Chapter 2- Encounters
After she had eaten, Abigail went to pray to the gods for guidance and wisdom in her plight.
Abby pulled on her cloak and climbed out of her three-storey window. Being an Arulanthian nobleman's daughter, looked after by strict traditional governesses, the Earl's daughter was not even allowed to ride her gentle mare alone.
However, Abby knew and was capable of far more than most could imagine. Behind her Father's and her nursemaids' and tutor's backs and with the help of one of the few nice maids, Terry, she had learnt sparse amounts of archery and some domestic arts, such as cooking and cleaning. Abigail was even an accomplished seamstress and had sewn some of her gowns. With the help of Keosha and a few sheets filched by Terry, Abby managed to use her window as a means of exit, unbeknownst to her father.
Hidden by cover of darkness, Abigail walked silently to the Abbey of Remaneen.
Remaneen was one half of the Immortal Deities. She and her husband, the celestial Solaro, co-ruled all the Known Lands. She was a goddess of mercy and indemnity. She gave those who worshipped her peace of mind to either accept their lot or to be calm in opposing it. She often gave opportunities to people and usually the words to speak so people would listen. Abigail planned to pray to Remaneen for guidance and calm. Hopefully, Remaneen would smile on her.
Knowing that her Father would be in his study or his library for only an hour longer, the young noblewoman had hurried to the sacred building.
Abigail arrived at the abbey in plenty of time. Taking off her shoes, (temples are built on holy ground, purified by the Two themselves) Abigail made her way past the guards of the temple and into the building.
The moment she stepped into the temple, Abby felt the awesome power that was the consecrated ground of Remaneen. Kneeling at the altar, Abigail prayed furiously but humbly to Remaneen. 'Oh, goddess of wisdom. Please, oh; please give me some of your peace to accept my lot! I need to get through this! Help me, goddess! Please!' Abigail began to cry silently and let her worries pour out to Remaneen. 'How could he do this? To be sent to court, away form my friends and the people I'd grown up beside is so, so cruel! Oh, goddess Remaneen, majesty, give me wisdom and peace in my lot. I've got a feeling that I'll need it!' As she ended her prayer, a blanket of calm spread upon Abigail. Abby suddenly felt confident that Remaneen would help her.
"Thank you," Abigail whispered the goddess. A breath of wind rustled her cloaked head and Abigail smiled. Although Remaneen was only a shadow of the Mother, it was in her name that most prayed. Asking the Mother directly was rarely done. But it was done...Abigail decided to try the Mother.
Getting up, Abigail walked out of the Temple part of the Abbey and past the guards toward the more impressive temple of the Mother Goddess.
A cobble-stoned walkway with women guards every ten feet armed with spears and poniards. These women knew how to use their weapons, they were chosen by the high Priestess of the Goddess Herself at birth and were raised, saturated in the Goddess's holiness. They were there to keep any men from touching the consecrated soil the temple was built on, though men with a written letter from Solaro's High Priest himself could sometimes enter a temple.
A priestess on either side of the beginning of the petal- strewn walkway studied Abby for a moment before admitting her. The nervous young woman walked down the walkway towards the entrance of the temple. The guards watched Abby as she passed them.
Finally, Abigail reached the pillars marking the open-air part of the temple. Rose bushes everywhere, crawling roses, mini roses, red, yellow, pink, white roses all over the place. The rose was the flower sacred the Mother goddess. A statue of the Mother stood at the end of the aisle.
The columns were of marble as was the bowl for burning incense that was placed infront of the statue of the Goddess.
Abigail placed the petals of the red roses in her garden in the incense bowl and placed her own sticks of expensive incense in with the petals. As she lit the incense, Abigail bent over and inhaled the beautiful scent.
She rose and walked slowing back into the indoor temple. Kneeling behind one of the many marble kneeling-bars, Abigail asked for the goddess's blessing on her trip. She asked for her Father to reconsider sending her away. Abigail felt the Goddess's blessing. Aloud she raised yet another plea;
"Goddess, Mother of All, please, oh Queen, keep me from leaving my home!"
She felt her answer to her final plea. In a voice that was centuries old, a voice that sounded of the hounds and the terrible, yet awesome power of winds, the answer to her plea was a clear and firm,
"No."
Abigail shuddered at the realisation that The Great Mother Goddess was talking to her. She swallowed and tried to accept the Goddess's decision. The Two would not prevent her journey to Court...to an arranged husband. She bit her lip to keep from cursing as she bowed in 'submission and acceptance'. The young noblewoman pursed her lips as she passed the priestesses and the guards, angry that the women were probably able to deduce the outcome of her visit.
