Riding Amongst Wildflowers - Chapter 11
As the wheel of seasons turned, autumn unfurled its cloak over the landscape, its breath growing colder with each passing day. The castle, a stalwart entity of stone and history, began to fill with an icy fog that meandered through its endless corridors, nestling in the shadowy alcoves untouched by the warming glow of the braziers.
The once vibrant hues of summer began to recede, replaced by the rich palette of fall. The emerald canopy of trees surrounding the castle transformed into a kaleidoscope of fiery oranges, deep reds and burnished golds, a last burst of colour before winter's monochrome rule.
Within the castle, Alaina set about preparing for her upcoming journey. With Zora's dutiful assistance, she assembled the essentials for her travel. Zora fluttered around her like a worried sparrow, her words a steady stream of advice and caution, washing over Alaina's focus as she inventoried the items to bring. Despite the chill that seemed to seep into the castle's bones, the room was filled with the warmth of their camaraderie and shared purpose.
"Could they not send someone else?" Zora puffed. "You have only just recovered, my lady."
"There is no one else to send, Zora. They would not accept seeing a northerner asking for their aid". Alaina said flatly, trying to hide the irritation in her voice. She knew her loyal servant meant well, but Alaina did not need to be disparaged.
"This is not a job for a noblewoman", Zora continued as she stuffed Alaina's satchel with warm clothing and wool shawls.
"I am the future wife of a northern tribe leader. It is a job that has to be done." As she spoke, Alaina felt a surge of pride within her, making her voice ring out with an unaccustomed strength. For as long as she could remember, she had chafed at the societal constraints placed on her as a noblewoman. A life of enforced idleness and confinement, where her primary duty was to be wed and bear children to a noble husband, had always felt stifling.
Now, at the centre of a maelstrom of political intrigue and looming war, she felt a rush of exhilaration. The sense of importance tempered the anxiety that gnawed at her. She wished, not for the first time that she had been taught to wield a sword like the shield-maidens of the north.
In the annals of northern lore, women stood shoulder to shoulder with men, matching them in courage and skill. Known as shield-maidens, these formidable women were not just companions and helpmeets to their husbands and fathers but also their partners on the battlefield. The thought thrilled Alaina, her heart swelling with a yearning for autonomy and bravery.
However, the surge of hope was swiftly quelled by the stark reality of her timidity. An echo of regret reverberated within her, reminding her of her shortcomings. Zora, perceptive as always, ceased her futile attempts to dissuade Alaina. She recognised the resolute dedication in her lady's eyes and resigned herself to her duty.
Zora braided Alaina's hair with willing tenderness, her fingers deftly weaving the strands into a neat plait. The silence in the room was heavy but not hostile, filled with the unspoken understanding that Alaina was stepping into a path fraught with uncertainty.
Alaina enveloped herself in a thick, woollen shawl, seeking refuge from the biting autumn air as she made her way to the stables. Though modest compared to the grandeur of some other noble estates, the stable at Dunkeld was impressively spacious, with the capacity to comfortably shelter nearly five hundred steeds.
A verdant expanse of grazing land sprawled before the stable, dotted with horses that contentedly munched on the lush, emerald grass. The rhythmic flick of their long tails punctuated the serene landscape, a sight that brought Alaina a small smile.
Upon entering the stable, she was greeted by an unmistakable blend of scents - the earthy musk of manure, the sweet, dry tang of hay, and the rich, leathery aroma unique to horses. It was a smell that, while pungent to the unaccustomed, had a certain comforting familiarity with Alaina.
She meandered down the long aisles, her eyes roving over the numerous stalls housing a variety of equine occupants. Some were leisurely enjoying their feed, while others relished a well-earned rest. Amidst these, she spotted several distinctively larger and sturdier steeds, their thick, shaggy coats seemingly designed to withstand the brutal winters of the north. Their presence served as a stark reminder of the impending arrival of Gareth's tribespeople.
