A Shadow of the Past

Fallon tried to conceal her awe of the largeness of the Castle Dor from Salomon. He already thought her some ignorant peasant. She was not going to give him more cause to think so. As she tried to keep up with his brisk stride, she wondered at the strange look in his eyes as helped her dismount. Behind those dark blue-gray pools was something she couldn't quite place, something that was dangerously close to lust.

She had not had much experience with the opposite sex at all in all her sixteen years. She had been admired by some since the years upon entering her womanhood, but none of them had awakened that passionate all-consuming feeling deep within her that she expected to feel when she was in love. No man had touched that cord in her soul that would make her theirs forever.

What she had seen in Salomon's eyes frightened her to think about. Had she seen anything? Could she be imagining it all? That was more likely. After all, he was nearly a king, and although she might by birth be the daughter of a princess, in rearing she was only a peasant's child.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Fallon saw a woman staring at her. The woman was old, older than Erin- her foster mother- with hair that was more gray than brown. The skin of her face was slack with wrinkles. There was nothing really remarkable about her, except for the fact that she was staring at Fallon. Fallon returned the woman's gaze until she was nearly out of sight, and then, puzzled, turned to Salomon. "That woman back there," she said, "Who was that?"

"Hmmm?" He jerked and looked at her a moment. Then turned and looked over his shoulder at the older woman. "Oh her," he continued, turning back to Fallon, "That is Bragnae. She came here around seventeen years ago with Isolde, the princess of Ireland when she married Marke. She was the princess's maid. After Isolde disappeared, Bragnae remained, having no where else to go. Why?"

"No reason," Fallon replied quickly, "I was simply wondering." He turned his attention back to walking without question. Fallon looked back over her shoulder, searching vainly for the woman, but she had already gone. Fallon felt a pang of anguish in her heart at learning who this woman was. Bragnae, the maid of the Princess Isolde. She could tell Fallon things about her mother, provide her with more information than Erin or Willem could give her. But why had Bragnae been staring at her?

She realized that she was falling more and more behind Salomon and had to jog to keep up with his long strides. "Why don't you walk a little faster?" she mumbled sarcastically when she finally caught up to him.

He turned and looked at her darkly from beneath lowered eyebrows. She wondered why he had become so gloomy all of a sudden. True, he had not been very pleasant company before, but he had not been so dark looking either. The look in his eyes almost made her flinch. "Keep up," he said sternly. Then he continued walking.

Fallon huffed and rolled her eyes. "Could you at least tell me where exactly we're going?" she demanded.

"First," he turned to look at her again. A little of the sarcastic mockery that had been there before returned as he looked her up and down. She suddenly became aware of her drenched hair and cloak, and the way she must appear. She must look like a drowned rat. Her suspicions were confirmed when he continued, "I'll have you taken to a room and a maid sent up to prepare you. Then I will escort you to dinner where you will meet the king."

Fallon's eyebrows climbed to the top of her forehead. Meet the king?

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Bragnae rushed to the room that she had been told to go to. She knew she was to be attending the mysterious girl she saw in the courtyard. The girl who looked startlingly like her former mistress, the princess Isolde. She didn't have the light hair, and some of her facial features were a bit more blunt. But her beautiful emerald eyes, ivory skin, and prominent cheek bones were those of Isolde. It had been almost 17 years since she had last seen the princess. This girl looked to be about 16. The time was right. Could it be? No, she couldn't dare to hope.

But as she continued down the hall, the thought kept popping up, unbidden in her mind. Could this be the daughter of Isolde and either Tristan or Lord Marke? Bragnae could not decide who would be the father if- if- this was in fact the long lost daughter of Isolde. It could certainly be either. But something inside Bragnae- some dreamy romantic part of herself- said that if Isolde conceived a child, it would have been Tristan's, a child conceived in love. True, Isolde had come to care for Lord Marke, but not as she loved Tristan. She had loved Tristan enough to risk the king's fury by going out to meet him regularly. And Bragnae knew that she had witnessed only a fraction of the depth of that love. She knew that the love of Tristan and Isolde ran deeper than anyone would ever know or understand.

She took a deep breath when she reached the door to the room that she knew the girl would be in. Then she slowly pushed the door open.

The startled young woman jumped and turned from the mirror she was looking into to stare at Bragnae. Her cloak was removed and thrown carelessly over a nearby chair. Her dark hair was drenched with rain and clung to her lovely face. Her dress was muddy, wet, and torn in some places. She certainly did not look like the daughter of a princess then. Bragnae had quite a bit of work cut out for her if this young woman was going to meet the king.

Bragnae curtsied in greeting. "Good evening, milady," she said meekly. She didn't really look like much of a lady, but if she was to have dinner with the king and Prince Salomon, she must be more than she appeared. "My name is Bragnae. I am to help you prepare for the evening."

The girl's sparkling green eyes- Isolde's eyes- widened a fraction. "Oh," she said softly, then a little louder, "My name is Fallon."

Fallon. So she finally had a name. She wondered…. No. It couldn't be. It was merely coincidence.

"If you would sit down please, milady," Bragnae began, but Fallon interrupted her.

"Please don't call me 'milady,'" she said hurriedly, an odd look coming into her eyes. "I am not a lady. Simply call me Fallon."

Bragnae hesitated a little before replying. It was odd for her to address someone she did not know very well by their first name. Finally she said, "All right… Fallon, if you would please sit down I can start working on the tangles in your hair." Fallon nodded and complied.

Bragnae walked to the back of the chair, gently took Fallon's head, and began working out the wet mass of tangles. After a moment, Fallon spoke. "I saw you in the courtyard," she said hesitatingly, "You were staring at me. Why?"

Bragnae flushed crimson and she was glad the girl could not see her. So she had noticed her staring. How could she have been so careless? Well she might as well answer the girl. "Oh, aye," she began nervously, "You just… you just looked like someone I used to know. An old charge of mine."

For some reason, Fallon's face paled visibly. Bragnae drew her brows together and looked at the girl in puzzlement. "What is it, child?" she asked, suddenly taking on a familiar and concerned tone that she had not taken often with anybody since Isolde's disappearance. "I'm sorry for staring, but I…"

"No, no," Fallon said hastily, "I'm not upset about that. It's just… well… I… Oh, never mind!"

After a moment, Bragnae continued with her brushing. Fallon really would be beautiful when she was cleaned up. That was obvious. She had lovely features under the dirt. She brushed out all of Fallon's long hair until it fell in soft curls down her back and shone. It was still a little damp from the rain- which you could now hear coming down hard outside- but it would dry well before dinner. "Here," she said as she dipped a cloth into a basin of lukewarm water, "Let me wash the dust off your face." She knelt in front of her and began to gently dab at her face. Bragnae noticed that her eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears. This confused her even more. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, Fallon blurted out:

"The charge you spoke of, she was the Princess Isolde."

It wasn't a question, but Bragnae nodded anyway. "Yes, I took care of her from the time she was a child until she disappeared almost 17 years ago. Why do you ask?"

Fallon opened her mouth a few times, making soft choking sounds, before speaking. Slowly a tear trickled down her cheek. "I… She…" Her voice trailed off to a whisper. "She was my mother."

Bragnae's hands fell away from Fallon's face, and she slumped down. What she had suspected was true. Now that Fallon had confirmed it, Bragnae could no longer deny. This was Isolde's child. Her daughter. As she looked into the young woman's eyes it was like looking into the eyes of her mother. She was a shadow of the past.