When Fate Dictates (12 page)

Hours passed and I lay unmoved on the bed,
hugging a pillow to my chest. Eventually, when my head ached so
much from crying that I thought I would die from the pain, I closed
my eyes and slept.

The moon was high in the sky when I finally
awoke. My eyes scanned the darkness of the room, looking for Simon.
They found him, slumped on a chair beside the fire. I got up to
cover him with a quilt from the bed. His eyes sprang wildly open
like a mad man’s as I moved toward him, his hand darting for the
dirk. I froze in horror as he stared at me with the eyes of a
stranger, the dirk in his hand, the point toward me.

“If I put this through your heart will you
live?” he demanded, his voice slow and slurred.

I stared back at him, shaking my head.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“I can’t hear you. Answer me, Corran? Will
you die?”

“Simon, please, you are frightening me.”

“Then answer me, Corran. Tell me. If I stab
you with this dirk, will you die?” he said, pushing himself up out
of the chair.

I took a step backwards and he moved toward
me. “Why do you want to run from me?” he asked, his teeth clenched
in anger. I took another step backwards and felt the wall hard
against my back. I could do nothing but watch as Simon moved to
tower over me. He lifted his hand and positioned the tip of the
blade below my breast bone. I stared at him, frozen with terror.
“Answer me, Corran,” he said, his eyes wild and threatening, “or by
God I will push this knife through your heart and we shall find
out.”

“Simon, I love you,” I stammered in stunned
helplessness. “Without you I don’t care if I live or die.”

I slid my hand between us and sought the
point of the dirk. Slowly, I moved up the metal to cover his hand
on the wood of the handle with my hand.

“If I must go on without you then give me the
dirk and I will do the job myself.”

I felt his hand tense beneath mine, the
muscle on the side of his jaw twitched and his eyes finally sought
mine again. I met them and held their look.

“As God is my witness I have no idea why I
didn’t die today, or on the mountain or on the moor but if you want
me dead, give me the dirk and I will save you the trouble.”

I released his hand and he stepped back from
me, dropping the knife to his side. He sank to the floor and wept
like a baby. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, not knowing
whether to go to him or leave him be. Eventually, I moved
cautiously toward him and knelt beside him, resting my hand lightly
on his shoulder.

“I am sorry Simon, please forgive me?” I
whispered.

He lifted his head slowly to meet my eyes.
His face was pale and shallow and dark lines circled his bloodshot
eyes. “It is not you that should be sorry. It is me that should be
asking your forgiveness.” He stared at me, the wild terror gone
from his eyes, replaced by a deep shadow of despair. “Can you ever
forgive me?” he asked his voice thin and weak. I leant my head
against him, gently stroking the long black curls of his hair.

“Simon, there is nothing to forgive.”

“Corran I love you more than life itself.” He
straightened and drew me between his legs. I could feel the rhythm
of his breath against my back as he wound his arms around my
shoulders, folding them across my breasts. “Whatever happened to
you today we will face together.”

I raised my hand subconsciously to the
knotted scar on the side of my neck.

“I meant it, Simon; I really don’t know what
I am.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of my head
lightly. “I am sorry for the gambling too. If I had not done it,
all this would not have happened today,” he sighed deeply and I
felt his lungs expand against me. “You see I have only ever had
myself to look out for and I am sorry for putting you in such
danger.” I turned my head to face him.

“Just what did happen to those men that
attacked us?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I actually had no
idea what had happened to end it all.

“Well, let’s just say they were not as
fortunate as you when it came to a slash from a knife,” he
said.

There was a brief silence and then I had to
ask. “Simon, are they dead?”

“Do you really want to know Corran?”

I nodded. “Aye, I do. I need to know Simon.
Are we safe now?”

“Aye, they are dead and for now we are safe,”
he paused, lifting one hand to play absently with my hair. “But we
must leave at dawn.”

“Why Simon, what is wrong?” He did not answer
me immediately but continued to fiddle with random strands of my
hair. “Please Simon, I must know. What’s wrong?”

