A medieval romance by
S.L. McKay
Excerpts from completed manuscript, June 2004
CHAPTER ONE
Northumbia, England - Spring, 1068
Tostig's daughter! Tostig's daughter! Tostig's daughter! Came the repeated chant from a faceless crowd gathered outside a large fortress. Shrouded in mist and shadow, they were holding torches that illuminated a peculiar wall. The odd structure was made of countless poplar trees growing so smugly together that their branches crisscrossed into a sturdy mesh. Ancient oak trees formed towers at the corners. Inside the wall loomed an earthen castle made of willow and juniper trees entwined around rocks and dirt. Cool mist, reflecting golden light from the torches, caressed the base of the castle and gently swirled and disappeared half way to the top. Owls were perched upon the highest branches like sentries on ramparts, peering omnipotent into the mist.
The knight found himself in front of the castle, unable to find an entrance. He tried to climb the steep walls forged of rough tree trunk and rock. No sooner would he lift himself a few feet then he would lose his grasp and tumble back to the ground. After countless attempts, he succumbed to the cold earth, struggling for breath and staring up at the silvery full moon that hung low in the sky just above the glowing orbs of the watchful owls.
It was no ordinary moon. As the chants from the faceless crowd continued and rose higher and higher, Tostig's daughter, Tostig's daughter, Tostig's daughter, the silvery globe began to transform. Fingers of silver light and gray shadow touched, blended, and separated to form a face. It was a woman's face, with bright, round eyes and a half moon smile. Suddenly the moon shook her head and let loose long silvery-gold tresses. The silken skeins flowed down, past the earthen castle, and gently glided over and around the knight. Glossy hair slipped beneath his torso and curled around and around, scooping him higher and higher. He was above the castle, curling closer and closer to the beautiful face. So close, he struggled to free his arms from the cocoon of hair so that he could touch the mysterious moon woman. At last, he pulled his upper torso free of the twining locks and reached both arms toward the enchantress. In the next instant, he was careening. Unable to balance himself upon the fine strands, he fell forward and spun headfirst toward earth.
CHAPTER TWO
The barest sliver of a silvery moon lay high against an infinity of navy blue velvet adorned with glittering crystals. Ariane of Monanham sat cross-legged just outside the mouth of a cave before a robust campfire. The flames blazed orange and crackled red, warding off the chill and keeping her company. She had been gazing into the fire for several minutes, becoming one with the heat and pulsating movement of the flames that began as a single sultry blue caress sliding up from beneath the bottom logs. Gliding upward, the blue caress transformed into orange hands, cupping and sliding between the wood, sprouting yellow fingers that spread and reached into the darkness.
Breathing deeply, she gathered into her being the pungent scent of burning pine and oak mixed with the crisp night air. Closing her eyes, she imagined her body held the same air as the man she had sensed heading her way. An exotic, complex scent swirled within her being: sea breeze, red wine, leather, lime, and jasmine. The dark side of the moon appeared in her mind’s eye. He was there. She felt him struggling to emerge. She held her breath, willing him to show himself. Her brow furrowed slightly. Strange, his efforts to appear ceased upon her command. The complex scent faded. She was out of breath. Gasping, she opened her eyes. The flaming campfire had vanished. Smoldering remnants glowed softly in the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ariane peered nervously at Nicholas. He could awaken at any moment. She was surprised, in fact, that he hadn’t --perhaps she had poured more sleeping powder into his cup than she thought. No matter, she had to get him away from the cottage. Chewing the inside of her lip, another idea came to her.
Nicholas watched her go into the small shed. He braced himself to take off after her upon hearing the sound of a horse inside. Seconds later she emerged carrying poles wrapped in a blanket and he returned to playing possum.
“Arrgh! Are all beastly Normans heavy as Monday’s washtub?”
Bent over and walking backwards, Ariane dragged Nicholas to the bottom edge of the unfolded stretcher, then reached under his arms and lifted him so his rear was on the blanket. Keeping one foot on either side of him and standing on the blanket, she scooted him back while trying to keep the blanket flat and in place. As she leaned back, his full weight followed, leaning on her inner thighs and stomach. She dug in her heels to keep her balance. They had gone as far as they could in her current stance. She needed to straighten up and move herself back in order to slide and center his bottom upon the stretcher before laying him down.
Lifting her right heel slightly, she twisted and slid her right side back. She nearly repeated the process to the left until her left heel touched down upon a wood splinter. Her leg jerked from the sharp prick, tipping her off balance and causing her right heel to lose traction. She tumbled backward, landed with a thud, and was pinned by her unconscious captive.
Nicholas bit his cheek to keep from laughing. His upper torso covered her legs, with his head resting in the soft juncture between her thighs. He fought the urge to lean back and peer upside down at her expression, which surely must be one of mortification.
“Zounds! Could any man be more trouble?” she muttered through clenched teeth as she scooted back and out from under him, not caring that his head plunked to the ground. “That’s it! No more dilly dallying!”
Now standing with her legs on either side of his hips, she leaned down, grabbed his left wrist, bent his left arm up and back, and laid it shoulder-level onto the pole. She ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of her chemise and began to tie his left wrist down. His right hand shot out and clamped over hers.
Round eyes pale as a blue moon met eyes dark as night and quite awake. Gasping, she tried to pull away, but he was quick and pulled her back. She clawed at his face with her free hand. Again, he was too quick and subdued her with his other hand. Losing her balance, she ended up sitting upon his stomach.
“Let me go! Get your hands off me!” She struggled to get to her feet, but he was too strong.
“Tsk, tsk. Is that anyway to treat your prisoner?”
Continued
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