Praying For Ansley

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The Pilot of Billings' Landing

The Pilot of Billings' Landing

by Alyson-Louise Belle

To read more stories by Alyson, go to her website :

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/

“The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” I met with an old schoolfriend of mine, by the name of Molly Pierson. I always believed Molly to be more beautiful than her blonde-headed, blue-eyed sisters. You see, they looked down upon Molly when she was a young woman, from the time that she was 8 years old, to when she was 19, when her remarkable story takes place. I say that, reader, but everyone has a remarkable story. Some simply are not aware of their story. Molly told me hers while we sat down for lunch the day I ran into her...

In 1941, many towns were small, and everyone knew everyone. This was the case in Shealeen, Michigan at the time. Socials were held regularly at the small diner downtown, and Molly Pierson's family went to all of them. Molly's three older sisters were always thrilled, but Molly always felt awkward. She knew everyone by name, but she did not make very many friends. Her closest friends were her mother, who was much like Molly, and her best friend, Nadalia Hartford, whom they called Naddie. So, she and her mother sat on the sofa in the parlor, waiting for Mr. Pierson and the three misses Pierson to get ready for the social at Billings' Landing, the diner downtown. They had been ready for forty-five minutes. The three misses Pierson, Ariel, Margaret, and Sarah, all powdered their already-rosy cheeks, and crowded around the mirror, fluffing their hair. Ever since the youngest Miss Pierson, Sarah, had turned fifteen, the rest of the Pierson girls had been in search of beaus. Molly was opposed to this. She didn't think going from beau to beau was proper, but to meet someone special and have him court her. If he was the right man, he would court her and they would fall in love and get married. Molly had had it planned since she was fourteen years old.

As Molly and Mrs. Pierson got out of the car at Billings' Landing, Molly glanced at her mother after seeing familiar faces in the window of the diner.

“I don't like the McCarthy boys,” she said softly. Mrs. Pierson glanced back at Molly.

“Well, darling, you've never even met the eldest. Peter, I believe his name is, Captain McCarthy.” she said. “He just arrived this day from an army camp in Holland.”

“He'll most likely be like the others,” Molly replied after a moment. “They're Irish, and hot-headed and ill-mannered.”

“Molly,”

“Can you deny it, Mother?” Molly looked at her mother. Mrs. Pierson sighed and they went inside. Molly found it awkward immediately. The McCarthy boys had already begun flirting with her sisters, and Molly headed straight for the counter, where she sat at the end of the counter and folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.

“You must be Molly Pierson.” Molly looked up and saw a young man sitting in the bar stool beside her. His hair was dark and combed to the side, and he wore a pin-striped suit with the jacket unbuttoned.

“Yes,” she replied. “And you are...?”

“My name's Grady,” the boy said. He appeared to be about seventeen, but he was about a head taller than Molly, and when he stood up, he towered over her. “Would you like to dance with me, Molly Pierson?”

Molly looked at the other dancers and then back at Grady. She automatically didn't like him. He didn't tell her his last name.

“No, thank you,” she said. Grady leaned down to eye-level with her.

“Aw, c'mon, Miss Pierson,” he said in a whining voice. “Please?” Molly shook her head, but Grady persisted.

“Can I get you something, Miss?” Molly heard an Irish voice and turned to see a waiter leaning on the counter and eying Grady. Grady examined the waiter, then walked away.

“I'd like a chocolate milkshake, please,” she said, grateful. The waiter nodded and turned around, beginning to make the shake. Molly watched him as he did so. He wore a newsboy hat and a white button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of Levi's blue jeans. He was tall and looked strong. His curly, honey-colored hair stuck out from his hat, and his skin was slightly bronzed by the sun. When he turned and gave Molly her shake, he looked into her eyes with dark amber-colored eyes.

“Here you go,” he said. He leaned on the counter briefly as she took the shake, and looked toward Grady.

“That's Grady Johnson,” the waiter said. “He just moved here.” He chuckled. “Well, I know that, and I just got here, too.” Molly nearly choked on her milkshake.

“You're him?” she exclaimed. The young man gave her a napkin for the bit of milkshake she had accidentally spilled on the counter. She wiped it up.

“Ah, Peter McCarthy,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it. “Am I him?”

“I'm sorry,” Molly said, laughing softly. “Yes. I just didn't expect you to be so different from your brothers.”

Peter chuckled.

“I was raised by my father,” he said. “That's the difference. You're Molly Pierson? Looks like you and I have a bit in common.” Molly frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we're both first-born, and we're both very different from our siblings,” he replied. Molly smiled and nodded, and it was silent for a moment.

“Pete!” Peter looked in the direction of the voice and then back at Molly.

“I gotta go,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it again. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Pierson.”

Molly gave him a smile and watched him as he went to the customer who needed him. Molly sighed and already missed her company.



Later that night, Molly lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mother slept in her bed, because Mr. Pierson often awoke late at night, and he didn't want her to be awoken, also.

“What is it, darling?” Molly glanced at her mother, who was lying on her side, watching Molly.

“How can Peter McCarthy be related to the other McCarthys?” she asked, ready to speak. “He's so genteel, and polite, and – and chivalrous! He's so unlike his brothers.”

“So,” Mrs. Pierson said, propping her head up with her hand.

“So, what?”

“So you like him?”

Molly looked at her mother.

“I don't know,” she said. “I don't really know him well.” Mrs. Pierson nodded slowly.

“You're smitten by him, though,” she implied. Molly blinked and furrowed her brow.

“Smitten, as in captivated by,” she replied. Mrs. Pierson changed positions.

“Molly,” she said. “You're my eldest daughter. You'll soon be twenty years old. You need to start thinking about marriage. You mustn't -”

“Mother, I'll begin thinking about marriage when the man I will someday marry courts me,” Molly said sternly. “Good night.” Mrs. Pierson raised her eyebrows.

“Alright, dear,” she said. “Good night.”





Michigan had always captivated Peter McCarthy. He had grown up there, since he was four years old. He had only enlisted in the army three years ago, when he turned twenty. His father was a pilot, and he would take Peter for rides, giving him lessons as Peter grew older. It was in a plane crash that Mr. McCarthy had died. He was serving in World War I, when airplanes were just beginning to be used. Seamus McCarthy was born in Ireland and raised in Michigan, as Peter was, and he loved America. He swore to fight for the United States whenever a war was declared. When Mr. McCarthy died, Peter vowed to complete his father's vow, and he enlisted in the U.S. Army, as a pilot. So, he was shipped off to Holland, where he spent two years as a pilot, while acting as a sort of spy for the Allies. He would fraternize with the Nazis in secret, and learn information that no one would otherwise know. So, when a Nazi had begun to become suspicious of Peter, his captain requested that he spend the summer in the States.

Now Captain McCarthy sat in his old childhood hideout, a small grotto within a cave on the shore of Lake Michigan. He pondered Miss Molly Pierson. She was very different from her sisters; they were all flirtatious and coquettish, and she was very private and introverted. It was like Molly wasn't even related to the three mischievous girls who flirted with Peter's brothers. Peter could almost hear his father's voice in his head. Attachments and affections are not good for a soldier, Pete. You'll make one, and then you could be torn from it if something happens at war. Mr. McCarthy had told him this when he was sixteen, when Peter's dog had died in a run-in with a coyote. It had been how Peter had lived since his father told him that. Yes, he had had affections before, but they had all thought of him as nothing more than a passing fancy.

The sound of the waves running up the cave's entrance told Peter it was time to go. He had learned the hard way when he was seven to leave the cave before the tide comes in. So Captain McCarthy made his way out of the cave, the moonlight reflecting on the water.





“Mother! Mother!” Molly sat up in bed and saw Sarah run into the bedroom. Mrs. Pierson popped her head up over the blankets.

“What, Sarah?” she asked sleepily. Sarah hopped onto the bed and Molly frowned angrily, diving back under her covers.

“The McCarthys are coming today,” Sarah said. Both Molly and Mrs. Pierson sat up.

“All of them?” Molly asked. Sarah nodded.

“Even your Captain McCarthy,” she said, smiling wryly. Molly furrowed her brow disapprovingly.

“Oh, you,” she said as she got out of bed and went to her dresser, pulling out some clothes. “I only asked because I don't like them.” Molly headed to the powder room to get dressed. When she had her white blouse and floral skirt on, she looked in the mirror at herself. Her dark brown curls were still messy from bed, but she grabbed her brush and made them smooth again. She put a barrette in her hair, pulling it off her face, and put on her mother's red lipstick. She then went back into the bedroom and slipped her feet into a pair of pumps. When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, Margaret stared at Molly.

