Aelswyn and the Angels

Chapter Four - Reflections, Part Two

As Trystyn followed the servant to the Great Hall, he did so with not a little bit of trepidation. Physically, he had never felt fitter, but emotionally he was a wreck inside. Swallowing it down, he concentrated on the matter at hand. She was going to be there. He wished he could feign illness, but he was completely healed. Not a trace of blood or pain remained. His vision was clear. The only problem seemed to be that he could hear his own heartbeat in his head. He felt stronger, somehow better than afore, although that shouldna be possible. There was simply no way around it. He had to sit at the same table as her. He hoped he was seated far away from her, as well. He could feel her presence in the castel and he couldn’t remove his thoughts from her. He felt stifled and unable to think.

His imagination seemed to grow in leaps and bounds and his mind alerted him to all the possible situations that could arise from one simple meeting. There was also the prospect of seeing her face. On the surface of his thoughts, he allowed the image of an ugly Lady Aelswyn to form and found that it displeased him. He truly wanted to see if she was the image he had held in his mind for so long. Only to himself could he admit how much she had plagued him o’er the years. He carried her tears in his heart. It was galling to realize he was still causing her pain, and guilt washed over him. 

Clasping his hands behind his back, he noticed the state of his palms. Bringing his hands to the front and rubbing them together, he discovered a fine sheen of sweat. He was nervous. Holy bearn, he was frightened of a chit of a girl. If only she didna touch him, could he get through it, he was sure. He would have to pretend to kiss her hand, though, as was customary when greeting your betrothed for the first time.  He wondered if he could do so without actually touching her. The fact that he hadna done so, ere then, was moot. What was done, couldna be undone. He was, at least, sure of that if nothing else.

All too soon, he had reached the great hall with its giant hearth on the same wall as the equally large doors. Pages were stationed everywhere and there were men, women and e’en some children roaming about doing one task or another. The floor had been swept and fresh rushes were being spread about. The scent of lavender and fresh straw assaulted his senses and his spirits lifted a mite.  Suits of armor lined the other walls among tapestries of the finest design, and o’er the fireplace hung an array of weapons. Some of them he had never seen afore, and he mentally reminded himself to ask Olaf about them.

Spying the Duk and his father, he headed in their direction, passing Lady Iborae on the way and sparing her a light smile, he nodded his head. His father’s face lit up at the sight of him and he felt his confidence rise a tad more. He could do this. He could face her. He hoped he could. He just needed some kind of assurance that she would no’ cause him pain again.  The reminder caused him to shiver and he mentally checked himself.

“Good morrow, min byre.” His father extended his hand to his son, and taking it, Trystyn smiled widely. His father showed a side of himself that he had never seen and he was elated to be free of the strain of only a day afore.  “I trust ye slept well?”

“Aye, Fæder.” Trystyn clapped his father on the back warmly and then turned to Lord Olaf. “Good morrow to ye, as well, Lord Duk.”

“Ye must call me Olaf as min druit, here, does.” Indicating Lord Edgard with a nod of his head, Lord Olaf smiled, and then greeted Trystyn with a welcoming hand clasp. “Ye are to be family ‘ere this day is out.”

The news surprised Trystyn, e’en though he knew the castel was being prepared for just that. He had let himself believe the activity was a normal thing, but looking around him again, he realized it had been so long since he was at Hraefengeat, and he couldna recall their habits. There was a giant tub by the hearth where a group of women were busy washing all the children in the keep while they squirmed and played, splashing in the water. Trystyn was certain the men of the keep had been instructed to do so, as well, and he grinned to himself.