Making her way home, Abigail was too deep in thought when she bumped into another person, also deep in thought. The result was for both parties to say 'oh!'
The person Abby had bumped into was a tall, dark, handsome fellow. Though dressed in cotton breaches and a cotton shirt, the man's cloths were obviously of good quality. Abigail curtsied and said in a slightly muffled voice,
"Pardon me, sir." The man was obviously of true noble birth for he replied in a gentle voice,
"'Twas my fault, gentle lady. For I did not see you walking there. May I safely assume that you are unharmed? Might I also have the pleasure of your name?" Abigail knew the man was trying to see her face, so she tilted her face downwards, to look at her shoes. Abigail did not want talk to get out that she roved the countryside alone, so she replied softly,
"I am no lady, sir. A girl from the village who was not paying attention, milord. And I am well." In dismay Abby realised that her speech was ample proof of a genteel upbringing. Surveying him through her lashes, Abby knew that this unknown man had realised it too. He seemed to be trying to figure out why she was lying about her upbringing. He reached out as if to place a hand on her arm, but did not, for one did not touch another noble. He stopped and told her,
"I know not why you lie, lady, for you are of gentle breeding, not of common birth. Your speech reveals you. Why are you out alone on the road?"
"I lie for the fact that a noble woman should not be wandering alone." Abigail glanced up at this unknown. "You have not told me your name, sir." The man laughed,
"Nor have you. But my name is Sir Marcus DeBracey. And yours, gentle lady?" a lock of brunette hair fell forward from under her hooded head. A gentle hand reached foreward and brushed it back.
Abigail looked up, startled, and Sir Marcus DeBracey used her surprise to catch and hold her chin up to the moonlight. Abigail flushed and tried to look down again, but his grip was firm. Abigail decided not to look down any more, he may think her ashamed of herself. She brushed his hand away and flushed again when their hands touched.
He was still staring at her and Abigail mentally rolled her eyes, discarded her pathetic alias, and gave him look for look. He had longish chocolate brown hair that if it hadn't been tied in a horsetail brushed his broad shoulders in waves. Thick eyebrows over lively greenish brown eyes, which were subtly framed with long eyelashes. His nose was as narrow as her own nose, though it had a fleshier tip, and he too had a dimple, though she almost didn't notice it.
Abigail stared at him; she had never seen his equal in masculine beauty!
Sir Marcus DeBracey had been thinking of Lady Jeanine, the woman all supposed he would marry. Oh, she was a beautiful one to be sure. And kind to her servants, soft-spoken, fragile. And wealthy, something every man wants in a wife. But something was lacking, something important. What was it? Physical things perhaps, but no, blonde hair, deep drown eyes, tall, shapely, lovely voice, wonderful dancer, what as it? Morals, perhaps? Still no, prayed to the Two, never looked at another man, what could it be? She was clever as well; Lady Jeanine could read and write with eloquence, so it wasn't lack of intelligence.
Around then, he had bumped into a young woman who had also been walking, distracted along the road. Sir Marcus was curious at why she was lying about her birth, and yet she gave him no answers. He tried again,
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to give my your name, gentle lady." The young noblewoman bit her lip and said,
"Would it matter much if I did not give you my name?" Marcus frowned,
"Why are you so reluctant to give me your name, lady?" The unknown noblewoman sighed and told him in a resigned voice,
"If you truly must know, I am Lady Abigail, daughter of the Earl of Mattensworth. I was returning from the Temples when I so rudely bumped into you. Forgive me, Sir DeBracey." The knight was frowning. Had not this young lady any sense at all? The Earl of Mattensworth was renowned for his intelligence (techinically his cunning, but the young noble brushed that aside); surely some would have been passed to his daughter.
He had heard a story not so long ago, a friend had assured him that she had, without her Father's knowing, dismissed the scribe who wrote her Father's letters because the scribe had been employed by one of her Father's adversaries, there to see her father's business moves. How she knew, his friend could not say.
Even so, no respectable woman would wander the road alone, 'twould be unthinkable! 'This girl is lying!' He thought angrily. Sir Marcus reached out regardless off etiquette, and gripped her arm, hard and said,
"No more nonsense, wench! Do not lie to me! Why are you telling me you are Lady Abigail? Who are you really?" With this last sentence, Sir Marcus shook her slightly. The girl gasped and said,
"I am Lady Abigail! What rights have you to doubt me?" The impostor's voice was angry, 'Upset that I have thwarted her scheme,' Thought Sir Marcus. Sir Marcus glared at her and sneered,
"Alright, 'Lady Abigail', we shall go to your 'home' and see if anyone can collaborate your story." With that, He pulled her along the deserted road towards the Mattensworth Manor.
