Kassandra Khaos: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! If you thought that one gave you feels, just wait till you read this one...
Zsozsotheonly: Szia és köszönöm! Természetesen befejezem a sztorit, csak amikor azt írtam, egy kicsit elvoltam keseredve. De már visszapattantam! Egyébként mindig próbálom valahogy Magyarországot/Magyart beleszőni a sztoriaimba, még a Hobbitosba is. Te Magyarországon élsz, amúgy?
partygirl98: Thank you! This is a sad chapter, as well, (oops...), at least at first. Next chapter will probably not be so tragic, haha.
Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story! Ya'll make my day, truly. *hugs*
Enjoy! :)
And right there where we stood was holy ground.
-"Holy Ground", Taylor Swift
Chapter 21: Scars from the Past
Guy and Ajsa spoke little after Meg's death. They buried her where she lay, adorning her grave with wildflowers and a makeshift wooden cross. Although she knew there was nothing she could have done, Ajsa nevertheless felt responsible for including Meg in her plan. If she had freed Gisborne alone, the girl would still be alive. But her own guilt was nothing compared to Guy's.
"She pushed me out of the way," he said, astonishment coloring his voice. "Do you think she knew what she was doing, or was it merely an instinct?" He looked at Ajsa, desperate for her to vindicate him.
She sighed, sitting down on a fallen log. They had been trekking through the forest for hours, and her feet were starting to hurt.
"I do not know what Meg was thinking when she shielded you from that halberd," Ajsa replied. "It may have been premeditated," she said, and Gisborne's face fell, "or it may have been spontaneous."
"You didn't jump in front of me," he pointed out.
"Meg was closer." Guy averted his gaze, but Ajsa leaned forward so that he had no choice but to look at her. "Would I have?" she asked, voicing the question he was reluctant to consider. "I do not know. It has been a long time since I have had a person for whom I would sacrifice myself."
Guy closed his eyes. "Your husband," he said hollowly.
"Yes," Ajsa said, "and no." His eyes snapped open, and he stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and hope. Reaching for his hand, she pulled him down to sit beside her on the log. "Because you are important to me, you deserve to know about my past. It is true that I had a husband, but he died in the Holy Land."
"He was a soldier," remarked Gisborne, surprised.
Ajsa nodded. "An English one, at that," she added, smiling at Guy's bemused expression. "As I told you, I accompanied my father to the Holy Land and worked as a nurse. Richard was one of the wounded I tended to. I learned English from him, among other skills."
"Such as how to break a man's nose," supplied Gisborne, remembering her conversation with Meg. His lips twitched in fond amusement, despite the recent tragedy.
"Yes, such as that," Ajsa affirmed. "We were not married long before he was killed in the fighting. I could not save him either." Her voice quivered with emotion she rarely allowed herself to feel anymore, and Gisborne's heart ached for her. But he resisted the urge the envelop her in his arms. "Nor could I save our child."
"Dear God," he breathed, his stomach clenching from her confession. "Ajsa, I-"
"Do not pity me," she snapped at him, but her eyes shimmered with tears. When the first of them fell, leaving trails along her dirt-smudged cheeks, Guy could remain idle no longer. He lifted her easily into his lap and held her while she cried for her husband, her child, and for Meg.
He was no stranger to tragedy, but his experiences paled in comparison to the pain and suffering Ajsa had endured. She had lost not only her parents and husband, but her own flesh and blood, as well. To lose one's babe... Guy could not even begin to imagine how that must have felt.
He brushed his lips against her forehead and stroked her hair, unwillingly reminded of another time he had comforted a grieving woman. He had made a grave mistake then, one which he would not repeat.
"I don't pity you," he said finally. "I admire you." Taking deep, steadying breaths, Ajsa glanced up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Guy gave her a half-smile. "Life has burdened you, but not hardened or defeated you. I envy your courage to still treat others with kindness."
"You are wrong," she said, with a shake of her head. Fresh tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. "There are days when the memories threaten to overwhelm me. Sometimes I swear I hear my daughter's cries, and I cannot sleep, for fear of the dreams that may visit me."
"How did she die?" he asked softly.
For an instant, the sadness in Ajsa's features was replaced with anger. Then she hung her head, as if in shame.
"A fever," she whispered. "She had a fever for days. I gave her yarrow and feverfew, and I wrapped her little feet in vinegar-soaked cloths, but her fever continued to rage. She would not nurse, so I gave her boiled sheep's milk, but she would not take that either." Ajsa stared blankly ahead. "And then one night, her crying stopped and did not start again."
It was only when he felt moisture on his own cheek that he realized he was crying. He touched the teardrop and stared at Ajsa with something akin to awe. Never before had he felt another's heartache so poignantly.
"I don't know what to say," he confessed. She shook her head and offered him a rueful smile, but Gisborne was not satisfied with his reaction. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair, and wished he could take away her pain, even if that meant absorbing it into himself.
She continued her narrative, her voice slightly muffled by his chest.