“Molly, you look beautiful,” she remarked. This was what Molly hoped would not happen. The other girls and Mr. Pierson began questioning Molly. Why are so prettied up? Who are you seeing today? Where did you get that blouse? Molly looked at her mother desperately, and Mrs. Pierson spoke over the questions.

“Breakfast is on the table, my darlings,” she said. Molly gave her mother a grateful smile, then sat at the table to eat.



Peter lie asleep in bed when there was loud knocking on his door. He sat up briefly, startled, then realizing that it was only his brothers, he flopped back down and covered his head with the blanket. Finally, Henry, the second eldest of the McCarthy boys, entered the room and opened the curtains, letting in light that Peter currently thought annoying, because he was still tired.

“What?” Peter asked, irritated.

“Top o' the morning to you!” Henry said, grinning at his brother. “We have some young ladies to call on.” Peter sat up.

“Who?” he asked, getting out of bed and grabbing a shirt from his dresser. He pulled his white t-shirt off and put on the button-down one as Henry spoke.

“The Piersones,” he said. “Ariel, and Margaret, and Sarah.”

“And Molly,” Peter added. “Right?” Henry's grin faded.

“Yeah,” he said. “And Molly.” Peter blinked and realized it was Friday, and he had to work.

“I can't go,” he said, putting his hat on. “I'm one of two working at the diner today.” Henry followed him down the stairs to the front door, trying to convince him to come, but to no avail.



“Why couldn't Captain McCarthy come?” Molly piped in the conversation softly. Her sisters greeted the McCarthy boys and Molly stood a bit back.

“Who, Pete?” Bill, the youngest asked. Molly nodded and Bill said, “Oh, he had to work. We tried to get him to come, but he said there were only two people working at the diner today, and he was one. He mentioned you, you know.”

“Charming,” Molly said, slightly sardonically. She was about to go upstairs, when Naddie burst in the front door.

“Molly, come quick,” she said. “I have something to tell you.” Mrs. Pierson looked at Naddie.

“Is anything wrong, dear?” she asked. Naddie looked at Mrs. Pierson.

“Molly and I can handle it, thank you, Miss Tilly,” Naddie replied. Molly grabbed her sunhat and followed Naddie out the front door. Molly laughed.

“Thank goodness you came!” she exclaimed. “You saved me from a morning of boredom.” They began walking down the street and Naddie didn't reply to Molly.

“Naddie, what is it?” Molly asked, knowing something was wrong. Naddie looked at Molly and her eyes filled with tears.

“Molly, I don't know why I did it,” Naddie started. “I wanted to be like you, but I - ”

“What, Naddie?” Molly asked, taking her friend's hand. Naddie's voice was choked with tears.

“I'm gonna have a baby,” she said finally. “In October.” Molly's heart melted for Naddie, and she took her in her arms, holding her close.

“Oh, Naddie,” she said. Naddie sobbed into Molly's shirt, and after a moment, she pulled away.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have to help my mother with the store. Please don't tell anyone.” Molly chuckled and stroked Naddie's ash blonde hair.

“Someone will find out, eventually, darling,” she said. Naddie nodded and wiped her eyes.

“Still,” she said. Molly nodded and Naddie hurried off. Molly had nowhere to go, now. If she went home, she would have to endure the McCarthy boys. The diner was only a few blocks away. She decided to go there.

When Molly entered the diner, it didn't occur to her that Captain McCarthy would be working there, at the counter. She looked around for somewhere to sit, and her eyes met Peter's, and she blinked in surprise. She looked away quickly and went to sit at a table by the wall. A waitress came out and asked for Molly's order, and she ordered a cup of tea. As she sat, waiting, she knew Captain McCarthy was watching her. She swallowed and forced herself not to turn around. The bell above the door chimed, and in walked Grady Johnson, and two other young men his age. Molly closed her eyes and sighed, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

“Well, well, well,” Grady's voice rang out, drawing attention to himself. “If it isn't Miss Molly Pierson.” This brought attention to Molly. She gave Grady a small smile.

“How are you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked softly when he went to her table and leaned his hands on it.

“I'm just fine, and you are too,” he said in a sing-song voice. His companions laughed and Molly bit her lip. The waitress came out with Molly's tea and Grady and his friends moved out of the way briefly. When the waitress was gone, Grady sat in the chair beside Molly and put his arm on the back of her chair. She stood up abruptly, and to her surprise, Captain McCarthy was standing near her table with a towel, drying his hands.

“Grady Johnson,” Peter said, looking Grady in the eye when he stood. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you keep causing trouble.”

“What trouble am I causing?” Grady asked defensively. “I'm just over here talking to a young lady.”

“You're a nuisance to Miss Pierson,” replied Peter. Grady glanced at Molly, then looked back at Peter.

“You better watch your back, army boy,” Grady said as he left the diner. Molly swallowed and sat back down, looking at Peter. He gave her a slight nod and then walked away. She blinked, then turned around

“Captain,” she said. Peter turned to look at her. “Would you like to sit with me for a moment?” Peter looked at his wristwatch.

“I'll be off in fifteen minutes,” he said. “I'll take you somewhere.” Molly hesitated for a moment, then nodded.



Molly drank her tea slowly, so she would be finished when Captain McCarthy finished work. Soon, he came over to her and she stood up. Peter opened the door for Molly, which was something that stood out to her. They walked down the street, speaking to one another about this and that, and then they came to the lake. Molly laughed as Peter made his way over the rocks, helping her as he went. Finally, they came to a cave, and Peter went inside. Molly looked around and followed Peter into the grotto.

“I used to come here when I was upset,” Peter said. “Besides yesterday, I hadn't been here in years.”

“Were you upset often, Captain McCarthy?” Molly asked. Peter shrugged.

“Call me Peter. And, mostly about something small,” he said. “Last time I came, I was seventeen, and my da had just spoken to me about being a soldier and leaving your heart at home. I thought I didn't agree, but now I do.”

“You think you shouldn't become attached to someone just because you're a soldier?” Molly asked, slightly shocked. Peter looked at her.

“Well, I certainly wouldn't want to break a lass's heart because I died overseas,” he said. “She couldn't live without wondering if our last goodbye would be the next day.”

“I think,” Molly started carefully, “having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love. You don't agree with that?” Peter blinked.

“I think the opinion of one is less convincing than the opinion of many,” he said. Molly spoke quickly.

“So, your family agrees.”

“Yes.”

“I think they're holding you back, Captain.” Molly spoke without thinking and it was silent for a moment. Molly felt her cheeks grow warm. “Am I turning red?”

Peter laughed and looked away briefly, fingering the sand.

“No, you're fine,” he said. “How can you know so much about such things? I thought you were against it.”

“My sisters have had plenty of heart-breaks,” Molly said. “And I'm not against true love, by any means. I simply believe that if you have found the one you will someday marry, God will bring your paths together . . . and you'll fall in love, and live happily ever after.” Peter blinked again.

“I don't believe in happily ever after,” he said.

“Why not?” Molly asked.

“Because I'm a soldier,” Peter snapped back. “One of my best friends formed a strong attachment to some girl he barely knew, and now he's sick in London and she's pregnant here.” Molly swallowed and picked up her hat from the ground, ready to leave. Peter stood as Molly did. “Miss Pierson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bark at you like that.” Molly looked at him for a moment, put her hat on her head, and made her way to the cave's entrance. Her pumps were not made for walking in the sand, and she struggled, so, finally, she removed her shoes and walked barefoot the rest of the way home. The wind and ocean spray had made Molly look a bit disheveled, so when she walked into her house, her sisters and parents looked at her in shock.

“Where have you been, Molly?” asked Mrs. Pierson, standing from the sofa.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” Molly replied, not looking back as she went up the stairs. She hoped no one would follow. She went to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, throwing her shoes in a corner and wiping her lipstick on her blanket as she threw herself onto the bed. After a moment of pouting, the door opened and Mrs. Pierson walked in.

“Darling, what happened?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside Molly. Molly didn't look at her mother, and she kept her face nearly buried in her pillow.

“Captain McCarthy is not as agreeable as I thought him to be,” she muttered. “In fact, he's very un-agreeable.”

“Un-agreeable, Molly?”

Molly sat up and looked out the window, her bangs falling into her eyes.

“But see?” she said. “He makes it to where I can't speak intelligently.”

“What happened?” Mrs. Pierson asked softly, patting her daughter's shoulder. Molly told her mother about the diner, and the grotto, and her conversation with Peter.

“And, to top off my worries,” Molly said, “I think the girl he talked about is Naddie.” Mrs. Pierson closed her eyes and brought a hand to her breast.

“Oh my,” she said. “The poor girl. How long has she been pregnant?”

“She's due in October,” Molly said. “Her parents will find out and likely disinherit her or worse.” Mrs. Pierson shook her head slowly.

