There is a knock at the door. I open my eyes, vaguely remembering flying in my dream. Light comes through the window. I roll out of bed, and my feet hit the wooden floor. Still in Ireland. I walk over to the door and open it.
“Morning, sir,” Aisling says as she brings a water pitcher into the room.
“Good morning,” I say.
Aisling pours water into the basin and lays down a fresh towel and cloth. “The morning meal will be served in the hall when you are ready.”
“Do you know where my toothbrush is?” I ask.
“Toothbrush?” she asks, repeating the word.
“You know,” I say. “Something to clean my teeth.”
“Ah sure, you just chew the hazel twig and dip it in the mint paste to scrub your teeth. That’s what I do. You can use the cloth, too.”
“That should work,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Anything else, sir?”
I think about it and realize I didn’t know what to wear. “Can you help me with my outfit?”
“Certainly, sir. What are you thinking of doing?”
“I will be riding out with Aodhán and practicing with our swords.”
“Sure, let me see,” she says as she rummages through the wardrobe and pulls out brown leather pants, a white linen shirt, and a leather vest. “Take these and the leather gauntlets you wore yesterday.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Are you still having a bother with your memory, sir?” she asks.
“Yes. Everything is still strange.”
“I’ll be out in the hall if you need a hand getting sorted.”
“Thank you,” I say as she leaves the room and closes the door.
I take off my cloak and hang it back on the wall. Then I change into leather trousers and the linen tunic, struggling with the neck lacing.
I open the door and find Aisling wiping the oil lantern. “I could use your help if you don’t mind.”
Aisling put down her cloth. “Sure.”
“I am struggling with lacing my collar.”
She comes back into my room and opens the drapes to let in more light. Then she straightens my mess with the lace, ensuring the leather crosses evenly and tying a loose bow.
“Is this too tight?” she asks, searching my eyes for an answer.
“It’s perfect.”
She picks up the vest for me to slip into. The leather vest has four leather straps with buckles that run up the chest. Aisling threads each one and tightens them from my waist to my neck.
I feel so serene with her helping me and smelling flowers in her hair. It reminds me of Rose when she would straighten my collar. I wonder how she is handling all of this.
“Did you usually dress me before today?” I ask.
“Sometimes. Depending on your mood.” She picks up one of the leather gauntlets, slides it over my right cuff and straps it to my arm. She repeats with my left arm. Then she notices my feet are bare.
“Good heavens!” she says with a smile. “Hasn’t anyone taught you to dress?”
“You are,” I say. “And I appreciate all of it.” I feel like a kid having my mother dress me.
Aisling reaches into the wardrobe, pulls out a pair of woolen socks, and hands them to me. Then she grabs a pair of leather boots. “You’ll be needing these today.”
I sit on the sofa and slip on the socks and boots. The boots are strange. They are like cowboy boots without a heel that slide up to my knees. Two leather straps are anchored near the bottom, and there are slits near the top of the boot. I just stare at them before Aisling shakes her head and kneels to tie my right boot, wrapping the leather straps around the calf and across each other, then wrapping around again. She slides each end through the leather slits near the top and ties them in a bow.
“Thanks,” I say. “I think I can do the left boot.” I repeat what I saw her do, fumbling with the straps until she takes them from my hands and finishes tying them. Then she pats both legs as she stands up.
“You’ll get the way of it,” she says. “I can see now your memory is gone. Do you still remember your wife from the other time?”
I look at her and remember my conversation with her yesterday. “Yes,” I say. “It was like yesterday that I left her.”
“One more thing,” she says, pulling out a comb. “Turn around.” She combs my hair and ties it into a ponytail with a leather strap.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Look, I’ve been thinking on what you said, and I’m terribly sorry for throwing myself at you like that. I’ve heard tell of that kind of thing happening, but I didn’t believe you. I know now you were straight with me.”
“I think it’s only temporary,” I say. “I don’t want to screw up John’s life while I am here.”
“Fair enough,” she says. “You’re a good man, where you come from. I don’t think he would have rescued a slave. Aodhán told me all about how you put her on your horse and weren’t going to let her go.”
“There are no slaves where I come from. All people have rights and freedom.”
“That must be sometime in the future. We all live to serve some master. But I’m curious about this other life of yours.”