Pausing in her stride, she was drawn to a few stalls by the gentle whining of horses vying for her attention. The warmth of their sleek, muscular bodies was a welcome contrast against the chill of her fingers, their soft nuzzles and snorts effectively distracting her from the anxiety gnawing at the edges of her mind. Their simple, wordless comfort was a soothing balm, gently lulling her turbulent nerves into a semblance of calm.
"May I help you?" A deep, gravelly voice echoed behind her, jolting her from her reverie. Swivelling around, Alaina found herself face-to-face with a man who seemed to carry the weight of many years on his broad shoulders.
The man was of a similar age to her father, possibly older, judging by the silver threads speckling his otherwise dark hair. His face was a landscape of time, weather-beaten and creased with deep lines that spoke of a lifetime of hard work and experience. His eyes, sharp and discerning beneath bushy brows, held a glimmer of wisdom that only comes with age. He was a robust figure, his muscular frame straining under the burden of a hefty bale of hay that he carried on his back with a resilience borne of habit.
At the realisation of whom he was addressing, the colour drained from his weathered face, leaving his complexion as pale as freshly churned butter. His posture stiffened, and he hastily lowered himself into a respectful bow, the hay bale momentarily forgotten. The transformation was striking - a formidable stablehand now showing the deference befitting his Duchess.
"Apologies, my lady. I did not know it was you".
Alaina smiled at him courteously; she could not fault him as it was not traditional for a noblewoman to venture into the stables.
"It is all right. I have just come for my horse", she smiled. "Are you the stablekeeper?"
"Indeed, my lady, I am Rangor," he responded with a rough melody that reverberated through the lofty wooden beams of the stable. He set the hay bale down on the cobblestone floor, raising a cloud of dust that danced in the slivers of sunlight filtering in from the windows and cracks in the wooden walls.
"Please, give me a moment. I'll fetch your horse," he said, retreating into the dim recesses of the stable. As Alaina was left waiting, she grappled with a strange familiarity that clung to the man's name.
Rangor. The name resonated within her, echoing off the corners of her memory. It was as if the name had been stitched into the webbing of her past, yet the details of its significance were frayed and faded. She didn't recognise his face, but the very sound of his name tugged at the edges of her subconscious, sending ripples across the surface of her forgotten memories.
She closed her eyes, leaning against the rough wooden beams of the stable, and let her mind drift. She dove into the swirling vortex of her childhood memories, her consciousness reaching out towards the elusive tendrils of recognition. Rangor...why does that name resonate with me? How do I know you? She mused, her thoughts a whisper in the cacophony of unanswered questions.
"Here she is, my lady," he said as he held the reins for Alaina, jolting her to the present.
"I am sorry, Rangor, but did I know you from my childhood?" she asked as she took the reins from him. "Unfortunately, I lost all my memories before the accident. My father told me I spent much of my time in the stables as a child. Perhaps you might have seen me here?" Alaina elaborated. Rangor's eyes softened, and a broad smile grew on his aged face.
"Yes, you did use to spend your days here in this very stable." She noticed his eyes glaze over as if trying to recollect his memories. "My son, who worked with me in the stables, was very fond of you. You were practically inseparable!".
His son? She remembered Gareth telling her that the stable keeper had adopted him. Surely, it could not be?
"Gareth?" Alaina exclaimed. She noticed Rangor's eyes filling with tears; he reached out for her hands and gripped them tight.
"You remember him?" Rangor exclaimed excitedly; the smile on his face was infectious. But Alaina stared at him, confused as she frowned. Seeing her frown, the colour on his face paled, and he released her hands quickly as though she had burnt him.
"Remember him? I do not understand," she tilted her head to the side and stared at him quizzically.
"I-I'm sorry, my lady. I have overstepped," he stammered as he quickly picked up the hay bale and attempted to flee.
"No, Rangor, wait!" she called out as she ran after him. She caught his arm, making him stop in his tracks.
"No, please, my lady. Pay me no mind. I am old and – "
"What do you mean, remember him? I knew Gareth when I was a child?" She interrupted his excuses as she gripped her fingers tighter around his arm. Rangor dropped the hay bale and ran his fingers through his grey hair. Panic struck his face for fear that he said too much.
