Chapter Nine

T he darkness gave way to light.

Ailsa blinked. Everything was shrouded in mist. But there was someone there. Ailsa focused and her vision began to clear. It was a girl, likely the same age as she was.

"Hello," the girl greeted her kindly. "Have they sent you to be my companion? That is very kind."

Ailsa found it hard to think. But she managed to remember a few details. "Brigitta?"

"Yes." She clapped her hands together, her expression full of anticipation. "What part of music do you sing? Give me a few notes."

Ailsa sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Strangely, the chamber became brighter. She opened her mouth and sang a few lines.

"How wonderful," Brigitta said excitedly. "We can sing complimenting parts. What instruments do you play?"

Brigitta extended her hand in the direction of several musical instruments. As far as education went, Brigitta had been tutored very finely. Just as Ailsa had been. She pointed at the harp.

"We shall have no dull days at all," Brigitta exclaimed. "Come away from the bed."

It was a very simple thing, to get out of bed. Yet Ailsa found herself looking at the floor. A fine mist still flowed over it. Putting her feet on to it made her shiver. Beneath her bare feet, the floor was very cold. With each step, that chill went deeper into Ailsa's bones.

Brigitta had started humming. She was dancing too. She extended her hands toward Ailsa.

"I have been alone for what seems like such a long time. Come…let us begin our friendship."

Looking down, Ailsa saw the mists, but she also saw a fine silk skirt. She didn't recall dressing, yet she was clothed in a very pretty spring gown. It was fitting, for it matched Brigitta's.

"Come…come…," Brigitta urged her.

Ailsa lifted her hand and placed it into Brigitta's.

*

"No…" Diarmuid shook Ailsa. "Ailsa?"

"Diarmuid?"

Laird Keith stood in the chamber. "Blessed Mother of Christ. Ye are alive!"

His father wrapped him in a fierce hug. Diarmuid pushed free of his father's embrace and leaned over his wife.

"What ails the lass?" Errol asked.

Diarmuid heard Ailsa struggling to breathe. "Poison," Diarmuid growled. "In the cider that I bid her drink. Likely placed there to finish me off should I awake after the blow on the back of me skull."

"That is what laid ye low." Errol shook his head. "We will find the culprit."

His father frowned for only a short time before he drew in a breath and resumed smiling.

"How can ye smile?" Diarmuid demanded.

"What would ye have me do, Diarmuid?" Errol asked pointedly. "Shall I shed tears for the lass? I did not know her."

"Without her, I would be dead," Diarmuid reminded his father. "Brigitta did her best to make me choose an eternity with her."

Laird Keith made the sign of the cross over himself.

"If I could thank the lass, I would," Errol insisted. "But I cannot. It seems that Brigitta will at long last have some company in the Maiden's Tower. I will get the priest."

Diarmuid felt his blood go cold. His father left, considering the matter done.

"I am so happy to have company at long last…"

Diarmuid recalled Brigitta's words clearly. He shook his head. Something inside of him refused to accept that Ailsa was lost to him.

Ailsa still drew breath. She hadn't given up on him. So, he wouldn't give up on her. He was already on his way across the chamber before he finished thinking.

The beeswax candles had burned low. The flames were flickering, heralding darkness. Outside, the wind started howling once more. A rumble of thunder announced another storm was coming.

He knew the true source of that storm now.

"Ye can nae have her, Brigitta," Diarmuid stated firmly. He reached for the handle of the pitcher and drank straight from it.

He moved toward the bed where Ailsa lay.

"I will rescue ye, lass, or join ye in eternity."

*

Brigitta turned around in the final step of the dance. Her silk skirt fluttered down while she laughed.

"Oh, that was very delightful!" She clapped her hands together.

Ailsa was smiling too. The dancing was wonderful. Hadn't she dreamed of dancing and…the other thing eluded her. But there was definitely something else she had been anticipating.

The candles in the chamber flickered. Ailsa looked around but all she could see was the mist surrounding her.