“Maybe, someday—” I say, hearing Aodhán calling for me. “Someday I will tell you.”
“You’d better be going,” Aisling says. “Remember how to get to the big room?”
“I do. Thank you.” I leave my room and make my way to the banquet hall.
Anna, Henry, Aodhán and Clodagh are already eating. I realize Aodhán is Henry’s son, which explains why he’s eating with us. I sit next to Clodagh.
I am served a plate of poached eggs, roasted ham, and buttered toast. This is all served with warm cider. A sip of the cider reminds me of the mulled wine I had at the Christmas markets in Germany, with a hint of cinnamon. This is impressive for a medieval serving.
I realize there was no coffee in medieval times, so I don’t ask.
“Are you going out of town today?” Henry asks Aodhán in his thick Irish accent.
“We had it in mind to go up the country and do a bit of sword-practice.”
“Don’t go too far now,” Henry says. “The Gaels are wandering up north. Watch yourself and take the south gate.”
“Ah sure, we’ll be careful now, Father,” Aodhán says.
“Can I come with?” Clodagh asks, wearing the blue tunic she had arrived in.
“The tutor is coming over this morning,” Anna says. “And we need to fit you in a few good outfits.”
Clodagh lowers her eyes. “But I like what I have on,” she says in her strong Irish accent.
“You’ve come up in the world.” Anna says. “Things will be different now.”
“Who are the Gaels?” I ask, trying to divert attention away from Clodagh.
“They’re native warriors, living away with the western clans,” Henry says. “They do be speaking Gaelic and riding their horses bareback.”
“Sure, that’s normal around here,” Aodhán says.
“Not in this household,” Anna says in a subtle Irish accent.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because we are merchants,” Anna says. “It’s Norman French or English we speak. Your father prefers English.”
“Sure, that’s why we all do,” Henry says. “We do business with Gaelic folk, and some of us keep the language.”
“One of these days, we’ll all be speaking English,” Anna says.
I turn to look at Clodagh. “How did you come to know English?”
“My mother taught me before she went. Our lord only spoke English and we’d learn to communicate.”
“That’s a good reason,” I say.
After breakfast, Aodhán and I get up from the table.
A servant comes in and speaks to Anna, “The doctor is here for Lord John.”
“Did you call him?” I ask Anna, forgetting about seeing the doctor this morning.
“Sure, I want you to see him before you go.”
I turn to Aodhán. “Give me a few minutes.” I walk into the entryway and see the doctor standing by a side table where he sets down his leather satchel.
“Good morning, Lord John.”
“Good morning, sir. Are you here to check on me?”
“Just to be careful,” he says. “That was a nasty bump.” He walks up to me and feels the back of my head and my forehead. “Your fever is gone, and there is only a slight bump on your noggin. Can you remember anything?” He raises his brow, looking at me with his penetrating brown eyes.
“Not yet, sir. But I’ll be out with Aodhán today, hoping to regain some more of my memory.”
“I see no problem with you running about today. It may be good for you. Just be careful,” he says, looking at Aodhán.
Aodhán nods his head. “We will, sir.”
“Be safe now, son, and have a lovely day,” Anna says, entering the foyer.
“We will, Lady Anna,” I say, not feeling right about calling her mom.
“Go and get your sword,” Aodhán says. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”
I run up the stairs into my bedroom and grab my sword belt and sword out of the wardrobe. I wrap the belt around my waist and sheathe the sword. My heart is racing with this urgency to explore the area.
I come back down the stairs and remember to go to the back of the house to get to the courtyard. Aodhán is waiting for me at the top of the steps when I swing open the heavy oak door.
“It’s looking like a fine day,” says Aodhán. “There’s hardly a cloud in the sky. We’re going to do a bit of riding before we have a go with the swords. I’m showing you your land.”
“Sounds like fun. Maybe this might help my memory.”
The church bells begin to ring. I count nine chimes before we reach the horses. The stableman had already saddled and tethered our horses to the fence railing.
“How long are you gone?” the stableman asks.
“For the best part of the day,” Aodhán says, mounting his horse.
“Make sure to give them a drop of water,” he says.
Aisling runs out of the house carrying a stuffed cloth sack and a leather pouch. She stops in front of me. “Here, sir, I packed a bit of dried meat and bread with a skin of wine in case you wouldn’t be back for dinner.”
