Midnight's Bride
By: Sophia Johnson
ISBN-10: 0-8217-8049-2
October 2007
Zebra historical
"A heart–stopping story wrapped in an enchanting, mythic legend."—Virginia Henley
Available at:
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PROLOGUE
Blackthorn Castle, Scotland, 1050.
Young Mereck of Blackthorn spied the old crone bent nearly double by an unsightly hump on her back. She shuffled on gnarled feet and crooked limbs up to the gates of Blackthorn Castle and demanded entrance. 'Twas a surprising voice for one so misshapen, for it soared above the clatter of the crowd and the din of carts and horses' hooves on stone.
"Aiyee. Me name is Beyahita. I come to tell the tale of the Baresarkers."
Hearing the misshapen ones words spread fearful shivers down Mereck's neck and back. Though he longed to run, he edged close. She haggled with Lady Neilson, who oft sought ways to lighten dreary winter nights with tellers of tales. The wizened old Beyahita was keener than the most aggressive story teller as she bargained for food and shelter. Each night she proposed to tell a tale about the Baresarkers of Welsh legends, men who became part beast, neither truly human nor fully animal, when enraged.
That moonless night, after everyone had supped in the great hall and the children were snug abed, Mereck stole from the room he shared with his half-brother Damron and his three cousins. His teeth clattered together, and he hugged his small cloak about him. As he edged along the shadows of the great hall, Beyahita began her first tale. Given her wizened appearance and quavering voice, her eloquence was surprising.
"A robust male child, aptly named Gruffyd, was born on the last day of June, in the year 943. The bairn took his first, hesitant breath when his mother sighed her last.
"'Twas soon found Gruffyd was as no other man. He could hear others' thoughts."
She paused, her piercing gaze seeking Mereck in the darkest corner of the smokey room. She gestured with claw-like hands. Her voice strengthened.
"Possessed of Lucifer's temper, he would become so enraged he knew not what he did. He foamed at the mouth and howled like an animal. Those who witnessed his rages named him Gruffyd the Baresarker, after the cults of Odin's horrific warriors.
"Gruffyd grew to be a man larger than most. He took as his bride a fragile maiden named Elgin. After childbirth, she became brainsick, for she babbled that Gruffyd had stolen her mind. She refused to eat. She shuddered when he drew near. Her loving husband despaired. One day, when Gruffyd placed the babe named Aeneas to Elgin's breast and turned aside, she shrieked and sprang from the bed. She raced to the top of the keep with the child. Her husband followed. When he reached her, she sought to hurl herself and their newborn son to the rocks below. Loving her mightily, Gruffyd strove to pull her back from the edge. With the strength of madness, she tore from his arms. He wrenched the babe from her grasp as she leapt to her death."
Mereck shuddered and pressed against the wall. All the hall's inhabitants leaned forward as her voice dropped low. "'Twas soon whispered that by stealing her thoughts, Gruffyd thieved Elgin's mind and left her crazed. Men who dared repeat the story vanished soon after they spoke of it." She stared around her. Her voice rose with each word. "When they found the missing men, they saw they had been foully murdered, their tongue and body parts severed as if by a ravening beast."
No one noticed Mereck, bastard son of Donald Morgan and a captured Welsh woman, Aeneid ap Tewdwr, hidden in the dark shadows. Nor did they note the crone's eyes gleam as her gaze fixed on him there. Mereck did.
Each night, she spoke of another cursed generation. After Guffyd, she told of Aeneas and Fallon, Gilbride and Lienid. Their wives all became brainsick and died after childbirth. Her gaze ferreted out Mereck, his body quivering with sick horror as he absorbed the tales.
One night as rushlights spluttered and died, she began her last tale.
"'Tis whispered on the wind that yet another son of Gruffyd's direct line was born the last day of June, in the year 1043, a century from Gruffyd's birth. This bairn was doomed to kill his mother in childbirth and is destined to destroy any woman he is so foolish to love." She cackled like one demented and pointed a skeletel finger at Mereck.
'Twas Mereck's name date. His mother that Beyahita spoke of. He buried his face in the heavy cloth of the tapestry. He did not want to be a Baresarker. He just wanted to be a boy. Like Damron, his half-brother, loved by a mother and a father.
He would never give his heart to a woman. Never love.
For now Mereck knew why his mother had died.
He had killed her.
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