"Let's try a French dance next," Brigitta suggested.

"This lady has promised me the next dance."

Ailsa blinked. Oh yes, Diarmuid. That was the thing she was trying to remember. He came right out of the mist.

"You should go back the way you came." Brigitta pushed her lips into a muse. "One of you must stay. It is so lonely here. Please."

Diarmuid was beside Ailsa. She recalled how hard and warm he was. Somehow, she'd become chilled without realizing it.

"Why did you come back?" Brigitta asked. "You may not want to stay but does that mean I am to have no one again?"

"Ailsa is my wife," Diarmuid stated firmly. "It is my duty to come for her. She is too young to die."

Die. Ailsa suddenly recalled that Brigitta was dead.

"I was also too young to die," Brigitta said mournfully. She collapsed onto a bench, her silk skirts collapsing around her like a wilting flower.

"Ye were," Diarmuid agreed. "I am sorry. Yet the best I can do is to ensure me wife does nae suffer the same fate."

Brigitta looked at Ailsa with pleading eyes. "Could we not be the very best of friends? It is so lonely here."

"You do not have to stay here," Ailsa said. She didn't actually think about the words. They seemed to flow right out of her from some unseen source.

Brigitta perked up a little. "I was told to wait for my groom."

"He is long dead," Diarmuid said. "Your duty is finished."

"Am I dead?" Brigitta asked.

"Yes," Ailsa answered.

Brigitta returned to looking forlorn. "I was obedient. I waited. Why am I stuck here?"

The mist shifted. It flowed across the floor toward the wall behind Brigitta. It fed into a swirling circle that was full of angel wings. It was as golden and pure as Ailsa had always heard the portal to heaven would be. All of her worries simply evaporated.

Ailsa smiled. "It looks like you have a choice, Brigitta."

Diarmuid held Ailsa next to him with a firm arm around her waist. Brigitta turned to face the whirlpool. She was instantly illuminated. A figure stood there; each hand extended with a red, ripe rose on each palm.

"You may choose," the angel said. He lifted one hand slightly. "Another earthly life or a journey into what is beyond."

"What of my friends?" Brigitta asked. "They were kind to me, when no one else ever was. Are they to die? I would have liked very much to have a man willing to drink poison in order to rescue me."

The angel looked toward Ailsa and Diarmuid. Without a doubt, their fate was within this Eternal Being's control. Ailsa felt Diarmuid's arm tighten around her waist.

"Whatever is to be, we shall do it together, lass," he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she answered him. "I am not afraid. For you are with me."

The angel seemed to know what they said. The Celestial Entity filled them both with a warm, golden light that left Ailsa with tears in her eyes. She'd never been so completely filled with joy before. There simply wasn't room inside of her for any other feeling.

"Oh…thank you," Brigitta muttered in gratitude.

The angel's lips curved into a slight smile. "The time is upon you, Brigitta…choose now."

Brigitta nodded, looking between the roses. With a little nod, Brigitta reached for one of the roses. The moment her fingertip touched it, Ailsa felt as if the floor gave way beneath her.

She was falling through darkness with Diarmuid holding her tightly. On their way back to the mortal world and a future with one another.

*

"Ailsa?"

Someone shook her. Whoever it was, their hands were large and strong.

"Wake up, my love."

Ailsa opened her eyes to find Diarmuid leaning over her. Worry was etched into his face. She reached up to smooth some of the creases away. "You do not know me well enough to love me. Even if I suspect I love you."

Diarmuid lifted one eyebrow. "We have crossed over the boundary between the living and the dead together, lass. I know ye are the other half of my soul. I suppose a poet would call it love, so I shall as well."

He scooped her up and carried her toward the door. The candles had burned out, trails of smoke turning the air bitter.

"I am taking ye to our chamber, lass," he told her. "We'll have a long, happy life there."

"Put me down so I can follow you," Ailsa insisted. "We should enter our new life together."

