Chapter 8
SARAH GETS THE JITTERS, PART 2:
Four hours, and an eternity of primping and preening later, Sarah was finally ready.
The Sun had set outside an hour ago and Sarah could already hear muffled sounds of music and merriment making their way into her room. It looked like there was one hell of a party going on downstairs. Sarah was getting more and more anxious with each passing minute. Now that she was ready Sarah felt extremely apprehensive about going downstairs. She really didn’t have any compulsion to parade herself in front of a roomful of strange men.
“Oh M’lady, ye look so beautiful.” Glenda whispered awe struck. Unfortunately Sarah wasn’t the least bit curious; her mind was too busy fretting about tonight.
Glenda rushed her excitedly to the corner of the room to stand her in front of the ivory bordered polished metal mirror.
For a minute even Sarah was speechless, Glenda had really outdone her self this time. The beautiful golden gown was extremely flattering on her, for the first time in her life Sarah couldn’t actually find anything to criticize about her own appearance. She ran a tentative hand over the rich material with the amazingly detailed black embroidery.
Sarah unconsciously traced the pattern of tiny birds and flowers across the border of the round neckline with her fingertips. She liked the way the golden cloth was slit at the elbows, to reveal the skin tight black sleeves which Glenda had sown on underneath. Her waist was accentuated by a jeweled belt with gold links, enclosing small, white ivory plates. The bodice of the gown, as always was tight, and though it concealed any skin it still drew the eye to every alluring dip and hollow of her upper body.
Sarah couldn’t help twirling around to get the full effect of her gown. The heavy skirts fluttered and shifted sinuously with every movement she made. It was a dress fit for a medieval princess and Sarah felt extremely lucky to be the one standing there wearing it. Eat your heart out, Gwyneth Paltrow.
But it was her hair that Sarah liked best, it was just perfect. Glenda had urged her to wear a matching golden head-dress but Sarah had been adamant against wearing the thing. It was far too big and clunky. She really didn’t feel like walking around all night with a giant mushroom on her head.
Giving up, Glenda had finally brushed Sarah’s long titian mane until it shone like molten fire and then bound it into one thick glossy braid with black and gold ribbon. She had also cleverly used small pearl tipped pins down the length of her braid and finished off the look with solid gold butterfly combs pinned onto the crown of Sarah’s head.
“You look lovely, child.”
Surprised Sarah looked at Lady Catherine who stood transfixed in the open doorway. She could see the pride in her mother’s eyes. For a moment they just stared at one another, a myriad of unspoken emotions forming an intangible bond between them.
“Thank you, mother.”
Lady Catherine walked into the room slowly surveying Sarah from head to toe. She was mesmerized by Sarah’s transformation tonight, her heart swelled with pride as she looked at the beautiful young lady standing before her. Her little girl had turned into a woman, a beautiful young woman worthy of the finest things in life. Catherine placed a trembling hand on her daughter’s cheek. There was so much she wanted to say but she could hardly find the words.
Catherine was a product of her time, as a woman in the Middle-Ages it was her duty to follow her husband and comply with his every command. It wasn’t her station in life to question she was there to obey no matter how strong her own apprehensions. And standing here, looking at her beautiful young daughter Catherine was burdened with apprehensions, in fact many of them and the reason for every single one of them had already arrived downstairs.
To Catherine at least, the Black Wolf was the embodiment of every rumor she had ever heard about him. She had felt her breath catch when she had had her first good look at the Barbarian; he dwarfed every other man in the hall not only with his size but with the sheer force of his presence. Everything about the man’s appearance was intimidating from the top of his head to the soles of his tanned leather shoes.
He was dressed in a knee length belted plaid tossed over one shoulder with a saffron shirt underneath. His shoulder length jet black hair wasn’t bound or styled, it was wild and free like the man himself. The Laird was accompanied by a small troupe of highlanders and they were all completely out of place in the glittering assemblage of well dressed knights and ladies, and everyone present knew it. Judging by the pin drop silence which had descended upon the Hall as the Laird had entered with his men Catherine wasn’t the only one intimidated. Although every man there watched the Lairds progress with a sneer on his face, Twas quite obvious none of them took the giant lightly.
The Laird hadn’t so much as glanced at her husband as he had walked in, nor had he offered his host any semblance of a greeting. Twas an obvious insult, designed to draw a response. Catherine was well aware that Arnoff had felt the slight, she had seen Arnoff's body stiffen with rage, but fortunately he hadn’t risen to the barb. He had been on the verge of saying something but he had held his tongue at the last moment, much to Catherine’s relief. A Baron her husband may, be but Catherine had a feeling neither her husband nor his soldiers were a match for the Laird. She had had a sinking feeling that no man in that hall was.
The Laird had seemed supremely unconcerned with the impact of his arrival; the man seemed oblivious to the tension in the room nay impervious, and Catherine had sighed with relief when he had picked up a tankard of wine from a nearby table and headed over to a shadowy corner of the hall accompanied by his men. There he had seated himself comfortably, deliberately isolated from the rest of the guests, looking very much like a panther eyeing the proceedings with a chillingly stony gaze.
The feast had resumed after a few awkward moments of silence but no one had been able to ignore the menacing presence of the strangers in the hall, least of all Catherine herself.
She had dreaded coming to get Sarah as Arnoff had commanded, Catherine didn’t want her daughter within a hundred yards of the Laird or his men but she had no choice in the matter, she had to leave the hall and get Sarah and she had had to do it quickly. Her husband’s mood had taken a definite turn for the worse and Catherine knew that any delaying tactics would not have been well received; so with deep reservations Catherine had gotten up off her seat and headed for the arched entryway.
But she hadn’t been able to suppress the shiver that had trickled down her spine as she had hurried past the seated men nor the feeling of foreboding that had clutched at her heart.
She prayed to God that her husband was right; that the highlanders would not prevail in the tourney, the mere thought of losing her daughter to such a fearsome man was too dreadful to even contemplate.
Ever since Sarah’s first breath she had been a ray of sunshine in Catherine’s life and like any mother she had always prayed that her daughter would go to a man who was kind, someone who would take care of her, someone who would cherish her and give her all the luxuries that she was accustomed too.
Catherine wanted the very best for her little girl and the thought of losing her to a man with nary an ounce of kindness in his bearing was tying her insides into knots.
Now, standing here with her little angel, Catherine prayed with all her soul for an English knight to win the tournament.
She had no idea that her thoughts were mirrored on her expressive face or that Sarah was finely attuned to her mothers feelings.
Sarah wanted to reassure her, she wanted to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, that there was no need to worry about her but she couldn’t do that. She could never tell Lady Catherine about the deal she had made with the Baron. His words were still ringing in her ears, “She might object to her daughter taking vows” and so with a heavy heart Sarah stayed silent. She had to console herself with the fact that soon all this lying and subterfuge would be at an end. Soon she would be in a convent and out of their hair.
She couldn’t let herself think of how that might actually be worse for this woman who was looking at her with teary eyed love. But Sarah really didn’t have any other choice.
“Let us go downstairs daughter. You father is waiting.” Catherine said jerkily, turning away to hide the tears that were threatening to overflow.
Sarah watched her mother sadly; she knew she couldn’t do anything to alleviate her worry. All she could do was to quietly follow her out of the room.