“What a situation to be in,” she said. “And at her age? Why, she's only a year younger than you are.”

“Let's not talk about it any longer, Mother,” Molly pleaded. “I need a nap.” Mrs. Pierson nodded and stood to leave. Just as she was about to close the door behind her, Mrs. Pierson glanced over her shoulder at Molly.

“Darling, you're in love,” she said. Molly flopped her head into her pillow and called, her voice muffled, “No, I'm not!”



The wind whistled by Peter's ears. For a summer evening, it was slightly chilly. The whistling grew louder, and suddenly, a plane swooped down from above. Peter had to duck so it wouldn't hit him. In the distance, he saw another plane, sitting on the beach with no pilot. So he hurried over and climbed inside, starting the plane and taking off. He looked up from the controls and saw the other plane coming toward him. Peter tried to turn his plane, but the controls were jammed. He looked up again and saw the pilot's bloodthirsty face just before the collision.

Peter bolted awake in bed, beads of sweat on his forehead and chest. He had had a nightmare. A very real nightmare. He took a deep breath and stood, walking to the dresser and turning a lamp on. He looked at his bedraggled hair and ran his fingers through it. He looked out the window and saw the entrance to the cave, now filling with water, and he couldn't help pondering what Molly Pierson had said. “...having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love.” Peter shook his head slightly. He was willing enough to fight for his country. A family would be too much to worry about. Still, he thought, he was nearly twenty four years old, and many young men his age were already married with a young child or two. Peter swallowed and got back into bed, closing his eyes, but not sleeping.



Molly awoke late the next morning. Her family had gone to town for breakfast, said a note left by her mother. Molly was at home alone, and it was relieving to be in a quiet house. She made a cup of tea and went to sit on the back porch, where she could see the lake. Breathing in, she closed her eyes, and she opened them as she exhaled. Captain McCarthy was very firm in his opinions. Her thoughts drifted to the captain, but she tried not to think about him. She was trying to keep herself peaceful, and she knew that she would only fret over unnecessary things if she thought about the captain. She thought about what her mother had said the previous night. You're nearly twenty years old. You should start thinking about marriage. It pained Molly to think about it. What if she wasn't a good wife? Or, if she had children, what if she wasn't a good mother? And what if the man she married wasn't a good husband or father? These thoughts had never occurred to Molly, and they frightened her. She tried to be calmed by the sound of the waves against the rocks, but she had a sudden headache. The sky was cloudy, and it looked as if it were going to rain. Molly thought a walk would do her good, and she went directly to the beach, without changing from her pajamas. The beach had always made Molly feel better, and it worked now. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as a breeze blew past her. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Do you always come out here in your nightclothes?” Molly opened her eyes and turned around. Peter stood there, with his hands in his pockets, and he wasn't wearing his hat, so his curly honey-colored hair blew in the wind.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked. Peter looked at her as if she had asked if the sky was blue.

“Same thing you're doing,” he said. “I live just down the street, you know.” Molly furrowed her brow.

“No. I didn't know,” she said. “If you don't mind, I came out here to be away from the chaos of the world.” Peter reached out and touched Molly's shoulder as she turned to keep walking.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry if I upset you yesterday,” he said. “I don't want you to dislike me.” Molly sighed and told him the truth.

“Captain, it's not that I dislike you,” she said. “We just don't have the same opinions on some things. I do suppose I shouldn't have walked away like I did. It was rude. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

Peter held out his hand to shake. “Truce, then?”

Molly laughed and shook his hand. “Truce,” she said, smiling. It seemed that both Peter and Molly were reluctant to let go of their hands. Molly felt her heart beat quicker, and her legs grew weak. She put her hand by her side and smiled at Peter.

“So,” she said. “Regarding your first question, no, I do not often come here in my nightclothes.” They both laughed and began walking down the beach.

“Were you very upset with me?” Peter asked after a moment's silence. “After you left, I mean.” Molly sighed and shrugged.

“I admit, I was pretty upset,” she said. “To put it simply, I stomped up the stairs when I got home, which is something I haven't done since my temper tantrums when I was young.” She laughed and looked at Peter. He wasn't smiling.

“It does grieve me to know you were upset because of me,” he said. Molly blinked and he continued. “You're a very sweet woman. I am sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me.”

Molly felt for Peter, and she touched his hand briefly, before pulling hers away from nervousness.

“I forgave you when I walked out of the cave, Captain,” she said, looking into his eyes respectfully. “And I do like you, very much. You're very enjoyable to be around.” Peter smiled, to Molly's relief.

“Thank you,” he said. Molly nodded, smiling. It was silent for a moment as they walked and then, simultaneously, they said, “I've been thinking about what you – ”

They laughed and Molly let Peter speak.

“I've been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he said. “And, much to my dismay, I'm beginning to agree with you.” Molly began to cut in, but he kept speaking. “My father was killed fighting for not only his country, but his family also. He and his brother, both, side by side. I'm nearly twenty-four years old. My father was married when he was twenty-one.”

“Oh, Captain McCarthy,” Molly said, chuckling. “I've been thinking about what you said. If I were married to a soldier, or in love with one, for that matter, I would rather not be married or in love with him while he's away, because I wouldn't want anything to happen to him.” Without realizing it, they stopped, and looked at one another. “And,” Molly continued, “like you said, I couldn't live without knowing if tonight would be the last time I was with him. I couldn't live like that.”

“Don't you think,” Peter said, “that to be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye?” Molly swallowed and looked away briefly before looking back at Peter and nodding.

“I suppose so,” she said. They looked into the eyes of one another for what seemed like forever. Peter started to lean down, and Molly lifted her face slightly, but just as their noses touched, Molly backed away abruptly. Peter sighed softly and a few raindrops began to fall. Peter and Molly didn't look at each other for a minute, and suddenly yelling came from behind.

“Molly!” The shrieks of Margaret could be heard easily as the rain poured out of the sky. It wasn't long before they were soaked. Molly glanced at Peter as she turned to look at her sister. Molly ran to meet her. Margaret was sobbing, and her screams were heart-breaking.

“Molly, something happened to Mother,” Margaret managed. Molly grabbed her sister's shoulders.

“What? What happened to her? Where's Father?” she said, speaking firmly.

“I don't know!” Margaret shrieked. “She just collapsed on the stairs, and Father left early this morning for some business trip. He didn't tell us where he was going, just that he would be back next Saturday.” Despite the weakness of Molly's legs and the sinking in her heart, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, back to the house and inside, where Ariel and Sarah had moved their mother to the sofa. Molly rushed over to her mother and grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse. A very slight throbbing came from Mrs. Pierson's wrist, but it was slowing.

“Ariel, call the doctor and tell him to come right away,” Molly said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“But – ” Ariel started through choked sobs.

“Now!” Molly shouted. Molly kept a hold of her mother's hand and rubbed it. Suddenly, Peter was by Molly's side, with his hand on her shoulder. They were both praying at the same time, but in their heads, not knowing they were both pleading for Mrs. Pierson's health.











































Tilly Pierson's funeral was the following Sunday. Molly wore a black dress with a veil on her hat, and Peter was by her side as she knelt by her mother's casket when the ceremony was over. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hold in her sobs, and with the other, she put it on Peter's hand, which was comfortingly on her shoulder.

Later that day, Molly couldn't contain herself, and she ran all the way from her house to Peter's grotto a few blocks down the beach. There, she wept heavily, until she was lying on the sand, and nearly screaming. Finally, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She sat up and leaned on the wall of the grotto. When she opened her eyes, Peter was standing at the entrance of the grotto.

“I'm fine,” Molly said, turning away from him and trying to hide that she had been crying. Peter took that as a “welcome, come in,” and he sat beside Molly.

“I thought you would be here,” he said. Molly wiped her eyes and looked at him.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked. Peter chuckled.

“It's not my cave,” he said. It was silent for a moment, and then Molly broke down again. She leaned on Peter's shoulder, and he stroked her hair softly.

“I'm not fine,” Molly said as she cried. “My mother was my best friend. We talked about anything together. We talked about you, once. How can I live without her? She was my comfort, and my support. We were like one soul in two bodies.” She paused and sat up, wiping her eyes. “And now I'm being a baby and sobbing like a child.” Peter frowned.

“Crying doesn't make you weak,” he said. “I've found that some of my weakest points were when I didn't cry. Crying doesn't make you a child.” Molly sighed and leaned her head on Peter's shoulder again.

“How can you know me so well?” she asked. “You seem to know all the right things to say to me to make me feel a certain way.” Peter laughed.

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked. Molly chuckled, and Peter was proud that he had made her smile.

