Three long years of being summarily dismissed, ignored, and put away like worn out furniture or the toys and clothes long outgrown by their owner’s and no longer needed.
What she wanted more than anything this day was to be seen and heard. To feel needed and wanted. To once again become a member of the family who had all but forgotten her.
What she did not know was that below stairs, in the gray-stone castle, utter turmoil was unfolding.
King David the second, was on his way.
“What in the bloody hell is he thinkin’?” Garrin MacRay’s deep voice echoed off the walls. He paced back and forth, angrily. Surrounding him in the gathering room was his weeping wife, Elspeth, and his four sons; Darrin, Lowrens, William, and Tiberius. His sons, good, strong young men who wanted nothing more than their father’s approval, shouted and railed against David. ’Twas their way of showing Garrin that he had their undying support and devotion. Even if they were not quite certain why their father was so bloody furious.
Each of them — handsome, tall and lean lads — were younger versions of Garrin. They possessed the same dark hair and dark eyes as he. And often times, the same sour disposition.
His eldest son, Darrin, a strapping lad of seven and twenty, was pacing in tandem with his father. “Mayhap we should wait and hear from David’s own mouth,” he said. “And not rest our worries on a messenger.”
It seemed to his brothers a most logical suggestion. Until their father began yelling again. “Of course the messenger be right, ye fool!” His face was turning purple with rage. “Why else do ye think David would be on his way here?”
Darrin, duly chastised and fully embarrassed, took a seat next to his brother Lowrens.
Elspeth, who had been quiet up to this point, dabbed at her eyes with a bit of linen, and spoke. “I cannae believe he would do this to our sweet Aeschene.” Her voice, soft as a gentle spring breeze, did nothing to help assuage her husband’s anger. It rarely did.
“’Tis the truth I would be glad to rid myself of her,” Garrin seethed. “But to the MacCullough? Our sworn enemy?”
“She is just a child,” Elspeth whispered, dabbing at her eyes again.
“A child?” Garrin asked with disbelief. “She be twenty-years now, Elspeth. She should have been married off long ago. But none will have her.” Why would they?
Garrin could never understand the love a mother had for a child. And he especially could not understand Elspeth’s love for their only daughter, Aeschene. Their daughter should have been a blessing. Instead, she was flawed. Imperfect. Therefore, unworthy of his time or attention.
“If David believes marryin’ me daughter off to the MacCullough will stop our feudin’, he will be sadly mistaken!” Garrin declared to one and all.
“Aye!” shouted William, his third youngest son. “I would just as soon gut a MacCullough as to look at one.” His declaration fell on deaf ears as his father continued his angry pacing.
“Wait until he gets here,” Garrin fumed. “He will see then, with his own bloody eyes, that Aeschene is useless to anyone, especially as a wife. And the MacCullough will not want her. No one does.”
Tiberius, the youngest of the MacRay’s sons, remained quiet as he watched and listened intently. Out of all the men in the room, Tiberius was the only one who had ever shown Aeschene or Marisse an ounce of respect. But that respect was limited and only shown whenever Garrin and the others weren’t around. He kept his opinions and thoughts to himself as they pertained to his sister.
No one bothered to come to Aeschene’s defense.
Not only had half the keep heard Garrin’s declaration, so had Marisse as she stood hidden in the shadows in the hallway. She thought them all fools. As much as she wanted to burst into the gathering room and tell them just what she thought of each of them, for locking their poor daughter away and every other injustice thrown at her, she knew ’twould do no good. Chances were, they’d send her away and Aeschene needed her, now, more than ever.
Fearful, she left the quiet shadows and raced above stairs to tell her friend all she had learned. She would, of course, leave out Garrin’s insults. There was no sense in upsetting her even more.
Aeschene found it rather difficult to believe what Marisse had just told her. “Certainly ye jest,” she said in a low, stunned whisper.
Marisse pulled her to sit in the chair by the brazier and took Aeschene’s hands in hers. There was no mistaking the worry and sadness in the Marisse’s voice. “I heard it with me own ears,” she told her dear friend. “Yer father was right angry, and yer mum could not quit cryin’.”
Aeschene sat in stunned incredulity, her mind unable to make sense of what she was hearing. Had she somehow managed to displease her king so much that he was ready to hand her off to her father’s greatest enemy? Or was it something her father had done? If David thought to punish Garrin by forcing this marriage, he would be sadly mistaken. Garrin did not give one wit about his only daughter. Nay, if anything, he would be glad to be rid of her.
“What am I to do?” Aeschene asked aloud, not expecting any clear or decisive answers.
“We could run away,” Marisse suggested with an exceptionally hopeful tone.
While the thought of finally being free from this place — a place where she had once felt safe and protected — was enticing, she knew she could not take such action. No matter how much her father was ashamed of her she could not be so disrespectful. Nay, she could not behave so cowardly.
“Nay,” she said, swallowing back her dread and trepidation. “How far would we get? I am relatively blind and have not a coin to me name. We would not get far. And what would David do to me family then?”
She heard Marisse’s sigh of frustration. “And what has yer family done for ye?” she asked indignantly. “’Tis naught as if they have treated ye with much kindness these past few years.”
“I am in no mood to discuss that right now,” Aeschene told her. They’d had that conversation too many times over the years. Each time it ended with Aeschene in tears and Marisse filled with anger.
Marisse shook her head in disbelief. “But the MacCullough?”
The MacCullough. Aeschene had heard the awful stories her father and brothers told of how Black Richard MacCullough had come to be so scarred. Of how everyone referred to him as a demon, or the devil incarnate. Black Richard was a terrifying, monster of a man. Chances were, he would kill her and leave her for the scavengers before they were even off MacRay lands.
Why, oh, why would David give her to such a man as that? What had her father done to anger him so? Or, mayhap, David was furious with the MacCullough and this was his way of punishing him: To saddle him with a wife who could not see.
No matter who he was angry with or the reasons behind his edict, Aeschene was doomed.
David the second, King of Scotland, sat at Garrin MacRay’s table. David had been served refreshments, as had his scribe and advisors. Nine armed guards stood either behind him or at different points in the room. Fifty more guards were placed strategically around the courtyard, another hundred at different points outside the walls. The show of force was meant to prove his strength and importance.