The Thistle and the Rose Page 30

  “Ladies, lords, gentlefolk of the Campbell lands!” Dunbar called out from his place at the center of the hall, drawing the guests’ attention. “This evening, through the gracious generosity of Lord Hugh Campbell, to help celebrate the union of two loved ones, we present to you a masque, a pageant, a play.”

  Father William paused for effect, then swept his arms like a magician conjuring up a new world, a world of imagination. The guests were so quiet that the only sound was the crackle of the fires in the great hearths. Then the music of lyres, oboes, and trumpets floated harmoniously in the air.

  “Just as the star of day began to shine,” the poet began, taking Colin's hand and leading him in a small circle and ending where he began. “The Lover rose up and by a rosebush sat down to rest, for no sleep had he for many days or nights.

  “When up sprang the golden candle of Dawn, with clear, crystalline beams of light. And before Phoebus had risen and shed his cloak of purple, the lark, heaven's minstrel, in joy called out to the Morn.

  “Then, angel-like, the birds sang in the green, green bowers, and the fields were a blanket of colors. Enameled with dew, the meadow gleamed red and white with the May flowers so bright and new. The sun shone on the young rosebuds, the dewdrops burning like ruby sparks. And the birds skipped in the branches in the glory of the spring.”

  Dunbar took a few steps toward the entrance and turned once again to face the enraptured guests.

  “Beside the spot where the Lover lay,” he proclaimed, gesturing with his hand toward the entrance end of the hall. “A blue and glittering loch washed the green banks of the meadow.

  “There, suddenly,” Dunbar called out dramatically in a loud voice, “the Lover saw, as if in a fantastic dream, a sail as white as a blossom upon a green spray, and a ship of gold sped as quickly as a falcon to the shore.”

  To the surprise of all the guests, what appeared to be a small, golden boat glided halfway into the open double doors of the hall entrance, a white sail fluttering above.

  “And to the Lover's amazed eyes, a hundred fair maidens in clothes of purest white, their glittering hair whipped with golden threads, tripped gaily from the ship and, like dancing lilies, frolicked in the meadow green. Homer and Cicero, with tongues sweet, could not describe the beauty of this paradise.”

  Two servants quickly placed a plank on the low railing of the boat, and stood by to lend a hand as a dozen or more girls and young women from the village skipped down from the ship and out into the hall, to the appreciative applause of the surprised onlookers.

  “And then entered Cupid the King and love's queen, Venus, on his arm,” the poet continued, directing the audience's attention back to the ship, where Lord Hugh and Agnes were walking in majesty down the plank and toward three chairs that had been placed at the end of the hall. “And with the company came the lusty knight, Duty, who carries with him the magnificent Golden Targe of the gods.”

  With great pomp, Alec, as Duty, strode from the boat and stood at his place behind the third chair between `King Cupid' and `Queen Venus.' On his arm he bore a brilliant, round shield, the Golden Targe, which he held aloft to the crowd's murmurs of approval.

  “And then the Lover spied the Lady who, with her handmaiden, Beauty, entered the meadow to do homage to the spring.”

  Colin hardly heard the loud cheers as Celia entered the hall. Like a glorious queen, she glowed with a majesty that literally stopped the breath within him. She was like some divinity sent from above. And Celia’s eyes never left him as she and a village girl made their way to where Hugh and Agnes awaited them. The young maiden, as Beauty, sat demurely before her Lady.

  “As these lovely ladies danced and played, the Lover hid himself among the green leaves, content to watch the merriment...and the Lady. But then, Venus herself spied the spectator and called on her party to arrest the Lover.”

  As Agnes stood and pointed at Colin, the maidens formed a line to attack him.

  “But then the warrior Duty, in armor of plate and mail, with shield of gold, came to the aid of the Lover and defended the noble knight,” Dunbar continued, and Alec crossed the room with the gilded shield held high.

  “Into the press pursued Youth, Green Innocence, and Obedience. On followed Nurture, Patience, and Steadfastness. A cloud of arrows fell like a shower of hail.”