“We must leave Corran because it won’t be
long before someone comes looking for me. Either for the murder of
the men that attacked us or for the gold and money we have.”

I nodded, bending my head to kiss the arm
that was still draped over my shoulder.

“It will be alright Simon,” I said, giving
his arm a squeeze.

“In fact, why don’t we pack up and leave now?
We could be well clear of the city by dawn.”

His body shook with laughter. I shot round to
see what was so funny.

“What?” I snapped impatiently. “What do you
find so funny?” I repeated, through his laughter.

“We can’t leave now Corran because I am too
drunk to sit on a horse.”

******

I swallowed dryly, attempting to clear the
dust of travel from my throat, shading my eyes with my hand against
the blinding morning sun; I squinted to clear my view. It returned
to focus on an enormous building rising up from within high city
walls. Towering, silhouetted against the early morning sun,
tarnished and blackened by age, foreboding and intimidating, it
shadowed the city with its sheer size and magnificence.

“Simon, what is that?” I asked, pointing
toward the imposing building.

“At a guess, I would say that’s York
Minster.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, staring in
amazement at its grandeur. “I don’t think I have ever seen anything
like it.”

“I don’t suppose you have.”

An expectant buzz of activity and excitement
formed around us as we approached York’s city walls. People,
animals, carts and cabs bustled, pushed and herded their way toward
the arched entrance.

“Don’t look up,” Simon warned as we got
closer to the arch.

“Why Simon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong Corran I just don’t want you
to see what’s up there.”

“What’s up where?” I asked, raising my head,
just as I had been told not do. “Oh dear God!” I exclaimed as my
eyes came to rest on the severed head of a man; speared on a pole,
protruding from the roof of the gate to the city. Crows and magpies
circled the pole, scavenging off what decaying flesh had not
already been pecked at. I felt Simon’s arm tighten around my waist
as I swayed slightly in the saddle.

“Are you alright lass?” he asked gently.

I nodded, breathing deeply.

“I told you not to look. Why do you always
have to do the exact opposite of what I tell you?” he said,
planting a light affectionate kiss on the top of my head.

“What is it doing there?” I asked, still
shaken.

“I guess someone wasn’t too happy with him,”
he replied flippantly.

“No Simon, seriously, I want to know. Why was
that man’s head up there?”

“Honestly Corran, I don’t know exactly why
his head is up there, but if I were to guess though, I’d say he was
probably a traitor to the King,” he paused thoughtfully, “Off with
his head and set it on York gates, so York may overlook the town of
York,” he boomed, theatrically.

“What?” I asked, wondering if he had taken
leave of his senses.

“It’s the line of a play. Richard Duke of
York once had the misfortune to grace Mickelgate Bar.”

“What’s Micklegate Bar then?” I asked.

Simon’s body shook with laughter behind me.
“Micklegate Bar is the most important gateway into York but the one
we are going through now is the grandest, so don’t be thinking that
I have brought you in by the pauper’s gate.”

Eventually we emerged from the arch of
Monkgate Bar into a tight, narrow muddy lane, canopied by the
overhanging eaves of plastered and limewashed, multistorey
buildings, many of which had tiled roofs, chimneys and glass
windows. Men, women and children traded from stalls randomly
arranged on the side of the narrow road, making progress through
the city slow and tedious. The narrow, dark street was overcrowded,
noisy, foul smelling and heavily populated.

“I think we might have an easier time of it
without the horse,” I said, turning in the saddle to face Simon. He
nodded his agreement, a frown furrowing his brow.

“Only thing is, I have no idea what to do
with the creature.” He pulled gently on the reins, bringing the
horse to a halt. I felt him rise behind me as he swung himself off
its back. “Come,” he said, holding his arms out for me. I swung my
leg over the side of the horse and jumped into his arms. Leading
the horse by the reins we picked our way through the streets of the
city where the buildings, people and animals crowded in around us.
It was a stark contrast to the open wilderness with which we were
both familiar and I suddenly felt stifled and panicked. The air was
heavy and wet. The smell of rancid waste filled my nostrils and hit
the back of my throat. Cupping my mouth and nose with the palm of
my hand, I lowered my eyes to the ground, anxious to avoid stepping
in the sludge of filth that carpeted the street. Simon’s hand
tightened around mine as an old man stumbled and fell heavily in
front of us. I stepped forwards to help him, but Simon pulled me
back.