“That was kind,” I say, taking what she offered. “Thank you.” I place the sack in the saddlebag and sling the wineskin over my shoulder.
“What about mine?” Aodhán asks Aisling.
“There’s plenty enough for both of you.”
I mount my horse.
“I think she favors you,” Aodhán says as we leave the courtyard, passing the entry guard.
“I don’t mind. She’s nice.”
“She’s grand but be careful. Your mother would replace her in a heartbeat if she thought something was going on between you two.”
I look at Aodhán as we trot down the dirt road bordered by merchant buildings. “Are you serious?”
“Sure. Your mother has plans for you that do not include her.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” I like her and was planning on sharing my story. She is the only one who understands my predicament. I haven’t even told Aodhán the memory of my other life.
We pass several people walking to the church, where a few beggars kneel in front with their hands out. I am about to untie my pouch when Aodhán rides beside me and grabs my arm.
“Not here,” he says, letting go. “Your coins will start a riot and only get us killed. Only give out coppers.”
I don’t recall seeing any copper coins yesterday, so I left my pouch tied up.
We ride over a wooden bridge with timber railings. Merchant ships dock along the pier. The bridge is full of people walking, making way as we pass. We ride into a market with tables of people selling leather goods, fish, woolen clothes, and other medieval items. The portcullis is up at the southern gate. The guards are standing on the wall, looking down at us and raising their hands in a welcoming gesture. Aodhán raises his hand, and so do I.
“Watch yourself,” the guard says. “There are Gaels up north.”
“We’ll keep our distance,” Aodhán says.
“Be back before dark, or the gate goes down.”
We continue across the bridge and come to another tower where two men stand guard.
“Where are you going?” one guard asks, raising his visor.
“We’re off to the woods, riding up north so,” Aodhán says.
“Stay within the county,” the guard says. “Some of our men are saying they spotted an Irish scouting party moving close to the border.”
“Thanks for that now,” Aodhán says. “We’ll be sure to be careful.”
We pass the guard post, walk our horses down the dirt road, and pass another church.
“It sounds like it might be dangerous to go out today,” I say.
“The Gaels wouldn’t be harming us,” Aodhán says. “We’ll be grand.”
We pass the place where I picked up Clodagh yesterday. There is no sign of the men who were chasing after her. The street is pretty quiet. Everyone must have gone to church.
Once we pass the courtyard where monks are gathering cabbage, Aodhán kicks his horse into a gallop.
Boy, I hope I can still do this. I kick my horse and hold on as it bolts to keep up. My ponytail comes loose with my hair streaming behind me. The horse feels so powerful and gives such a smooth ride. We cover a lot of ground this morning, riding through green meadows, forests, and around plowed pastures, staying close to the river. At one point, we cross a wooden bridge and head north. I am getting used to riding like it is becoming natural.
Aodhán rides to the top of a hill, and by the time I crest, Aodhán has stopped. I ride up beside him.
“That’s your family’s land,” he says.
I look down at the pasture and see it may be fifty or more acres. “I thought there was more?”
“Look up,” he says, pointing to the hills around the valley. “As far as you can see and more.”
The hills are miles across with forests and green pastures. My breath is taken away by its expansiveness. I stop looking when I see riders on horseback far in the distance coming out of the forest.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“I can’t say from here. They have the look of the Irish on them.”
“How do you know?”
“They’ve no saddles on them. They’ll be no bother.”
“Didn’t your father mention to be careful?” I ask, remembering his word of caution.
“Sure, but they’re headin’ west, so we’ll be grand here.”
I see a clearing up ahead, out of view of the riders. “Do you want to practice in that clearing?”
“The horses need to take a break,” he says. “I’ll show you the basics, and then we’ll have a go.”
We ride over to the clearing. I dismount and drape the reins over the horse’s neck as I see Aodhán do. We let our horses wander to graze on the lush grass and drink from a nearby stream.
“Will the horses stay near?” I ask, realizing it would be a long walk back without them.
“Sure, they’ll stay close,” he says, taking out his sword.