"Gareth is my son…" Upon saying this, he collapsed on the floor with a loud thud. The horses in the nearby stalls huffed and whined with shock. Alaina crouched next to him and held his hand gently.
"I do not know why you are so afraid. I would just like to know the truth," she said softly, squeezing his hand. "Do you know how hard it is for me to have a large piece of my past just disappear?"
Rangor looked into her eyes as tears started to fall from his. "When you said Gareth, did you mean the leader of the northern tribe that invaded Dunkeld?".
Rangor responded with a solemn nod, his eyes filled with sorrow and nostalgia. As Alaina sunk beside him onto the cool, cobblestone floor, a whirlwind of disbelief and questions churned within her. Why had Gareth concealed this crucial piece of their shared history? Why had he chosen to shroud her in ignorance about her past?
"Rangor, I need you to tell me everything...," she implored, her voice strained with the weight of her turmoil.
Gareth, he began, was but a wailing infant when he was found abandoned at the formidable gates of Dunkeld Castle. A servant had discovered him, his tiny frame shaking with sobs, his clothes stained with filth, and his body infested with fleas. Baffled and unsure of the appropriate course of action, the servant sought guidance from Duke Rainald. The Duke, in turn, summoned Rangor and entrusted the foundling to him. Rangor took Gareth under his wing, raising him as his own.
The first time Rangor recalled seeing Alaina, she was a mere five years of age, her eyes sparkling with the delight of her father's birthday gift - a pony. Lost in the novelty and not knowing how to care for her new friend, Alaina sought Rangor's guidance. It was then she first encountered Gareth. A year her senior, Gareth shared his knowledge and taught her how to care for her pony. From that day forth, an unbreakable bond was forged between them. Alaina, drawn to the bustling life of the stables, would frequently visit after her lessons to assist Gareth with his tasks. She guided him in reading and writing, sharing her passion for books and their tales of history and agriculture with him.
As the years unfolded, Rangor noticed a transformation in Gareth's affection for Alaina; friendship blossomed into love. Aware of Alaina's predestined union with the Prince, Rangor attempted to dissuade Gareth from nurturing these feelings, knowing the inevitable heartache it would cause.
Rangor would remind Gareth of the harsh reality, the yawning chasm that separated them. Alaina, a duchess born of nobility, and Gareth, a boy of humble origins with neither title nor wealth. Yet Gareth, embodying the stubbornness of a bull, refused to abandon his dreams. Inspired by hope, he joined the squires, aspiring to be knighted and guard the woman he loved for the rest of his days.
When Alaina was finally old enough to ride, Duke Rainald presented her with Mercy, a majestic, pure-white mare bred from a lineage of war horses that had faithfully served the Dunkeld army. Alaina and Gareth would spend their days riding through the lush fields, indulging in friendly races.
Then came the day of Alaina's catastrophic accident. "Gareth... he was a man possessed," Rangor recounted, his voice shaking with the raw memory. "He was inconsolable, screaming into the hollow silence of his nightmares."
As Alaina listened, she felt a lump forming in her throat. To think that Gareth was there, a silent witness to her tragedy, was a realisation that shook her to her core.
"The Duke…he, he blamed Gareth for everything… my poor boy was made to believe that he was the cause of your accident." Rangor tried to stifle his sobs as he spoke. "He was only eleven years old and felt like his whole life was crashing down around him."
"But it was not his fault", Alaina whispered, gripping Rangor's shaking hand.
"The Duke did not think that way. After you were sent to Hann Aisle for your treatment, the Duke, too, lost his mind" he turned to look at Alaina, his face darkened as it filled with anger. "Filled with rage and the need for revenge, he decided to sentence Gareth to death for causing the accident." Alaina gasped as she held her hands up to her mouth.
"How did Gareth escape?" Alaina, too, felt resentment burn within her towards her father. How could he blame an innocent child?
"I begged the duke for days. I begged him to reconsider and withdraw the death sentence… but he never relented". Rangor's sobbing increased in intensity, his body shaking.