“Leave him be.”

“We can’t just leave him there Simon.”

“Corran, you will do as I say.” He tightened
his hold on my hand and guided me and the horse around the crumpled
form.

Our progress remained painfully slow as we
trudged deeper into the city.

“Do you know where we are going Simon?” I
asked eventually, having spent several minutes wondering silently
if Simon had any more idea than I where we were.

“The place has an address of Langton Lane,
but more than that I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we ask someone?”

He nodded, smiling broadly. “Oddly enough I
had not considered asking for help.”

“You see asking for help as a weakness?” I
asked.

“I suppose I do. But you are right, we will
have to ask where it is, or I think I shall go mad pushing my way
through this crowded mess with a horse in tow. Will you wait here
with the horse?” He handed me the reins and pointed to a posting
house to the right of the street.

“I’ll ask in there,” he said, striding off
toward a large, open, black door.

I turned and guided the horse off the main
path of the street and onto the cobbled courtyard of the posting
house. A triangle of daylight shone through a gap in the jumble of
roofs overhead and I gaped in awe at the magnificence of the
Minster that spiraled and towered through the tangled mess. I felt
Percy tug on his reins as he shook his head restlessly.

“I know you are tired wee one, and I bet you
could do with a drink,” I said, noticing an open black gate in the
courtyard that appeared to lead to some stables around the back of
the posting house. Patting the horse affectionately on his head, I
gave a gentle tug at the reins and lead him through the large black
gates. A stable lad was busying himself with the grooming of a fine
black stallion as we emerged into the stable yard. I smiled at him
as he glanced across at us.

“Any chance of a drink for my horse?” I
asked, noticing a trough of water to the side of the yard. He
nodded in the direction of the trough.

The sight of a well in the yard surprised me,
as it was the first one I had seen in the city. Percy, grateful for
the find, drank noisily from the trough. I ran my hand down the
horse’s mane suddenly feeling deep gratitude to the creature for
all he had done for us. Sadness swept over me as I realized that
our journey together was at an end and wondered what Simon would do
with him now that he had no further need of him. As if summoned by
my thoughts, I glanced up to see Simon standing in the gates at the
entrance to the yard holding a large jug, which I assumed was
filled with local ale. I smiled knowingly across at him as he held
the jug up in a feigned toast.

“Do you know where the house is?” I asked,
having managed to extract Percy from the water trough long enough
to guide him toward the gates and out of the stable yard.

Simon nodded, “Oh aye, Corran, that I do,” he
said, his voice light and playful.

“Well where is it then?” I said,
impatiently.

“Seems that we haven’t got far to go. It’s
down a snickelway off Stonegate. I was told to keep a look out for
a print shop and when I found it I would know where to go.”

It was a narrow and very dark alley, daylight
totally obscured by a ceiling of eaves. The alley opened up into a
courtyard and then again narrowed to a longer dark alley. There was
no hope of taking Percy as far as the door which was situated at an
angle in the wall, midway down the second alley. Simon passed me
the key for the door, the jug of ale and the saddlebags and nodded
in the direction of the alley.

“You take this lot and wait for me in the
yard. I am going to see what I can do with this troublesome
creature.”

I shot him an accusing look. “Don’t talk
about Percy like that,” I said, reaching up to pat the horse.

“You are a daft woman,” he said, leading the
animal away. “It’s a horse, Corran, just a horse.”

He was not gone long and returned without the
horse, sporting a triumphant broad smile.

“What have you done with him?” I asked.

“I sold it. There is always someone ready to
buy a horse at a fair price, especially when you have not long
since stumbled upon a post house with stables,” he boasted,
sporting a cheeky grin.