“Well, I mean, you know what makes me happy, and what makes me sad, and what makes me angry,” she said. Peter looked at her as she spoke. “You know what to say to make me feel . . . treasured.”

“I'm glad I do,” he said. Molly gave him a small smile and he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the tears from Molly's cheeks. She rested her head on his tear-stained shoulder, closing her eyes and taking in the smell of his shirt. Before she could help it, she fell asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep.



Peter sat on the sofa in his house, reading a novel. He was the only one home, but Molly was asleep in his bed. However, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and he watched Molly come to the living room.

“What will the neighbors think of us?” Peter said teasingly. “The tide was coming in, and you stayed asleep the entire time I carried you here.” Molly laughed and got her shawl from the coat rack by the door.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Peter looked at her and gave her a smile, and she left. It was almost dark, and the streetlights came on. Molly walked down the street and just as she was about to turn into her driveway, she heard a loud talking. She turned and across the street, she saw a young woman, surrounded by men. In the dim light of the streetlights, Molly could see Naddie's little bump of a stomach, and her light blonde hair. Molly could also see that Grady Johnson was one of the men. Molly started across the street.

“Hey!” she yelled. Naddie looked at her, and so did the men. There were four in all. Molly found herself face-to-face with Grady.

“What do you want?” he said, pushing Molly by the shoulder. Molly looked Grady in the eye.

“What do you think you're doing with her?” Molly asked sternly.

“Girls like her don't deserve to live,” Grady replied. “I can only assume you know about her situation.” Molly looked at Naddie.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “What, do you plan to beat her to death? That would be murder, and that's just as corrupt as immorality. Both sins deserve death, Mr. Johnson, but you are not the one to deal out the fates of others.” Grady lifted his fist and was about to bring it down onto Molly, but Naddie pushed past the other men and jumped onto Grady's back, grabbing his fist. Naddie screamed as Grady threw her into the street, and she lie still there on the concrete. Molly looked at Grady.

“You monster!” she shouted. “How could you?” Grady was about to hit Molly, but suddenly a gunshot rung out from behind. Grady looked, and Molly ran to Naddie. An old man stood on his porch, holding a gun.

“This gun is loaded,” the man said to Grady. A bird fell from the sky, having been shot by the man, and he continued. “If I can shoot one bird in the dark without looking, I can shoot all four of you, young men. So, I suggest you run along. My wife just called the police.” Grady glared at the old man for a moment, then began walking down the street, his companions following. When they were gone, the old man hurried down to Molly and Naddie. He lifted Naddie from the ground as if she were a feather, and Molly followed him inside.

“She's only unconscious, but the baby could be hurt,” the old man said. He lay her gently on the sofa, and the man's wife came in.

“I called the doctor, and he's coming to get her, to take her to the hospital. She and the baby can be monitored there,” the woman said. Molly closed her eyes and sat by Naddie's side.

“Oh, God, keep the baby safe,” Molly whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took Naddie's hand in her own and prayed for the forgiveness of Grady Johnson. He was still a creation of God, after all. Molly brought Naddie's hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. The old man and woman knelt beside Molly and prayed with her for Naddie. Molly couldn't bear losing her best friend and her mother in the same week.



Molly did not sleep well that night. Naddie was fine, and so far, the baby was, as well. They had been taken to the hospital in Detroit, and they were to stay there until the doctors were sure the baby was all right. Molly had told the doctor Naddie was widowed, not wishing to ruin any chance of them helping her. She lay in bed, wondering why God had blessed her with Peter. He had been there in her trouble, every time. He drove her to the doctor's office where Naddie was taken, and he sat with her while they waited. It was now nearly one in the morning, and Molly couldn't sleep. She decided it then. Peter was the one. He was so perfectly imperfect in every way. He understood Molly better than she understood herself. He felt her sorrow and her joy, and her anger. They were like one soul in two bodies, Molly told herself.



The next morning, Molly immediately got dressed and went to Peter's home. She knocked on the door, and Mrs. McCarthy answered.

“Why, Peter left just a half an hour ago,” the woman said when Molly asked for Peter. Molly furrowed her brow.

“Where could he have gone?” she asked. Mrs. McCarthy frowned.

“He didn't tell you? He got a call yesterday morning. He has to go back to the Netherlands this very morning,” she said. “He should still be waiting for the bus at the diner. He's not scheduled to leave till...” Mrs. McCarthy checked her watch “...well, ten minutes.” That was all Molly needed to hear. She turned and climbed into her car, driving in the direction of Billings' Landing. When she got there, she parked and got out, walking briskly inside. She went to the counter and looked at the man at the register.

“I'm looking for Captain Peter McCarthy,” she said, speaking quickly. The man pointed out the window. Molly turned and saw Peter about to get on the bus. She put her handbag on the counter and ran out the front door.

“Captain!” she called. Peter turned and looked just as he put his foot up to get in the bus. He looked at Molly.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” he said. “It wasn't certain that I had to go till this morning. They need me back in the air sooner than they thought.” Molly was breathing heavily from running.

“Peter, I don't care. I have something to tell you,” she said. Peter looked at her and the bus driver yelled down at them, “You two have three minutes.”

“Speak quickly, Miss Pierson,” Peter said. Molly swallowed.

“Captain, I don't know how to say it,” she said. She laughed in ridicule at herself. Peter looked into her eyes and put his hands on her shoulders.

“What, Molly?” he said. Molly swallowed again and laughed.

“Peter, I love you,” she said, spitting it out. “I've loved you since the day you arrived here, and I hope you love me back.” Peter laughed.

“Yes,” he said calmly. Molly blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“I love you, Molly,” he said. “I want to marry you. But right now isn't the time for that. I'll be back soon, and then we can discuss it further.” Molly couldn't help laughing, and Peter took her hands and kissed her on the mouth.

“Good bye, Molly,” he said. Then he turned and boarded the bus, and it drove away. Molly stood there, her mouth open slightly, her hands still in the air where Peter had held them. She brought her hand to her mouth and touched where Peter had kissed her. Had she really just told him she loved him? Just like that? She had, and she was surprised, and relieved. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew she wouldn't be able to convince anyone but Naddie that all this had happened, so she decided to keep it a secret.



Molly and Peter sent letters back and forth to one another for the next few months. The last one received said this:

Dear Molly,

I'm doing fine. However, I have a job in which I won't be able to write for a while. I will write letters, but they won't be able to be sent until I'm back on Ally territory.

The letter went on to tell what Peter had been doing, and it was signed, “Love, Peter”.

Molly moved out and got her own house, and Naddie moved in with her after her father kicked her out. Naddie was fine, but the baby was said to likely be deformed in some way. The days began growing chilly, and Naddie's time grew closer and closer. Molly noticed Naddie had frequent pains, and one night, Molly awoke to her friend's screaming. She hurried to Naddie's room and prepared for the delivery. She called Mrs. McCarthy and Ariel, who had already agreed to assist the birth.

The birth of a child is a miracle. That has already been said. But the birth of a healthy child who was not expected to be healthy is an even greater miracle. Naddie named the boy David, and he kept Naddie's surname. Naddie was weakened by the birth, as the doctor said she would probably be. She couldn't nurse the child, and Molly stayed up feeding him from a bottle while Naddie slept. She had begun to have fevers frequently, and Mrs. McCarthy stayed at Molly's house and treated Naddie as a daughter.

One night, while the baby was sleeping, Molly went into Naddie's room and found her friend wheezing. Molly was about to turn to call the doctor, but Naddie called after her.

“Molly, dear,” she said. “There's nothing more anyone can do for me.” Molly frowned and her eyes were blurred with tears.

“No, don't say things like that,” she said, blinking. “I'll call the doctor and he'll come and take care of you.” Naddie shook her head, and Molly accepted it. She sat by her friend's side and held her hand. Nadalia Hartford's last breath was peaceful.



Molly Pierson lay on the sofa, wearing her house robe, just having got out of the bath. Baby David was asleep, and it was the first time Molly had had peace in a long time. There was a knock at the door. Molly stood and went to open it. A woman stood there, holding a parcel and a letter.

“Are you Molly McCarthy?” the woman asked. Molly chuckled and knew it was from Peter.

“Not yet,” she said, taking the things. “Thank you.” She gave the woman a dollar and went to the table. She opened the parcel first, and found several letters, seemingly worn, all addressed to her. She set them aside to read later, and then she looked in the bottom of the package and found Peter's newsboy hat. She furrowed her brow and held it for a moment, then set it down and hesitated to read the letter, which was not Peter's handwriting. But she ripped open the envelope and took the letter out.