Ailsa saw the smile split his face before he lowered her feet to the floor. Diarmuid clasped her hand in his and pulled her through the chamber doorway.

Ailsa had to hurry to keep up with his pace and she was happy to do so.

The future awaited!

*

Dawn arrived with bright sunlight. Only fluffy white clouds remained in the sky. Just as the first rays of yellow light stretched out over the Keith stronghold, there was a rumble and then a crash.

Diarmuid was on his feet instantly. He hurried to the window, opening the shutter to peer out into the yard. Ailsa stood beside him. Below them, the yard was full of rubble. The Maiden's Tower was no more.

"That is a fitting end," Diarmuid said.

"I wonder what she chose?" Ailsa muttered.

Diarmuid closed his arms around her. "Freedom. That is what she chose."

He gathered her close. Ailsa soaked up the warmth of his body and the solid pounding of his heart while she looked out at the remains of the Maiden's Tower.

Brigitta was free now. So there was nothing left to look back on.

*

Brom was waiting in an empty storeroom. Another duty rested on his shoulders, but this one was not heavy. Seeing justice done was something he took satisfaction in.

The door opened and the cook came in first.

"This is the lot," the cook informed Brom.

Two maids and a couple of kitchen boys followed the cook.

"They were the ones who took the fare prepared in the kitchen under my eye for the wedding to the Maiden's Tower. I tasted everything before it left my sight as is my duty. I followed to make sure it all arrived as my laird bid me."

"And I saw the door barred," a retainer spoke from where he stood next to Brom. He pointed at three retainers. "These are the men who kept the watch."

Brom swept everyone in the storeroom. The culprit was among them.

Brom looked straight at the two boys. They were young, shuffling their feet and scratching their heads because they did not understand why they were there. They weren't too tender to feel the tension in the room though.

"I was careful, Captain," one of the lads began to babble. "Very careful with the platter. Didn't spill even one little strawberry."

"I didn't drop any of the silver, Captain," the other was quick to add. "Honest I didn't. The cook counted over me shoulder."

"Ye both did well." Brom pointed to the door. "Go on with ye now. The cook will give ye an extra slice of cheese for being honest lads."

The boys brightened instantly at the idea of a treat. They hurried to the door, their expressions bright.

Brom looked at the retainers. "The lass and Diarmuid confirmed that the door to the chamber remained barred. Ye are dismissed. Do nae speak of this matter."

The retainers tugged on the corner of their bonnets before they left.

Brom eyed the two maids. "One of ye…poisoned this cider. The laird has tasked me with bringing the culprit to him. I will do so, for we cannae have such a person living inside of the stronghold."

Brom picked up the pitcher. He poured the remaining cider into a goblet. One of the maids was starting to tremble. She was worrying the edge of her apron. Her horror was very real.

Ysenda though, looked at the floor.

"It is nae a difficult matter to prove, Ysenda," Brom said softly. "Ye and Fingal have been seen together."

"That does nae make me guilty," Ysenda argued.

"No?" Brom shook his head slowly. "Fingal has much to gain if Diarmuid dies. Ye are his lover."

The other maid looked at Ysenda with wide eyes. When it came to the maids in the kitchen, the cook was known to have strict rules for their morality.

The food in the storerooms was the most precious resource in the dead of winter. Those working in the stores could not be lacking in morality. Such would lead to bribes and poisoning.

And so it was proven. The cook was wise.

Ysenda shook her head, still denying her guilt.

"The midwife is waiting to inspect ye both," Brom declared. "As unwed lasses, ye should be maidens."

The second maid instantly looked relieved. Brom pointed at her and then at the door. She went with only a little wrinkle on her nose for what was ahead of her. Brom returned his gaze to Ysenda.

"Fingal has deserted ye, lass. Gone under the cover of darkness."

Ysenda gasped, betraying her guilt. Brom nodded to confirm the truth of his words. "He's left ye here to suffer the laird's vengeance."