  When the warrior reached Colin, he held the targe up, fending off the invisible arrows that the attacking maidens were launching in pantomime at the Lover. The white-clad ladies encircled the Lover and Duty, his defender. Again and again they pretended to press forward and then fall back as if repulsed in their efforts.

  “Alas, their efforts were rebuffed. The Golden Targe allowed none to find their mark. To Venus and the king they retreated.”

  Like trained dancers responding to the sound of the music, the village women flew across the floor to Venus and the others. The village maid, as Beauty, rose to her feet at Agnes's beckoning.

  “Then Venus the Queen called out for the damsel Beauty to lead her troops once more into the fray.”

  Crossing to Duty and the Lover, at the head of her legion, Beauty held her fist up in the air, as if holding something in it, and, on the poet priest's word, pretended to throw it at Alec.

  “Then Beauty cast a powder into Duty's eyes, and he staggered unseeing as a drunken man. Alas, when he was blind, they played the fool with him and led him away.”

  With a shout of cheerful merriment, some of the ladies spun the `blind' Duty around and led him playfully away.

  “And Beauty took the defenseless Lover as her prisoner,” Dunbar went on as the young girl took Colin by the hand directly to Celia, who was now standing between Lord Hugh and Agnes.

  “She led him to his Beloved, where he pledged his life and his love to her service.”

  Great cheers went up as Colin took the blushing Celia by the hand and kissed her soundly before the entire assembly.

  Father William approached the couple and whispered a word to them. Then, leading Lord Hugh and Agnes and the entire group of performers, the wedded couple paraded hand in hand before the guests and stopped in the center of the hall.

  As they came to a halt before the assembled host, Runt and Ellen entered with Kit and delivered the infant to Celia, who in turn handed the smiling baby to Colin. Colin carefully held the child aloft for all to see, and then gave the infant back to Celia. The crowd applauded happily.

  Calling for silence with an upraised hand, Dunbar addressed the audience once more, directing their attention to Edmund, who was marching solemnly across the hall between the performers and the guests.

  “And then...And then...Behold! All at once, Aeolus the Wind enters and spreads his airy blessing. And the Lover and the Beloved and all of that happy legion fled once again to the ship.” Celia and Colin led the others across the floor to the ship at the entrance, where all quickly disappeared from sight. The plank was removed, and the ship began to back out the doorway. “In a twinkling of an eye, the ship departed, and out over the flood they flew. And the cannons roared in joyful celebration...until it seemed the heavens had opened.”

  As Dunbar concluded his final words, all of Kildalton's cannons came booming to life in a thunderous chorus of tribute.

  Amid the wild cheering of the guests, the performers filed back into the hall, with Lord Hugh and Agnes in the lead.

  The last to enter, Alec paused at the door. And with a broad smile on his face, he held up his hand.

  “Lord Campbell and Lady Campbell have retired for the night!” he shouted to the boisterous revelers.

  Once the assembly had returned to South Hall, Alec heartily shook Colin's hand and kissed Celia on the forehead and pushed the two of them toward the steps.

  Hand in hand, the newlyweds ran all the way to the top of the great stairs. Once there, Colin reached down and swept the blushing Celia into his arms, carrying her the remainder of the way to his room. As they reached his closed door, Celia took his chin in one hand and looked
directly into his eyes.

  “My bruises have barely healed from the last time we worked on this tradition,” she said coolly, her efforts to hide her smile proving inadequate. “I do not recall anything in the ceremony about having to serve as a battering ram.”

  With a wry smile, Colin kicked open the heavy oak door and carried her straight through into the room.

  Going to the bed, he deposited her gently on the edge and kissed her slowly, his mouth lingering on hers with a tangible promise of what was to come.

  “Do not go anywhere,” he said with a smile, crossing the room to the door and barring it shut.

