McCurdy to honor him, so that his name will never die."

"Did he ever know you were to be married?"

"He knew. He sent word that the Lady had kept her part of the bargain and that he would keep his." She shook her head. "I think it must have been from his wild stories that I thought I used to hear her. Father Padraic always believed I would grow out of my strangeness. I hope to prove him right. God rest his soul." Aella dutifully crossed herself, but there was a smile on her face and the hint of mischief as she did so, as if the action were something taught and not quite believed. She looked deeply into Methos' eyes, but there was no magic there... none, but the age-old magic that all women have when they gaze upon someone with eyes of love.

Her gaze made Methos uneasy. He had no plans for a long marriage; or any marriage at all if he could manage it. He was fond of the girl, but nothing more. He would make certain she was safe, then he would "die." He planned to make certain on the return journey that the female companion he had brought to serve her would continually accompany her. He planned to sleep by the campfire during the nights they traveled, while she would have the pavilion he had brought for that purpose. He supposed she would be hurt by his indifference to her, but it was for the best. He did not want a long-term relationship with an immortal; or even a potential immortal.

The rest of their time was spent in small talk. Finally the chapel bells rang, signaling evening services which would include the marriage. Before the altar in the chapel, Methos moved the gold ring from Aella's right forefinger to the one on her left hand. It was still far too big for her ring finger. The young priest blessed them and they returned with the rest of the court to the great hall for the wedding feast.

Kenneth had them seated at the head table. They were on his left, but it was still an honor. The food was truly a marvel. Roast boar, succulent trout, tasty root vegetables... each coarse was a feast for eye and nose as well as taste. Ale or a fine wine of a local vintage accompanied each course. Spirits were high and there was much jesting and many toasts.

Methos noticed that Kenneth, himself, ate and drank sparingly. The king once lifted his cup to Methos and nodded. Things had worked out well for both of them.

When the dancing began, Methos tapped his foot to the beat of the lilting music. Pipes, drums and lutes all played in concert and everyone seemed to visibly relax into the spirit of the feast. At one point Aella grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the floor to dance.

Swiftly she began to twirl and move in an intricate pattern about him that matched nothing that any of the others were doing. Around him he could hear a few snickers. He attempted to follow her movements, carefully watching her feet. She tapped and moved her feet back and forth, sliding one suddenly to the left, then tapping it and swinging around.

Another dancer leaned in and laughed, "You will never be able to follow her, Sir Edward, none of us can. None of us have ever been able to learn that dance!"

But to Methos the pattern of the dance was suddenly clear. He knew this and gradually his feet moved in answer to hers. Around and around they went, faster and faster. The steps were the symbols he had once learned from Aja... one after the other... in different combinations. Over and over they stepped through them as the music played. Just as it rose to end, they stepped the final two.

Applause broke out around them. Aella held her chest and tried to regain her breath, but the look on her face was one of joy. "You know this, she said you would! She always told me you could dance!"

It was Methos' first indication that just perhaps, there was still some glimmer of the old magic about the young woman.

As the evening wore on, he gradually relaxed. "This may just work out after all," he thought. It was shortly after that when several of the young married women gathered Aella into their midst and took off with her up the stairs. Methos was handed a large cup of wine and urged to drink.

"To keep your strength up!" someone laughed in his ear. Methos went cold inside. He suddenly had a clear feeling of what would now be expected, and he was not certain if his protestations or his preparations would help him now. Evidently, Kenneth was expecting all the forms to be obeyed in order for Methos to take the girl away. Or, if this was not Kenneth's idea, perhaps it was that of Donald or one of the others, jealous and eager to have this marriage annulled so that someone else could claim the girl. She had become a treasure, and there were many here that now wanted her.