Dear Miss Pierson, it read, I was told that this letter should be sent to you, as you were soon to be married to Captain Peter McCarthy. I'm sorry to be the one to write this, and it hurts me to know there's a young lady waiting for her soldier to come home. But, Captain McCarthy went missing two weeks prior to this letter, on November 12. We were co-pilots, and our plane lost control. I escaped and jumped out, using my parachute. We were flying above the ocean, you see, the English Channel. The water was freezing, and one of our naval ships soon found me. But no one found Captain McCarthy. We don't know whether he's alive or not, but don't count on it. Peter was my best friend, and he stayed with me till the end. I'm sorry.

Sincerely,

Lieutenant Jacob Finch

Molly's hands were shaking, and she closed her eyes, her heart sinking. She reached out and touched Peter's hat, squeezing it. She was about to break down, but there was a knock on the door again. Molly took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, then went to open it. Mrs. McCarthy stood there, holding a letter and staring at Molly. They both felt the same loss. They embraced one another and sobbed, right there on the porch.

Molly hired a nanny to take care of David, because she was going to try to find work, but the morning of her first day at Billings' Landing, she couldn't get out of bed. How could she work where she had met Peter? She lay there, staring out the window at the gray sky, not crying or speaking.



Those were several hard weeks for Molly, and she never got over the pain. But she lived on, taking care of David as her own son, and she began to wear her bangs to the side, which was something she had never done. She grew into a beautiful woman, more mature and wise than ever. She made new friends among the people of Shealeen, Michigan, and soon she attended the socials as her family did. David learned to walk quickly, and to speak even quicker. You think our story is through? You think, “What?! How could Peter be dead? Molly can't live without Peter!” And you're right, Readers. Every day was torture for Molly, because she had to hide the pain of remembering her and Peter's last goodbye at Billings' Landing. She remembered the day her mother died, and she went to Peter's grotto, where he comforted her, and she realized that she loved him. She spent her nights crying herself to sleep, wishing Peter were by her side when she awoke the next morning. She was tormented by the loss. But our story is not finished. Molly's story is not yet finished.

1945

World War II is over.

Molly Pierson was now twenty five years of age. David was four years old, and he went to a daycare center each day where he made new friends. Molly had not forgotten Captain Peter McCarthy. Every morning, she would look out the front window, just to be disappointed that no car pulled into the driveway. She kept Peter's hat by her pillow each night as she slept.

One morning, the sun came up and it was a warm day. David went to daycare, and Molly sat on the sofa, knitting. She heard a car engine and went to look out the window. Mrs. McCarthy, who had stayed a faithful friend to Molly, got out of her car, and Molly met her on the porch. They hugged one another, and Molly smiled.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked, noticing Mrs. McCarthy's grin. Mrs. McCarthy's eyes filled with tears and Molly took her hand.

“Oh, Molly, you won't believe it,” the woman said. She glanced at the car, and as she did, a foot stepped out. Then a body. Then a head of curly, honey-colored hair. Molly met his eyes, and she let go of Mrs. McCarthy's hands, moving past her and going down the front porch steps. She couldn't feel her legs, and she felt like she was gliding. She and Peter looked at one another for a moment, then Molly slowly wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Peter returned Molly's hug, and he kissed the top of her head. Mrs. McCarthy went inside the house.
       “They told me you were dead,” Molly said softly into Peter's shirt.
       “I was a prisoner for four years,” he replied. “An old woman came to my cell and told me you were here waiting for me. She was strange, with long white hair and a silver gown. She told me you have been waiting for me, and then she opened the door to my cell and I escaped. I'm sorry you had to go through so much.” And those were the only words spoken.


Molly and Peter were married the following Sunday. Molly nearly gushed every time someone called her “Mrs. McCarthy.” They adopted David, and after he was seven years old, Molly and Peter had three children of their own, Nadalia – Naddie, Tilly, and Seamus. You see, Reader, Molly Pierson – excuse me, Molly McCarthy – told me her story, not because she thought it was significant, but because she loved to tell it. She knew it made others feel good. There are a few lessons in this story. The first, I mentioned earlier. “The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” Molly McCarthy herself said that. Another was said by Captain Peter McCarthy: To be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye. Captain McCarthy worked at Billings' Landing until they made him retire. Molly was a housekeeper after the children grew up and moved away. Among their four children, the McCarthys had six grandchildren. Naddie moved to Key West, Florida, where she met a young man who believed in non-violence and peace, and her remarkable story took place. But, that's a different story altogether. Thus, the story of the pilot of Billings' Landing is ended.

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/

Home

Home

By Amy Hollis Taylor, as seen on her blog, ~Amy~

 

 The tree felt a snag. He heard a plunk. Another apple, fallen. The tree heaved and bellowed his daily grief, "Will no one pick my apples?" It was high time to be harvested, but, as it had been with the last twenty years, he and his fellow trees had been neglected. The tree sighed and settled in for another day of painfully watching his babies fall, smash, and bruise.

 

Far away in New York City, a man longed for his apple orchard. Twenty years ago, what was called the Great Depression had started, and now the world was at war for the second time in the century. Twenty years ago, the man had been a boy. His family had been forced to leave their orchard after a fire had ruined the year's harvest. Now the boy was grown and knew that he could leave for his one true home...except, he had a job. What with his bad eyesight, he had been unable to join the army, couldn't stand to work in a factory. So, he ran the mercantile. People conveyed all kinds of gossip through his store. He hated it. He longed for the quiet and the trees. The answer to his predicament came in the form of a young man, looking for work. After a thorough interview, the man, Mr. Hompkins, had the job of owner and manager of the new Hompkins Mercantile. Within a week the man was ready to leave New York forever. He packed up his truck and set off for his trees.

The tree felt something, not a snag, for sure, something as gentle as a breeze. The Boy was coming home.

Twenty years later, the man and his son were climbing the ladders and picking the apples for the annual harvest. The man approached the tree. With a contented sigh, the tree relaxed and enjoyed the rhythmical pull of the man's hands.

The man sighed also sighed as he taught his son to twist the apples. He walked toward his favorite tree and climbed up the ladder. He was home. 

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The Knight of Nottingshire

The Knight of Nottingshire

By Alyson-Louise Belle

 "Come on, then, Maggie. You had better be glad we let you come, since you're a lady. You could at least keep up." Magdalena frowned at Edric, and Will laughed at her. The girl, seven years old and small, struggled to stay on the big horse her wealthy father had bought her. She had named him Cherry because of his reddish-tinted coat. The young boys, brothers, nine and ten, were already exceptional on horseback, because they were both pages, training to be knights. Finally, Maggie caught up with Will, who waited for her while Edric continued on through a wood in Nottinghamshire.

     "I wish I were a lad," Maggie pouted. Will, the younger of the boys, laughed.

     "Why?" he asked. Maggie adjusted the skirt of her one piece dress.

     "I hate wearing dresses," she started, "as much as I hate not being able to ride with you." Will's smile softened and they began to trot.

     "I think you'll make a great and beautiful lady one day," he said. Maggie looked at him for a moment, then they both began to laugh. They both caught up to Edric and the three continued on. Finally, they reached their destination. Will and Edric looked up into the oak tree and Maggie gasped. The boys had built a house in the tree. A tree house, Maggie thought. The boys immediately dismounted their horses and tied them to one of the smaller trees, and Maggie tried to follow. Her dress got caught on a thornbush, however, and it ripped. She frowned, frustrated, and she simply tore the dress up to her knee. Will and Edric laughed at her as she began to climb up the tree in her bloomers. 

     Nineteen year old Maggie came out of her recollection. She was in the north tower, as she often was. She heard her name being called, otherwise she wouldn't have come out of her memory. It had been four years since she had seen either Will or Edric. They were men now, her mother had told Maggie before the woman died. They had men's duties to complete in the war. Maggie had heard people speak of the Holy Wars, but she never liked to think of Will and Edric in the Holy Lands where they could be killed by the Islamic soldiers. Maggie finally sighed and left the tower. She had always lived in this citadel, as her father was Lord Porfirio du Pree, who was a French duke. Maggie inherited her dark blue eyes from her father, as well as her tall and limber body. Maggie's mother, the Baroness Gwendolyn of Lancashire, died when Maggie was thirteen, shortly after Will and Edric went to the Holy Lands. Maggie inherited her beautiful long blond waves from her mother. Maggie had, in fact, become the great and beautiful lady Will predicted she would become, although she was humble and caring, looking after small orphans who lived in the village just south of the citadel. She also payed the servants secretly, although she knew if her father found out, he would not be pleased. Maggie stepped into the darknessof the night. The moon light was the only light she walked by, and as she turned a corner, ready to walk into the courtyard, she stopped and dashed around the corner. There were two men silhouetted against the wall, and she heard them say her name. She listened intently and heard her father's voice.

