Page 50 of Highlanders for the Holidays
His feet felt fat tonight, his toes swollen in his boots. His eyes burned. His gut churned, and it felt much the same as though some fat boar were seated upon his chest.
Outside, the wind bellowed harder, the sound all the more unnerving for the uncanny silence now ringing through his halls—a silence that grew, piercing his eardrums, and making him wince with pain.
By the rood, he did not feel well tonight.
It must have been that greasy pheasant! Rubbing his ears with the palms of his hands, he massaged them to ease the ache. But then, after removing his hands from his ears, he heard a woman’s song in a faraway voice…
Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.
Hugh rubbed his ears again, peering around in confusion. By the bones of the saints, what devilry was this?
Ihave beenready at your hand,
To grant whatever thou wouldst crave;
I have both wagered life and land,
Your love and good will for to have.
It was an auld song, one his wife used to sing quite a lot—in fact, right there, in that very solar. The chorus was such an annoying earworm. It went like this:Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but my lady Greensleeves.Hugh thoroughly despised the song.
Of course, at the time he’d loathed Eleanore all the more. And Page, she’d never had a prayer of a chance, for she’d looked precisely like her mother.
Listening closely, FitzSimon tried to determine where the voice was coming from.Surely not the solar, from whence he’d only just come?He spun about, a human compass veering north.
From inside the solar came a strange glow, and the sound of the woman’s voice grew clearer yet…
'Tis I will prayto God on high,
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
The solar itselfseemed to glow with a strange blue incandescent light, and the light seemed to be expanding as the song and voice grew in clarity.
Like a moth drawn to the light of a flame, Hugh took a wary step toward the solar door. It occurred to him in that instant that he might well meet a moth’s fate, but he could not stop himself. One foot went after the other.
“Eleanore?” he called out.
No answer came from the singing woman, but her song continued as Hugh inched his way toward the solar, his footfalls echoing like claps of thunder along the empty hall. Only once he realized the clatter he was making, he took greater care to soften his step, lest he startle the woman and she flee. He tiptoed the last few feet.
He spied the singing woman the instant he poked his head into the room—seated before the hearth, right there, where Eleanore used to sit and rock their babe.
Stunned by the sight of his long-lost wife, Hugh’s hand clutched at his heart.
Nay, but there was no babe in her arms at the moment, but she sat rocking in that chair, arms crooked into empty space, as though she were clutching a tiny baby to her breast. “Eleanore?” he said, aghast.
She appeared exactly as he recalled, with dark wispy hair that defied thick raven plaits. She peered up at him, and for an instant, the sweet look in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.
Then suddenly she dropped her arms to her sides and stood, and by the time she did so, her look of love was fled, replaced with one of the most fearsome visages Hugh had ever beheld.
