Chapter Fourteen #3
Aaran watched closely as Lady Freya balanced the instrument against her shoulder and plucked a few notes, refreshing the music in her memory.
At length, she nodded to Theodora to begin the introduction.
When she joined in, Aaran could see how she had become part of the music as her fingers caressed the strings.
He wished they had children who could emulate and admire their mother, for he held no doubt that Lady Freya’s performance would be spectacular.
She was so beautiful in her stillness before she struck the first few strings that the image snatched Aaran’s breath away.
She sang…
Lord Thomas was a bold forester
And chastener of the King’s deer.
Fair Eleanor was a lady gay
Lord Thomas, he loved her dear
Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender
Sat all day on a hill;
When night came, and the sun was gone,
They’d not yet said their fill.
Entranced by both her beauty and her voice, Aaran sat perfectly still, as did each in the room, including the servants, all fearing to break the enchantment Lady Freya had placed on the room.
Lord Thomas spoke a word in jest
And Ellender took it ill:
“Oh, I’ll never marry me a wife
Against my family’s will.”
Aaran thought the words he had heard at least a hundred times suddenly felt very personal.
“If you will never wed thee a wife,
A wife will never wed thee!”
So he rode home to tell his mother
And knelt upon his knee.
“Mother, come Mother, come riddle to me
Come riddle it all in one
And tell me whether to marry Fair Ellender
Or bring the Brown Girl home?”
It was as if Lady Freya was asking him that particular question.
She was obviously the “Fair Ellender” in his life, and the woman he had yet to choose, the one with the darker hair, not fair headed as was Lady Freya, was the Brown Girl.
He was sorry Duncan had requested the song.
It was as if a knife had sliced into Aaran’s heart, and he could no longer breathe.
Meanwhile, Lady Freya continued her song.
“The Brown Girl gives you houses and land
Fair Ellender, she has none.
And there I charge you, take success
And bring the Brown Girl home.”
Aaran noted tears had formed in Lady Freya’s eyes, and he heartily wished he could change things for both of them.
He dressed himself all in his best
His merry men all in white
And every town he passed through
They took him for a knight.
He went till he came to Fair Ellender’s court
So loudly twirled at the pin.
There was none so ready as fair Ellender herself
To let Lord Thomas in.
Lady Freya’s gaze shifted to meet his, and it was as if the others in the room disappeared. In an effort to force the tension from his body, Aaran clenched and unclenched his hands in a poor attempt at hiding his anguish behind a well-rehearsed bland expression that fooled no one, including him.
“Bad news, bad news, Lord Thomas,” she said.
“Bad news you bring to me.
You’ve come to ask me to your wedding,
When I thought your bride to be.”
She turned around and dressed in white,
Her sisters dressed in green,
And every town they rode through
They took her for some queen.
With her fair coloring and red hair, Freya could be Elizabeth I, the warrior queen, who some believed was the inspiration for the ballad, and the idea both frightened and pleased Aaran at the same time. He was seeing Lady Freya in an all-new light.
They rode and they rode till they came to the hall,
So loudly she twirled at the pin
And none so ready as Lord Thomas himself
To let Fair Ellender in.
Lady Freya’s voice mesmerized Aaran, as easily as it did the others in the room. He had never heard the song done so well and with so much passion.
He took her by her lily-white hand
When leading her through the hall
Saying, “Fifty gay ladies are here today
But here is the flower of them all.”
“Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?” she said.
“She looks most wonderfully brown
You might have had as fair a woman
As ever trod Scotland’s ground.”
How might I ever be able to take another to my bed, when my heart has claimed this woman? Despite Aaran’s misery, Lady Freya sang on. She appeared to know desolation equal to his own.
“Despise her not, Fair Ellender,” he cried.
“Despise her not to me.
For I love the end of your little finger
More than her whole body.”
The Brown Girl, she was standing by
With knife ground keen and sharp,
Between the long ribs and the short,
She pierced Fair Ellender’s heart.
Lady Freya’s voice cracked with emotions, but no one in the room let out the breath he or she held, including him. Aaran knew sending her away to marry Sir Patrick was like piercing both her heart and his.
“Oh, what the matter?” Lord Thomas said.
“You look so pale and wan;
You used to have so fair a color
As ever the sun shone on.”
“Oh, you are blind, Lord Thomas!” she said.
“Or can’t you very well see?
Oh, can’t you see my own heart’s blood
As it trickles down on thee?”
What was he doing to the both of them? How could he be so cruel to her? He had told Lady Annalise earlier how he felt when his mother had walked away from him. Could he truly do the same to this woman? All he wanted was her happiness, not even a bit for himself, only for her.
Lady Freya played a complete phrase before her eyes settled upon him alone again. The rest of the room disappeared from his vision. In that moment, only the two of them existed, and both their hearts were breaking, for they, like Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender had no future.
He took the Brown Girl by the hand
And led her across the hall.
He took off his sword and cut off her head
And threw it against the wall.
Oh, Mother, oh Mother, go dig my grave;
Go dig it both wide and deep,
And place Fair Ellender in my arms
And the Brown Girl at my feet.
Her voice and the song drew Aaran in, like a moth to a flame. He wished to hold Lady Freya’s hand and profess his devotion. Dare he proclaim his love and set the wheels of no return in motion? Would marrying Sir Patrick be the end of Lady Freya’s life? The end of his also?
He placed his sword against the wall
The point against his breast,
Saying, “This is the end of three poor lovers
God, take us all to rest.”
They buried Ellender in the old churchyard;
They buried Lord Thomas beside her.
Lady Freya’s voice was steady, but sad, as she finished the last two verses. It was as if she had accepted what could not be changed, and the idea broke Aaran’s heart.
Out of his grave grew a red, red rose,
And out of hers a briar.
They grew and grew up the old church wall
Till they could grow no higher,
And at the top twined a lover’s knot
The red rose and the briar.
While the others offered the applause and praise, Aaran was slow to rise, pretending his twisted leg had fallen numb. Though Lady Freya thanked all for their accolades, she appeared as miserable as was he, and everything he had thought of her was turned upon its head once again.