"It does not bother me that you are 'escorting' me home, sir." That unsettled Sir Marcus. If she was what he though she was, she should be worried. They reached the gate and the wench stopped,
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sir Marcus frowned,
"Why wouldn't I be sure?"
"I snuck out to the Temples because my Father does not worship our gods!" When Sir Marcus glared, she continued, "He does not believe they have any hold on him. I could not ask for anyone to accompany me because they would either tell my Father or fail to conceal our visit. Please Sir, do not talk to my Father." At the end of this, there were tears in her eyes and Sir Marcus, although he did not fully believe her, took pity on her and spoke gentler to her.
"Is there any way you can get into the house to find someone the verify your identity without your Father knowing?" The girl nodded and motioned for him to follow her.
With Sir Marcus DeBracey following closely behind, the girl crept up to the house and peered into one of the many windows. Sir Marcus did likewise. Through the window, they saw the Earl of Mattensworth sitting in a chair, drinking brandy while reading.
The girl smiled and walked around the house to the eastern side. Taking up a rock, she threw it skilfully at one of the windows. A moment later a rope ladder was thrown down to the ground. In the dim moonlight, Sir Marcus could see a girl in a maid's uniform climbing down. When she had reached the ground she placed her hands on her hips and glared at the young woman,
"Abby! What are you doing out here? And whose that?" The maid motioned to Sir Marcus. Lady Abigail turned to him,
"Is this enough proof for you, Sir DeBracey?" Lady Abigail asked. The knight bowed and said,
"Forgive my doubting your word, Lady Abigail." He turned to the maid; "I thank you for clearing a misunderstanding up." His tone indicated a note of dismissal, but the maid turned the Lady Abigail and only at her nod curtsied and began climbing again. Sir Marcus waited until she was in the window before turning to Lady Abigail and saying humbly,
"I'm afraid I've been a fool, milady." A small smile perched on his lips and Abigail smiled,
"We all make mistakes Sir DeBracey. It was partly my fault." Her beauty had stunned Sir DeBracey when he had first met her and with her smile, he felt suddenly breathless, looking deep into her lavender eyes.
He forgot about his parents, his friends, the courtiers, and Lady Jeanine, and leaned down towards Lady Abigail. Placing one hand around her waist and the other tilted her chin gently upwards, he leaned down and kissed her.
Lady Abigail trembled and blushed. She had not pushed away so he leaned down again, and kissed her harder this time. When they pulled apart, Abby looked at him and flushed an even deeper pink.
"You do not even know me, sir." She whispered. Sir Marcus smiled at her and said,
"I realise that, but your beauty...your eyes, you overwhealmed me. I have not heard that you were a famed beauty, Lady. And, do call me Marcus, please." Abigail smiled with pleasure and looked down. Marcus continued,
"Before I leave, may I ask why you do not grace King James's Court? Actually, upon reflection, I don't want to know, for you were there, all the noble men would be begging to dance with you. Furthermore, they would pay just to gaze upon you. No, I am glad I have seen the most beautiful woman in the entire world before King James himself." Marcus placed the hand that was not upon her waist at the back of her head and kissed her gently once more.
He drew back Abigail's hood and gazed upon her fully. What creamy skin! What beautiful eyes! He had never seen such lovely eyes! And her lips, so full, and warm, and inviting! 'Stop this, Marcus! Stop right now! Leave! This isn't right, she probably thinks you intimidating; leave her be!,' Urged his conscience.
As Marcus gazed into the lavender depth that were her eyes, he thought, 'I'll never marry Jeanine now, I couldn't!'
"I must leave, you..." He gazed searchingly at her; "Do you hate me?" The surprise in her eyes was all he needed, but she answered,
"For what, Sir, I mean Marcus?" He smiled in relief and said,
"For kissing you without knowing you long." Abigail smiled and said,
"Believe me Marcus," She stopped and then said, "Before I go on, it is too uncomfortable, so I shall call you Sir Marcus." She faltered before continuing, "anyway, if after the shock of the first kiss was over, if I wanted to I could have pushed you away. However..." Abby stopped again and flushed, "However, I, er, enjoyed it when you kissed me." Abigail swallowed.
Marcus smiled and then whispered,"Then, before I leave, may I?" Abby flushed a cherry pink and said,
"If you feel that you want to." Marcus smiled down at her and said ever so softly, "It isn't that I simply want to, it is that I need to." With that he planted a firm and long kiss on her mouth and held her hand for a moment before walking quickly away.