At last, Ysenda turned pale. Brom eyed the girl for a long moment. He made a point of looking at the goblet. When he lifted his gaze, Ysenda was looking at him.

"Ye will stay here until the laird tells me what to do with ye," Brom informed her gruffly.

Brom headed toward the door. He turned and looked at Ysenda before he closed the door. "Diarmuid is the laird's only surviving child. Do nae waste yer time praying for heaven to intervene by having the laird be merciful toward ye."

Brom shut the door in Ysenda's horrified face.

"Ye are leaving her with the cider?" the cook asked. "Why? An example should be made of her."

Brom shook his head. "The example will be made. Once it is known that Fingal abandoned his lover without a thought, none of the other girls will be so easily duped. I know the laird, he will not have compassion for that girl. But I can offer her some mercy and spare myself and me men the task of carrying out the laird's orders."

"And if she does not drink the cider?" the cook asked.

Brom felt his expression harden. "Ye will get the example ye asked for."

Laird Keith was very pleased when Brom reported to him.

"Fingal…a weasel in a family of wolves." Errol snorted. "As for the maid, she must answer for what she did."

There was a cold note in the laird's tone. He pushed back from the desk. "I want to see her."

Brom followed his laird back to the storerooms. He slid the bar from where it had the door secure. Ysenda looked up at them but there was no horror on her face, just resignation.

A quick look at the table told Brom that she'd consumed the cider.

It was a much better way to go than what Laird Keith was detailing.

"Make sure ye lock the door, Brom," Laird Keith instructed. "Make sure this villainess is here when it's time for her to pay for her crimes."

Brom nodded. Errol left, his footsteps fading down the passageway. Ysenda looked at Brom.

"Ye were kind to me," she muttered breathlessly.

"I was kind to me men, who would have been ordered to make yer death a painful one.

She nodded slowly before wilting to the floor, her breathing labored. Brom retrieved the goblet and pitcher before he closed the door. The culprit was dealt with.

It was better to move on to happier days.

*

The trees were starting to change color. In the fields, the first of the harvest was starting to be brought in. But Ailsa wasn't tempted by any of the fare. She went running for the garderobe the moment she rose, prompting Diarmuid to send for an experienced matron.

"Yer carrying," Erin informed her.

"Oh…I believe you might be correct. I just felt something move." Ailsa covered her belly with her hand.

Erin tilted her head to one side. "It is very early for ye to be feeling the child quickening."

Ailsa was still absorbed with the sensation. She was caught between a feeling of wonderment and joy.

The matron sniffed. "I saw the sheet myself. Ye were pure when ye arrived." She looked toward Diarmuid. "This baby is in a hurry. It will come early."

Erin departed. Diarmuid came toward the bed, gently laying his hand on Ailsa's belly.

"I truly felt it," Ailsa whispered. "Like a butterfly inside me."

"I saw the surprise on yer face, lass. I know ye spoke true," Diarmuid said.

The little tap came again. "Oh, she is so strong."

"She?" Diarmuid asked.

Ailsa worried her lower lip for a moment. "I just know it is a girl."

She gathered her courage and looked at her husband's face to see if he was disappointed. But there was something in the window behind Diarmuid. He spun around to see what she was looking at.

An owl was perched there. Its large amber eyes looked at them. The creature stayed for a moment before it turned around and glided silently across the space between the stronghold and the forest.

Diarmuid softly chuckled. "It seems we shall both be keeping that promise to Brigitta." He turned back to Ailsa. "We shall all be the best of friends."

Inside her womb, a tiny little kick answered her husband's words. Ailsa stroked her belly. "Aye, we shall be the best of friends. I promise you will have all the happiness you were denied."

The sun was bright, the day perfect. Ailsa caught a hint of new growth on the breeze, heralding a fine harvest. In the distance, the stone masons were using their hammers and chisels.

It was going to be a very good life!

The End