  The room was adorned in a style befitting a royal couple. Everywhere Celia looked in the candlelit room, there were signs of Agnes's thoughtfulness and taste. Every table held stoneware vases of daffodils and tulips and greenery. A multitude of dishes held every imaginable food, prepared with care and presented with artistic flourish. Bottles of ale and French wines sat amid a sparkling collection of crystal goblets, and a small fire crackled cozily on the stone hearth.

  “Colin,” Celia said, surveying the spread in the room. “We have enough food here to last us a week!”

  “That's the plan, my love,” he responded with a grin as he moved back to the bed. “It's the custom for the bride to stay in the apartment until the fourth day. We wouldn't want you to starve.”

  “What do you mean, `you'?” Celia asked. “Where are you going to be?”

  “Well, customarily, the groom participates in the festivities that have been planned for the next week, while the bride rests.” Colin paused. “But I thought we'd change that.”

  “You mean,” Celia smiled, “that you're going to rest with me?”

  “I thought we might rest a little...play a little...play a little...maybe play a little more.” As Colin spoke the words, he stood in front of Celia and removed her crown, placing it on a small table beside the bed. Then, taking both of her forearms in his hands, he lifted her to him. Running his hands into her auburn locks, he pulled her head back and stared into her beautiful face, her loving eyes.

  Celia felt his strength as he pulled her up from the bed. And then, his lips were on hers. Suddenly she wanted to bury herself in him, lose herself, drown in him. Her body arched as she pressed against him, her breasts hurting inside the tight wedding garments, hurting as she pushed against his hard chest, hurting for his touch.

  As their mouths caressed searchingly, Colin's hands traveled across the tight bodice of the gown, finding their way to the back, to the thousand and one buttons that imprisoned the body that he longed to feel.

  Celia knew that her warrior husband's patience was growing thin as he fumbled with the first few buttons. He was looking over her shoulder and muttering strange curses when Celia drew Colin's new dagger from the sheath at his waist.

  “Colin?” she said, pulling away from him and holding the weapon up.

  “Hmm.” He nodded with a smile, taking it from her and pulling her back tightly to him.

  The whirring sound of pearl buttons being shaved from the thick material was one of the most liberating Celia had ever experienced. Reaching up, she undid the gold clasp that held the black cape on his shoulder. With one motion, Colin ducked out of the leather strap and the scarf of Campbell plaid that crisscrossed his white shirt.

  A sense of urgency was building between them as they felt a growing need to remove each other's clothing. As Celia began to slide the gown forward off her shoulders, Colin reached over to place the dagger on the table with the coronet.

  “Do not disarm too quickly, love,” Celia said enigmatically.

  Colin turned to see his bride confined in a corset that revealed more than it hid. The ivory skin of her neck and shoulders, the swells of the bound up breasts, the long, smooth arms that reached out to him. He took her into his arms and kissed her deeply, longingly, passionately.

  “Colin?” she whispered breathlessly into his ear. “Would you help me out of this?”

  Colin turned her around and, with a single pass, cut the crisscross of laces that fastened the garment so tightly. Celia shook the corset to the floor and stepped out of the multitude of slips. When she turned around she was dressed only in a silk shift, and Colin was wearing only his kilt, the white shirt tossed carelessly aside.

  Celia was drawn into Colin's embrace as the morning dew is drawn to the sun.

  The hours that followed were filled with discovery and passion. It seemed to Celia as if one satisfying moment led into the next. As if one fulfilled desire evoked another. Finally, basking in the warm glow of their love, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, watching the colors outside the window lighten with the encroaching dawn.

  “That busy old fool of a sun will be peering in at us in no time,” Colin smiled, covering Celia's shoulders.

  “Colin,” she breathed, dozing snugly in the warmth of his embrace. “I think I know why brides get four days to rest.”

  “Celia,” he responded teasingly. “Do you want four days to rest?”

  Celia snuggled even closer to him. “I'm getting all the rest I need, right now, thank you.”

  Chapter 15

  Those four days were the happiest of Celia's life.