"I managed to convince the Duke to let me kill Gareth instead. I wanted it to be a quick and painless death. I loved that boy like he was my own! Which father would kill his own son?"
Alaina rubbed his back to console his grieving.
"But when the time came, I could not do it. He stared at me, begging me to stop. He pleaded with me on his knees not to hurt him. I could not bring myself to do it. So I chased him away. I told him that if he returned, I would slit his throat. I made him believe that I hated him. I made him fear me so he would run away and start a new life somewhere safe." His sobs were growing uncontrollably.
"Rangor, it is okay. You do not have to continue if it hurts you this much." Alaina said softly as she took a handkerchief from her satchel and handed it to him.
"No, my lady, let me finish." He said. Alaina nodded, allowing him to continue. He took her handkerchief and blew his nose.
"At the time, I did not know where he ran to. It broke my heart to cast him away. But the Duke…" Rangor's eyes filled with anger.
"The Duke wanted proof of his death, so I kidnapped a stranger's son who was around the same age as Gareth, and I killed him". Rangor stared helplessly at the floor as Alaina saw the waves of guilt wash over him. "I tied the boy's body in a sack and handed it to the Duke".
"I am sorry, Rangor, for my father's insolence."
Alaina genuinely felt terrible for him. She could not believe her father would do such a thing. Rangor rubbed his eyes with his dirty hand. "I suppose you know by now that he joined a northern tribe."
With a solemn nod, Alaina acknowledged Rangor's words, her voice swallowed by the weight of the revelations. "In a perverse twist of fate, his circumstances have improved. He has risen above his station as a humble stable boy," Rangor mused, his gnarled hands engulfing Alaina's in a warm, comforting grasp. "And, most importantly, he has won your heart."
A tender smile graced his weathered features, crinkling the corners of his eyes into a warm network of laugh lines. He extended his hand to gently cradle her face, his touch as soft as a feather's caress. "He came to me, his heart brimming with joy, to share the news. That you had agreed to marry him. I owe you an eternal debt of gratitude, my lady. You led my son back home, and now, at long last, he can taste true happiness."
As Rangor's heartfelt words unfurled, tears welled within Alaina's eyes, threatening to spill over. Every decision Gareth had made, every step he had taken, was intricately woven around her, all for the singular purpose of winning her heart and finding his way back to her. And he had indeed won it, even though she hadn't fully understood the extent of his sacrifices at the time. Remembering the words she had hurled at him before his departure, a pang of regret clenched her heart. She had inadvertently shattered him, and she understood now that he would never waver in his decision to marry her, no matter the price. Gareth had dedicated a decade to reaching this point; he wouldn't easily surrender. With this realisation, tears traced a path down Alaina's cheeks, splashing onto their intertwined hands.
"Thank you, Rangor. I can't express how much I appreciate you sharing this with me. It mustn't have been easy," she said, her voice laden with genuine gratitude. "If only he had found the courage to share this himself…" she murmured, her voice trailing off in a sigh.
"He carries the fear of disappointing you, my lady. He doesn't want to tarnish the image you hold of him," Rangor explained, his voice gentle yet firm. "I couldn't be prouder of the man he has become, and you should share in that pride." Pride did indeed swell within Alaina's chest; it had been present even before these revelations came to light. She yearned to rush into Gareth's arms, to pepper his face with tender kisses and assure him that he would never lose her. But a pressing duty held her back, a responsibility that would ultimately secure their shared future.
"I must depart now. I need to convince my knights to fight for Gareth's cause," Alaina said as she stood. She reached out her hand and helped Rangor to his feet. His warm smile showed her that he understood the difficult task she had undertaken.
"Your men will fight for you, Alaina. Your duchy has been waiting for your return. Give them something to fight for".
"Your words encourage me, Rangor. Thank you," she smiled.
"You have grown to be a beautiful and intelligent woman. I would be proud to have the honour of being your father if you'll have me," he said as he embraced her. She hugged him tightly and turned to mount her horse. Kicking the stirrups, Joy darted forward, and Alaina rode off to complete her mission.