     "What does he plan to be the bride price?" Lord Porfirio said. 

     "He says forty ducats," the other man replied in Italian inflection. Lord Porfirio appeared to be dissatisfied. 

     "She's my eldest daughter, my lord," he said wearily. "I need more. Forty ducats will not be enough to keep the citadel going." Maggie gasped. Her father was planning to marry her off to some stranger! Maggie had hoped this day would never come, yet, here it was. She dreaded who it might be. Recently, her father found out of an inherited debt his father had left. If he could not pay this debt, he would be stripped of his title and his citadel. Maggie knew a bride price could save the citadel. However, Maggie would rather die than marry a cruel wealthy man.

     The next day, Maggie's suspicions were confirmed when she found a letter from some Roman emperor's nephew mentioning a bride price that would save the citadel and more. She sat in the kitchen on the summer day, with her youngest sister, Etheldreda, and her father.

     "So," she said. "Who is he?" Maggie looked at her father while she braided Etheldreda's curly, thin blond hair. 

     "Who is who?" Lord Porfirio echoed, though Maggie knew he knew of what she spoke. She blinked and he continued. "He's a general in the Holy Land. He is a relative of the Roman emperor's son. He's been here lately, and he's seen you playing with the children and feeding the fatherless children in the village." Maggie tried to ignore the cold lump in her throat. How could her father simply give her away like this? She wished Will or Edric would come and whisk her away, to their tree fort, where they could travel to the Far East, and meet a band of Gypsies. She knew all of this would be make-believe, but when she was younger, it was all truth to her. She finished braiding Etheldreda's hair and sent her outside to play with the other children. When the child was out of earshot, Maggie stood and went to kneel beside her father's chair, at which he was sitting. She took his hand gently and looked him lovingly in the eye.

     "Papa," she began. "I would rather marry for love and be a pauper than marry an evil man and be wealthy. Can you not see? I love Will and Edric." Lord Porfirio looked away, frustrated.

     "But apparently neither of them wish to ask for you, my daughter," he said. Maggie frowned and stood. She turned and walked briskly outside, her hair blowing gently across her face in the breeze. She headed in the direction of the stables, to realize she was being followed by her younger siblings. She had four of them altogether, the youngest being Etheldreda, who was six years old and who looked the most like their mother. Maggie heard them walking behind her, their little legs moving quickly to keep up with her. Finally, Maggie hid a smile, and without looking at them, she asked, "Who wants to see something special?" She turned around and walked backwards to look at them, all short and blond-haired. Everyone of them raised their hands and clapped merrily. Maggie laughed. "To the buggy, then!" she said, turning back around. The children, all but one, ran ahead of her. Only Theodoric, Teddy, as he was known, stayed with Maggie. Maggie knew, of course, why this was. Teddy was crippled, and his left leg did not work correctly. He had used a crutch for all the ten years that he could walk. Maggie looked at him.

     "I need some company, Teddy," she said, patting his shoulder. He looked up at her.

     "I heard you and Papa," he said in his frail voice. "Are you going to go away?" Maggie gave him a small smile, then looked away.

     "Perhaps," she replied. "But I do not intend to. I will find a way to get out of it." Teddy looked at her.

     "I will help you find a way," he said. Maggie smiled at him and they reached the stable, where a buggy was waiting. The younger children had already hitched a pony to the two-wheeled wagon, and they were already in the wagon, waiting for Maggie and Teddy. Maggie helped Teddy in and Maggie walked beside as they started toward the oak tree. As the pony, Phil, pulled the wagon full of children, Maggie drifted off into another flashback.

     " Magdalena du Pree, since when do you go swimming?" Maggie looked at Will as she stripped down to her underdress. 

     "Since it was so hot out," she said. "Now let's get to the waterfall spring before the water evaporates." The tomboyish eleven year old ran ahead of Will and Edric. They raced through the woods and finally came to the small waterfall which flowed into a cool, deep spring. Maggie lept into the pool, followed by Will. When they were both in, they saw that Edric was hesitating.

     "Come on, Ed," Will encouraged. Edric sighed.

     "I think I'll just sit out on this one," he said. "I'm not that hot anyway." But Will and Maggie could see the sweat on Edric's forehead. He quickly wiped it away and Will walked out of the water to Edric. He motioned for Maggie to splash the older boy. Maggie smiled while Edric wasn't looking, then prepared to splash. When he looked at her, she sent a spray of water rushing at Edric. He looked irritated for a moment, but began to laugh. Will climbed a tree which hung over the spring, and he jumped from the tree into the spring. Edric and Maggie laughed and finally, Edric was persuaded to enter the water. Just as he jumped in another time, Will let out a cry of pain. Maggie and Edric stopped laughing and turned to Will. He started toward the bank and Edric and Maggie followed. When he sat on the bank, they saw that Will had stepped on a clay shard. His foot was bleeding heavily. Maggie bravely pulled the shard from his foot and Edric lifted Will into his arms. Will frowned and protested, "I can walk," but Maggie looked at him. 

     "Shut-up, Will," she said. "You cannot walk, otherwise you'll be putting unnecessary pain on yourself. You don't have to show off to me." Edric laughed, but Will continued to frown. They carried him back to the citadel, where Maggie's mother, the Baroness, mended Will's wound.

     "No more swimming in that spring," the Baroness warned. Edric nodded, but Will and Maggie just looked at one another, knowing that neither of them would obey.

     "When will we get - " Etheldreda started. But, they were there. Maggie smiled as all the children piled out of the wagon and scrambled up to the tree fort in the oak tree. 

     "Why did you bring me?" Teddy asked, looking at Maggie. She smiled.

     "You can do it," she said. "I'll help you." Teddy frowned, but followed Maggie to the foot of the tree. She took his crutch from him and he leaned on the tree for support. Maggie handed the crutch up to the other children, and they took it and laid it on the floor. Then Maggie lifted Teddy up to the tree fort. The other children reached down and grabbed onto his hands.

     "Pull him up," Maggie encouraged. They did, and soon, Teddy was in the tree fort. Everyone clapped and Maggie smiled at Teddy's overjoyed look. She sat at the foot of the tree for a moment, but was soon pulled into the Battle of Jericho. Half the children pretended to be Joshua's army, marching around the city of Jericho, while the other half were the guards in the city.

     Later that night, after the younger children were asleep, Maggie sat with her father and the dressmaker in the dining room. While eating a late supper, the three - not so much Maggie as Lord Porfirio and Billings, the dressmaker - were discussing Maggie's wedding gown. Maggie poked at her food silently and when neither of the men were looking, she gave bits of food to the two dogs sitting under the table. The conversation, which was becoming boring to Maggie, was interrupted by a young page who came into the dining room. He gave a little bow, and Maggie smiled at him.

     "I've come with a letter from Sir William Caradoc," he said. No sooner than the words left his mouth had Maggie went to the boy. She gave him a penny and sent him on his way.

     "Magdalena," Lord Porfirio warned, with a glance at the dressmaker.

     "Excuse me, please," Maggie said, although she knew her father didn't want her even reading the letter while they had a guest. Maggie took the letter to her bedchamber and sat on her four-poster bed. The bed had thick, red velvet curtains, and a red satin bedspread with gold threads. Maggie unfolded the letter and saw that it had been sent five months before. Her hands shook slightly as she held the letter, for she hadn't heard from neither Will nor Edric in a year and a half. She was afraid to read the letter, for fear of reading something she didn't want to read.

Dear Maggie,

     I deduce that you're afraid something might be wrong, but that's not true, so rest assured that we're both fine. I should tell you I was wounded mildly - a little cut on the underside of my forearm - but other than that no major damage. The general says we should be able to come home soon. How soon, I don't know, but we - Edric and I - presume within the next year. We miss you, and anxiously await our return home. I'm afraid we only have ten minutes to write a letter, and mine are nearly up. Both Edric and I wish you our best and we both miss you. Don't do anything impulsive. I know you might. Love, Will

Maggie sighed in relief at the fact that they were both alive. Setting the letter on her bed, she went to the window and pushed the organdy curtains back. She let the breeze blow her hair and she folded her arms across her chest. As she looked up at the moon, she thought about what Will had told her when he left.

     "Why do you have to go? You're only fourteen." Maggie pushed her wet hair off her face and looked at Will. They sat in the tree hanging over the spring - the spring the Baroness had told them not to swim in - both dripping wet from just getting out of the water. Will had a slight limp from the shard that cut his foot. The moonlight shone and made an enchanting reflection on the water. Will looked away briefly, up into the sky, and back at Maggie.