"I do not know what caused the fever, and, initially, I was not concerned. Young children often get fevers, and it is usually safest to allow them to run their course. But she got hotter and hotter...and she stopped taking in liquids..." Ajsa clung to him as the memories resurfaced. "I was helpless, like I was with Richard and Meg. It is a terrible thing to watch a loved one dying and not be able to do anything."
Guy could not relate. The last time he'd watched a loved one die, he had been the cause of her death. A pang of self-loathing rose like bile, but he swallowed it down for Ajsa's sake. She needed him now, and he would not disappoint her.
"And was your hus-," he began, then cleared his throat, "Richard there, as well?"
"No," said Ajsa, with a bitter laugh. "He had died a few weeks before our daughter was born." She fell silent for a moment, picking at a loose string on Gisborne's tunic, before she spoke again, more hesitantly this time. "Sometimes I wonder if the shock caused her illness, if perhaps my sorrow somehow reached her while she was in my womb."
He pulled away to fix her with a hard look. "You're not responsible for their deaths, Ajsa," he said firmly.
That bitter laugh again. "A healer who cannot heal is always partly responsible. That is my duty, and I failed in it."
"No, you didn't," Guy insisted. "Sometimes things are out of our control. Sometimes things aren't meant to be."
He did not realize his blunder until Ajsa's expression darkened.
"So you are suggesting that my child was not meant to live?"
Wincing, he scrubbed his face in frustration. "I-I don't know what I'm suggesting. Comforting others is not one of my skills."
"Perhaps she was not," Ajsa said quietly. "Both Christians and Pagans believe that everything happens for a reason. The difference is merely between who or what dictates such events."
"In Christianity, God decides who lives and dies," supplied Gisborne.
"While in Paganism, it is nature that decides."
"Nature, as in Mother Earth?" he inquired. One of the Pagans imprisoned by the Sheriff had uttered something to that effect.
Ajsa grinned, and although Guy knew he was the source of her amusement, he was nevertheless glad to see a lighter emotion on her face.
"In a sense," she agreed. "But that is too simplistic an explanation. Everything is entwined-Mother Earth, her plants, her animals, and humans. There is a balance within each individual component, and if that balance is thrown off, that is when droughts occur or humans fall ill."
"So according to Paganism, your daughter was sick because her body was...out of balance?"
"Yes," said Ajsa. "I do not understand what causes sickness, but I know it is more complicated than 'the will of God'. I have seen inside animals, and they are complex, therefore humans must be equally, if not more, complex." She saw Gisborne's gaze grow wary at her implication, but forged on regardless. "When you were in the Holy Land, did you interact with any of the Saracens you killed?"
"No," he said, his lip curling in derision. "They're heathens."
She sighed, half in exasperation and half in disappointment.
"This is precisely what is wrong with Christianity. Its narrow-mindedness cripples it and its believers." Guy would not argue with that, but he thought her interpretation was slightly flawed. Curious, however, he did not interrupt her. "If you had interacted with the Muslims, you may have learned about their healing methods. They do not merely mix potions, they also have a staggering knowledge of how the human body works. They know the causes of ailments that Christians attribute to God, and often, how to cure them."
"Couldn't they cure your daughter, then?"
"They might have been able to," said Ajsa, sadness creeping into her voice once more, "but my father and I had already left the Holy Land to return home."
Mentally berating himself for his thoughtlessness, Gisborne racked his brain for an appropriate response. He had never been particularly adept at dealing with emotions, but for Ajsa, he would try.
"I'm so sorry," he said, and he meant it.
She rewarded him with a smile. It was fleeting and shaky, but he felt reassured by it.
"It has been five years, so the pain has dulled somewhat."
"And you haven't...been with a man since then?" he asked carefully.
"No," she replied, with a shake of her head, "you are the first since Richard." Ajsa kissed his jaw and met his gaze. "Men have tried, of course, but none sparked my interest. You, however, have demons, like I do. You have also known loss."
He was baffled by her reasoning. "You're interested in me because I'm broken?"
"In a way," she affirmed and flashed him a wry smile. "I am interested in you because you are healing. The bad is slowly being replaced by good, and it is remarkable to witness that."
"I'm not a good man," he warned her.
"A wicked man would not mourn a girl he had only known for a day."
"A good man wouldn't murder a woman he loved because she loved another," he countered.
"I did not say you were always a good man," Ajsa quipped, bringing the shadow of a smile to Gisborne's lips. "Rather, you are becoming one, and I am happy to be present for that."
Guy smiled tenderly at her, his gaze full of affection. "You're more than present for it," he explained. "You're the catalyst of it. I tried to be a better man for Marian and ultimately failed. I will not fail you, Ajsa," he said and bent down to kiss her.
"It is not I you must not fail," she said, stroking his cheek, "it is yourself. Be a better man for you, and you will therefore be a better man for me."
"So you intend to...remain with me?"
His hopeful tone tugged at Ajsa's heart, and she leant up to kiss him, allowing her lips to linger and meld with his. When they separated, she touched her forehead to his.
"I do," she answered.
"Thank God," he whispered and cupped her cheeks. She gave him a disapproving stare, and he smirked. "Thank Mother Earth, then. Is that better?"
"Infinitely," Ajsa said, with a laugh, and Guy thought he could scarcely be happier.