  Everyone respected the newlyweds’ time together, and Celia and Colin made the most of it. Between the hours of leisurely lovemaking in which Celia learned so much about what a man and a woman can be to each other, they spent time with Kit, giving Ellen and Runt time to share as well. Colin genuinely enjoyed the attentions of the baby and the antics that Kit seemed to save only for him. Once, while watching them playing together, Celia grew misty-eyed, thinking that the day would soon come when she would have to part with Kit.

  When Colin noticed the emotion in her face, he casually mentioned that Father William had very clearly stipulated that making babies was a top priority for lovers. The suggestive tilt of his eyebrows made Celia both blush and ardently wish for Ellen's speedy return.

  On the day after the wedding, following lunch, Colin took Celia to the garden. To her amazement and delight, the garden had been transformed. It appeared that an army of gardeners had been at work, and Colin admitted that there had been a few members of the castle staff employed in the clean-up.

  The walls had been cleared of old, dead vines, and a fresh coat of whitewash had been applied. All of the beds and paths had been emptied of debris. Even the fountain had been cleaned, and Celia dipped her fingers into the cold, clear water flowing within it. The turf bench seats had all been trimmed and large pots of soil had been placed at a number of spots, awaiting Celia's choice of plantings. New trellises replaced the old ones and climbing roses had been pruned and arranged upon them.

  “It's all ready for you, my love,” Colin whispered, looking over her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. “It's all yours to do with as you please. I just couldn't see you getting scratched up anymore, correcting twenty-five years of neglect.”

  “Oh, Colin,” she said, overtaken with emotion. “I hope I can make this garden as happy a place as it was when your mother was alive.”

  “You already have, love,” he said. “You've brought my father back out here. He even had the door into the chapel yard opened.” Colin pointed at the narrow door in the wall.

  “Could we go in there, Colin?” she asked. “I do not want to intrude on your own memories, I just—”

  “She would have loved you, Celia,” he interrupted. “And this castle is your new home now, just as it was once her new home. We are already making our own memories.”

  Taking her hand, Colin opened the door and led her through the wall into the chapel yard. Cool, green, and walled, the small area was quartered by two crossing paths. To her left, Celia saw an entrance into the castle's small chapel. To her right, she saw a crypt. Walking side by side down the path, they entered the crypt, and Celia saw the reclining sculpture of a young woman. Beside his wife's resting place, Lord Hugh had readied his own, though no sculpture adorned the marb
le slab that awaited him.

  Celia knelt respectfully beside the grave, and after whispering a quiet prayer, she stood and turned to Colin, who stood pensively behind her.

  “Thank you, Colin,” she said.

  Colin smiled lovingly and nodded, and the two went back into the garden.

  There, in the friendly surroundings of their little paradise, they sat beneath one of the cherry trees and talked. The pinkish white flowers of the cherry blossoms were just beginning to fall, and they laughed at the snow-like petals that were floating into their hair.

  Celia told him about one of her travels with her father. About the Festival of the Cherry Blossom that she'd witnessed in the Orient. Colin told her about eating so many cherries one day when he was around six years old that he hadn't been able to even look at a cherry for the rest of that summer. He'd been sick to his stomach, but he didn't want to tell Agnes or Hugh what he'd done for fear of admitting that he'd gone into the garden.

  They talked of the future, and Celia spoke of her inheritance as belonging to both of them. Of wanting to use it the way that Colin was using the Campbell resources...for the good of the people who depended on them.

  The sun was warm in the protected privacy of the garden. Hidden from everyone, they walked and she talked of herbs and flowers and of the pleasure that they would have seeing them grow. Halting in the most protected corner, Colin sat on a bench behind an enclosing fence of latticework. Pulling her to his lap, he laughingly mentioned other pleasures that the garden might produce.

  He lifted Celia's chin and brushed his lips across hers.

  “Do you think Father William would consider making love while sitting on my lap `unnatural'?”

  Celia moved her body slightly, aware of the arousal beneath Colin's kilt. The white dress that she was wearing was not so thick as to hinder the sensations she was feeling.

  “If you show me,” she answered coyly. “We'll be able to make a better decision later.”