     "I can fight," he said simply, but quietly. "Every able bodied man who can fight has to. The Moors are taking over Jerusalem, where the Jews are supposed to live in peace. Someone has to fight with them." Maggie got angry for a moment and slammed her fist on the tree bark.

     "Why you?" she said, her voice getting louder. "Why not the older men? The men who don't have families to look after and friends to be with." Will raised his voice.

     "That's how war is, Maggie. If they need you, you go. It's my duty as a man - "

     "You're not a man!" Maggie interrupted. Then she softened her tone. "You're only fourteen. You're not even a knight, yet. I don't want you to go." Will blinked and looked up at the sky again.

     "See the moon?" he said. Maggie nodded. "It's the same moon I'm going to be looking at in the Holy Lands. I think if you remember that, you'll remember we're not that far apart." Maggie swallowed and nodded, but she looked at her lap, not convinced.

     Maggie was convinced, now that they had been apart for five years. She wondered if Will could see the moon in Jerusalem. She turned and sat on her bed again with a piece of parchment and a pen and ink. When the letter was finished, she ran down the stone staircase to the entrance hall, and then to the courtyard. She was looking for the page who had delivered Will's letter, and after a few minutes of running, she found him in the village. She grabbed his shoulder and looked at him, handing him the letter.

     "What is your name, boy?" she asked.

     "Christian, my lady," he replied quickly. Maggie looked into his big green eyes. 

     "Listen, master Christian," she said. "I want you to get this to the harbour and make sure it gets to Sir William Caradoc in less than two months." She gave him a heavy purse full of pennies. "Give this to the messenger and tell him what I said. Tell him I said it, and if I find out you took some of this money, I'll have you locked in the dungeon." Of course, Maggie knew the boy wouldn't take the money, and she would never lock a child in the dungeon. She gave him a little push and he ran as quickly as his long, slender legs would carry him. Maggie watched him run and sighed. Then she started toward the stable. She went to the stall where she kept her horse, Cherry. She gently stroked the horse's nose and looked into his big black eyes.

     "Do you remember Edric and Will, Cherry?" she said softly. "Do you remember Edric riding you through the woods? He was always so kind to you. Of course, you must remember him. Any horse whose master was good to him would remember that master." Maggie entered the stall and mounted the horse after draping a dark green saddle blanket over the horse's back. "Let's go for a ride," Maggie said. She gently squeezed the horse with her legs and Cherry started at a trot out of the stable. When they were in the woods, Maggie said, "Run. Ride with the wind." The horse, obedient to his master, took off at a full gallop. Maggie's hair flew behind her as she seemed to glide through the trees; dogwoods, cherry trees, rowans, chestnuts, and willows, among others. The bright moonlight peeked through the trees every now and again, and it shone on Maggie's hair and sparkled in her eyes. Soon, she came to the spring. She dismounted Cherry and undressed as she walked down the bank. She entered the water and it was cool and sparkling. She felt refreshed, and she backfloated across the water. She stopped in the middle of the pool and dipped her head back, getting the hair out of her eyes. She went under briefly, and when she came up, she looked toward Cherry to see that her dress and shoes were gone. She looked around frantically, staying in the water up to her neck.

     "Who's there?" she called to the darkness. Suddenly she heard laughing from the tree overhanging the spring. She spun around in the water and looked up in the tree. Someone was sitting on the thickest branch, holding her dress in his lap. "Who are you?" Maggie repeated. "Show yourself or I'll scream." The person climbed down the tree and stood on the bank, and Maggie saw his face in the moonlight.

     "Will!" she exclaimed, her voice ecstatic and irritated at the same time. Will smiled and Maggie frowned at him, refusing to show joy until he gave her clothes back. He lay them on the bank near the water, then turned around, so that his back was to her.

     "I won't look," he said. "Go ahead." Maggie couldn't help but smile, and she kept the water to her neck as she went to her clothes. She quickly got out of the water and quickly slipped her dress over her head. When she had done so, she tapped Will's shoulder, grinning. He turned around and she threw her arms around his neck. He returned the tight hug, and they hugged for several seconds.

     "Your personality has not changed at all," Maggie said into Will's shoulder. He laughed and held her at arm's length. Maggie smiled and shook her head. "But you've grown so," she said. "Look at you. I just sent a letter to you this night. I received your letter, as well." Will's auburn hair was wavy and hung down his forehead, and his eyes, which Maggie had always considered "neither blue nor green, yet, both blue and green" were still as mischievous as they always had been. He was taller than Maggie by a head and she looked up at him, while when she was thirteen and he was fourteen, they were the exact same height. His limp was completely gone, as well.

     "What?" Maggie asked when Will was staring at her.

     "I was exactly right," he said, looking her from head to toe. "Remember when you were seven and I said - " Maggie nodded and laughed.

     "What are you doing here? Let me see your arm. Where is Edric?" Maggie flung the questions at him as they went to Cherry.

     "First, I said in my letter that we were expected to return within the next year, and that was nine months ago," Will started. "Second, my arm." Will rolled his sleeve up to reveal a severe scar that went from the middle of his upper arm to the middle of his forearm. Maggie looked at it in horror and she put her hand on his arm.

     "Will, that isn't little! What are you - " she began. Will put his finger on her lips and she looked at him, brow furrowed.

     "And third, Edric is at an inn in town," he said, looking into her eyes. "Shall we go see him?" Maggie nodded and Will took his finger off her lips. Maggie walked Cherry and Will walked beside her. She put her arm around his shoulder and he put his around her waist.

     "I am glad you're back," she said. "But..." She thumped his arm hard. 

     "Ow!" Will exclaimed. "What was that for?" Maggie looked satisfied.

     "That was for taking my dress," she said. Will laughed and they continued toward the village.

     When they arrived at the inn, Will and Maggie tied Cherry up and went to Edric's room. He was staring silently out the window, but when he saw Maggie, they embraced one another. Edric, now twenty-one, was tall, strong, and his dark hair reached his shoulders. His eyes were brown and he wore a little stubble.

     "Ed, you look so grown up," Maggie remarked. She looked contentedly at Will and Edric. "My father will be so pleased to see you both." Maggie suddenly remembered her father. He would not only be upset that Maggie was out this late, but he would also be upset because they had had a guest concerning her wedding and it was disrespectful for the women not to see guests off. This made Maggie think of her wedding. She took Will's hand in one of hers and Edric's in the other.

     "Let us go to the citadel," she said. "You think you have come home from the battlefield and you do not get to sleep in the bed of your neighbor's house?" Edric and Will followed Maggie out of the inn and into the darkness.

     Edric and Will went to two of the extra bedchambers when they got to the ciatdel, and she went to bed, because it was late at night - or early in the morning - and her father had already retired. Lying in bed, Maggie wished she could be with Edric and Will instead of sleep. She battled herself over whether she should tell the boys - men - about her marriage. Maybe if she told them, she would not have to marry the general. Although, if she did tell them, and they wanted to marry her, which she deemed impossible at this moment, she would not know which brother to marry and everything would be a mess. She finally decided she would tell them when the new day came, and soon, she was asleep. 

     Maggie awoke to the sun shining on her face and Will standing over her.

     "Wakey, wakey," he said. Maggie frowned and sat up to see a wooden tray of breakfast at her feet. "I let the cook have a break this morning and made you breakfast." Maggie's frown turned into a smile and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. 

     "William Caradoc, since when do you make breakfast for a lady?" she asked playfully. Will sat on the edge of her bed as Maggie put the tray in her lap.

     "Since I was in the presence of one," Will said. Maggie thought he was joking, but she looked at him and saw he wasn't smiling. He just looked at her, and suddenly, Maggie found herself leaning toward him. Just as their lips were going to touch, Will backed away and took a breath.

      "I got you this," he said. He handed Maggie a burlap satchel and she took it from him. Looking inside, she pulled out a gold chain with a charm of garnet embedded in gold. She smiled and looked at Will.

      "Thank you," she said. "I love it. I'll wear it today." She laughed. "Just get out of my room and I'll get dressed." Will chuckled and gave her a mischievous smile. Then he left her room and closed the door behind him. Maggie held the necklace in her palm and looked at it. Then after eating her breakfast, which was excellent for a knight who had just returned from the battlefront, she changed into a gown that matched the necklace and she brushed her hair. When she was finished getting ready, she went to Edric's bedchamber, but neither of the brothers were there. She went back to her room and looked out the window. To her surprise, she saw Will on the ground below her window on horseback. He looked up at her.

     "Come down, Maggie," he said, waving for her. Maggie hurried down the staircase, through the entrance hall, past the courtyard, and around the corner to where Will was waiting. Cherry was tied to a nearby dogwood tree and Will was riding his own beloved Spanish mustang, Diablo. Maggie frowned slightly, not sure what mood Will was in. But then he smiled at her.