Several of the men gathered about him, urging him to drink and filling his ears with tales of sexual conquests and ribald stories and songs. About half an hour later, when they thought he was drunk enough, they maneuvered him up the stairs to the bridal chamber, singing loudly all the way. They began to strip him of his garments and remove his weapons. Then with a ribald laugh they thrust him almost naked into the room. A bowing and oh so serious servant led him to the bed where he climbed in quietly to sit beside Aella. The young priest said a blessing over the bed and everyone withdrew, leaving the couple alone.

Outside the door, the loud drunken singing and laughter continued. The custom of charivari would likely continue outside the door for some time.

Methos glanced over at Aella. Uncertainty had returned to the girl's eyes. She did not seem to know exactly what to expect next. There was no telling what they had told her would happen. He threw the furs back and swung his legs out of the bed. He placed his head in his hands and shook his head, trying to remove the last of the alcoholic haze from his thoughts. He needed to be clear-headed now. But try as he might, he could not see a way out of this. They had taken even his knife. There was no way to fake the proof of the consummation now. One glance about the room revealed nothing that he could use. He had thought he had it all planned out... but now. He looked back at Aella and smiled weakly.

Tears brimmed in her green eyes. "Have I displeased you, my lord?" Her chin began to tremble.

"Never!" Methos murmured and turned toward her, slowly and carefully brushing her hair from her face and softly kissing each of her eyelids. He could taste the salt of her tears. His fingertips carefully caressed and teased down the side of her face and onto her shoulder.

She shuddered slightly. His kisses slowly moved from her eyes down to her cheeks and neck. He kept expanding the areas of his caresses and kisses, slowly oh so slowly. His fingers of their own accord began to trace on her the symbols he had once learned. Still, he was slow and oh so gentle. He wanted this to be as easy for her as it could be. Soon he was using both hands. Gently he removed her nightdress from her and cast it to one side. Aella shyly covered her breasts with her hands and began to tremble once more. He began again, once more slowly kissing her and caressing her gently, ever so gently. Gradually she began to respond. When her back arched slightly in his arms, he laid her back onto the bed, and began once more.

Finally he reached the area between her legs. A slight moan escaped from her as he began his ministrations in this area. When he thought she was finally ready, he whispered into her ears. "This will hurt for only a moment, trust me."

Slowly he entered her, thrusting only twice before withdrawing to spend himself on the now-bloody sheets. They would have their proof. Methos let out a long breath and then looked deeply into Aella's still fearful eyes. "That was for them, this time is for you." And he began again. This time, she responded sooner and even eagerly. The third time, she began to explore his body with her hands. And the fourth time... ahhh.

At dawn, he still lay awake in the marriage bed. Aella slept, curled into a ball and huddled close to him. A contented smile played about her lips even as she slept. Methos stroked her hair; he was not so sure of himself any longer. His plans of a quick and easy "death" seemed distasteful to him now. How could he just leave her? He suddenly realized that he did not wish to leave her. But he still knew it would be for the best. Yet, would it hurt to stay with her for just a little while?

Outside the chamber door he could hear the arrival of the priest and others. They were here to inspect the linen as proof that the marriage had been consummated. "Well it had," Methos thought, "it had." He pulled the furs over Aella to hide her nakedness. And gently nudged her. "They are here," he whispered when she stirred. She nodded and composed herself.

After he was dressed, Methos was led from the chamber while several women entered to attend to Aella. Already, the bed linens had been dutifully removed to take to the king. Methos shook his head. This was one barbaric custom he hoped would eventually pass away.

After dressing, he and Kenneth signed the final documents. They ate a light breakfast and were then joined by Aella, who was dressed for travel. Once again her choice in clothes leaned toward grays and greens. Methos nodded his approval. The horses were packed; all was in readiness for their departure.

Kenneth gave Aella a fatherly hug, accompanied by a sad little smile as they said farewell. Methos led her out of the hall and helped her onto her horse. Together they rode out the gate and down onto the high road south.

Aella spared the timber fortress one last, long, wistful look, then smiled at Methos and turned to face her future.