I lay down the wineskin on a fallen tree branch from an ancient oak, and pull my sword from its sheath, swinging it around and feeling its weight. This is the first time I had swung the sword. It has a leather hilt with Celtic symbols along the blade, about the length of my arm. The sword’s pommel has a weighted ringlet that gives the blade some balance, and the guard is curved upward to keep an enemy’s sword from sliding down the blade and striking my hand. It isn’t heavy, but I can see getting blisters if I use it too long. I look at the palm of my right hand and see calluses, which should help.
I hold up the blade and show it to Aodhán. “What do these symbols mean?”
“Ah, the Celtic knot is for loyalty, and the spiral is for life, death, and rebirth.” Aodhán points out the same symbols on his sword.
“Sounds like a lot of thought went into the symbols.”
“These are the standard swords the military carries into battle. The symbols help.”
Aodhán gives me some basics of holding the sword and swinging it before we compete. I can see that Aodhán is taking it easy with me, making slow swings with his sword so I can keep up. The movements are becoming natural. I can predict the direction Aodhán is going with his blade and even make a few strikes on his shoulders with the flat of my blade.
“You seem to be remembering,” Aodhán says.
“I think it may be muscle memory, but it is feeling more natural.”
“That’s grand. Now, without killing each other, let’s have a go of it.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Let’s go full tilt, no holding back.” He raises his sword up to meet mine.
“Okay,” I say as I match his stance, meet his sword, and wait. My heart pumps faster as I feel the excitement of the challenge.
Aodhán lowers his blade and twists around to slash me from the side, which I easily block. He then repeats on the other side and strikes my shoulder with the flat of his blade. Memories start flooding back of earlier times with Aodhán.
“Wait,” I say, as memories flash before me. I walk over and pick up the wineskin, uncork it and take a long swig, then handing it to Aodhán while I try to grasp the memories. It is like waking up, holding on to the remnants of a dream before it fades. But these are becoming clearer.
Aodhán takes a swallow and hands the wineskin back to me. “Are you alright?”
“I think some memories are coming back.” I cork the wineskin and lay it back on the log.
“Ready to continue?”
“Now I am,” I say, starting to feel the depths of our friendship.
Aodhán keeps up the assault, only this time I can guess his moves and block them. He keeps up the attacks until I penetrate his defense and thrust my blade into his chest without piercing his leather tunic.
“That was a pure fluke!” Aodhán says. “Will you do that again?”
“Seems easy enough,” I say as I ready myself.
We continue our swordplay, not holding back. I see visions of myself playing with him as if remembering something, but it still feels like someone else’s memory. Sometimes he passes through my defense; other times I pass his. It seems like he is a good match for my skills, and I am becoming more familiar with him.
Then my mind drifts, and he knocks my sword out of my hands, with it hitting the ground.
“Shit!” I say, picking up my sword and wiping the dirt off the blade.
“You’re not too bad,” Aodhán says.
I wipe sweat from my forehead and hold up my sword. “Let’s go again.”
Aodhán swings his sword, lightly tapping my blade, then spins around and hits my blade with greater force, almost knocking it out of my hand, but I hold firm using both hands. The shock of it jolts my arms, but Aodhán lets go.
“Holy Saint Patrick!” he says, shaking his hands. “That was like hitting stone.”
I look at my sword and see another nick carved into the blade.
He picks up the sword and sees a large groove cut in his where it had hit mine. “My father’s going to kill me.”
“Aren’t these training swords?” I ask.
“That’s the only one I have.”
“I’ll get you a new one when we get back to town.”
“No, not that again! You’re my brother, not my caretaker.”
“Well, at least we can stop and see the blacksmith when we go back to town to see if he can repair it,” I say, trying to find a compromise.
“Sure, that will work.” He sheaths his sword.
“Let’s get something to eat.” I sheathe mine and pick up the wineskin.
“I could take a bite.”
I look around for my horse. “Do you see where they went?”
Aodhán points. “They wandered off behind them trees over yonder.”
I take a swig of wine, sharing it with Aodhán as we walk over to our horses. I find it odd that they are whinnying and hiding behind the trees.
Aodhán puts his arm up to stop me. “Something isn’t right.”
I stop. Something seems off. It is too quiet.
We pull out our blades as we approach the grove of trees. Then I hear a thud as an arrow penetrates the tree a few feet in front of us. I turn around and see that we are surrounded.