     "Ride with me," he said. He did not have to say anymore, and he and Maggie were quickly engaged in a race through the trees. Having lived in Nottinghamshire longer than Will, Maggie knew her way around the forest better, and soon she had lost Will. She turned her horse around and decided he might be at the spring. When she arrived at the waterfall, she had decided correctly, and Will was sitting on the bank.

     "Did I not tell you, my lady?" Will said mockingly. "We were racing to the spring." He laughed and Maggie dismounted her horse, smiling ironically. She sat beside him and they quietly listened to the chirping of the birds and the breeze blowing through the tree branches. Maggie looked at Will and he looked back at her.

     "I did not stop thinking of you the entire time I was in the Holy Lands," Will said softly. Maggie blinked, unsure of what Will was getting to. He continued. "I would wake up before dawn each morning and reflect on the dreams I had about you the night before. Then as I sharpened my sword at the smithy I would look out into the yellow desert and wish you were there to fight along side me, because I knew you could."

     "Will..." Maggie started, looking away from him.

     "And then at night, if a battle was over and we could sleep, I would lie there looking at the moon and wonder if you could see the moon here in Nottinghamshire," Will said. "Did you not as well?" Maggie swallowed and did not know how to cope with Will's sudden amorousness. She had always known him to be a playful and mischievous boy, always looking for someone on whom to play a prank. Finally, the butterflies in Maggie's stomach went away and she looked at Will.

     "You have become a man, Sir William Caradoc, Knight of Nottinghamshire," she said with a small smile. Will returned her smile.

     "And you have become a woman, Lady Magdalena du Pree, Daughter of the Wood," he replied. Maggie gave a little laugh. 

     "Daughter of the Wood?" she repeated. Will laughed and again, Maggie found herself being drawn closer to him. Their lips barely touched when Edric came galloping up on a horse.

     "Maggie," he said, breathing hard. "It's your father. Something has happened to his heart." Maggie and Will stood and mounted their horses and sped away, although Maggie was in the lead, as usual. She hurried to the citadel and to the hall, where her father had been holding a banquet. Maggie was supposed to have attended, because the emperor's relative was there. She ignored the other guests and ran to her father's chair at the head of the table.

     "Papa," she said, out of breath. Will and Edric entered the hall and stood in the enormous doorway. "Papa," Maggie said again. He had fallen out of his chair. Lord Porfirio clutched at his chest and looked his daughter in the eyes.

     "Maggie," he wheezed. "Forgive me, my daughter." Maggie's eyes were blurred with tears as she held her father's head in her lap.

     "There is nothing to forgive, Papa," she said, smiling softly. "What would you have me do?" Lord Porfirio gasped, as if the pain in his heart was too much to bear.

     "Take care of the children," he said, his voice growing weak. "Do not grieve for me. I go..." he wheezed "...to my fathers. Forgive me." With one last gasp, Lord Porfirio was gone. Maggie held her father close and began to sob into his shoulder. A tall, dark man stood up and went to Maggie's side.

     "Magdalena," he said in a strong Italian accent. "Why do - " Maggie felt Edric's hands on her shoulders and she stood, backing slowly away from her father. The Italian man stood to his feet and showed himself to be as tall as Edric, although his eyes shone eerily, and it made him seem bigger.

     "Who are you?" Edric demanded as Will took Maggie's hand.

     "I am Maurice Castilettio. I have come to meet my bride," the man said. Maggie's chin continued to quiver and she gave Castilettio a face of disgust. As if he had a suspicion, Will let go of Maggie's hand and went to Lord Porfirio's cup, which he had dropped. Will touched the spilt wine and smelled it.

     "Poison," he said, mostly to himself, but Maggie heard it over Castilettio's voice. 

     After Lord Porfirio's funeral pyre was built, and his body cremated, Maggie spoke to no one. Her younger siblings went to stay with Maggie's aunt in Derry, in Ireland (it's called Londonderry, now) for while. Maggie woke up a few gray mornings later expecting to see Will or Edric at the foot of her bed, as they had since her father's death. Instead, Castilettio stood by the window. Maggie frowned and lay back down, pulling her sheet to her chin.

     "Why do you lack vitality?" the man said from the window, without looking at Maggie. He turned and Maggie felt his eyes on her back. "Can you not see who Sir Caradoc really is?" 

     Maggie spoke without looking at Castilettio. "Where are they? Where are Will and Edric?" she demanded. She heard his footsteps coming around the bed.

     "They have gone. They went back to the Holy Lands. Were you so naive to think they would stay and save you from me? They have deserted you, love," Castilettio said. Maggie threw the covers back and got out of bed.

     "Do not call me that," she said as she walked briskly out of the room. She slammed the door behind her and went to her mother's old room. There, she dressed in one of the baroness' gowns and she brushed her hair with her mother's brush. She looked in the mirror at her necklace. She never took it off, even when she went to bed or swam in the spring. Maggie hurried out of the citadel and walked around the perimeter in the light rain once. Then she put her plan into action. She walked nonchalantly to the stables, as if nothing were wrong, and she went to Cherry's stall. Just as she had thrown the saddle blanket over the horse's back, someone grasped her wrist firmly. 

     "Trying to run away, are we, my lady?" an Italian soldier stood beside Maggie and she swallowed.

     "She was planning an escape, my liege." Maggie stood in the hall before Castilettio. He sat in her father's chair as if he were the duke. Castilettio looked at Maggie, although she kept her eyes averted from his. 

     "Is this true, love?" he asked. Maggie didn't answer. She felt disgust in the presence of this man. Castilettio stood from his chair and sauntered toward Maggie and began to circle her. 

     "Why do you despise me, daughter of the wood?" he asked, stopping in front of Maggie. He took her chin in his hand and she jerked it away.

     "Where did you hear that name?" she asked, her voice relatively quiet. Castilettio continued walking.

     "I have many more . . . resources than you know," he said with a glance at Maggie. "You still have not answered my question." Maggie watched him as he circled her.

     "You murdered my father," she began. "You say Will and Edric have deserted me, but I know them better. I know you were involved in their sudden dissapearance, but how, I have yet to figure out. You are a greedy man with a lust for naught but riches and power. You have a rank and fetid smell, as well." Castilettio grabbed her arm and dug his foul, long fingernails into her skin.

     "I will have enough of your insults and sass," he said. "You will grow to love me or I will slit your throat." He kept a firm hold on her arm and dragged her to her bedchamber. Throwing her in violently, she landed on the floor.

     "The wedding is in three days," he said. "Let me tell you, I have no desire to marry you except for your castle and your beauty. I had no castle in Italy. And no beauty, either. Your dress is being made, and when it is, I expect you to wear it with radiance, for you know what I will do to you if you do not. Understand?" Maggie, whose body ached from being thrown so hard, winced and nodded, her eyes welling up in tears. Castilettio shut the door and Maggie heard it lock. She lay helplessly on the floor, curled up and gently touching her necklace.

     "Will?" Edric sat up and nearly gagged at the foul smell of the darkness. When his eyes were accustomed to the light, he saw Will lying on the floor at his feet, unconscious. Will's forehead and nose were bleeding, and his arms and legs were bruised. He had been stripped of his armor and his shirt was ripped. Edric was, in fact, in much better condition than his younger brother. He had only a minor bleeding scratch on his hand and a few bruises, but he could stand. He realized they were in the cesspit, underneath the streets of the village. Edric remembered what had happened.

     "Will, would you hand me my sword?" Edric asked as he sat at the smithy. Will did so as he took a bite of his apple. 

     "What should we do for Maggie?" Will asked. "She has hardly spoken to anyone since her father died." Edric glanced at him as he sharpened his sword.

     "You know he was poisoned," he assumed. Will nodded silently.

     "Maggie knows, as well," he said. "I - " 

     Suddenly, Will was interrupted by the sound of galloping. 

     "You're under arrest in the name of Lord Maurice Castilettio," a man in armor said, riding up to Will and Edric. Will drew his sword and Edric raised his, but before either of them could even speak, they were knocked over the heads with the hilts of two of the Italians' swords.

     "Will?" Edric said again. He knelt beside his brother and gently touched his arm. It must have hurt Will, because he winced and his eyes opened.

     "Where's Maggie?" were his first words. "Where are we?" Edric helped his brother sit up. Will flinched and gasped at the pain in his body.

     "Castilettio has us in the cesspit," Edric said. Will frowned.

     "Where is Maggie?" he repeated. Edric began to rip the bottom of his shirt off and tie it around Will's arm, where the bleeding and bruising were worst.

     "I know not. She can take care of herself."

     "Not in the presence of that brutal swine," Will protested, trying to stand. He nearly fell back over, and Edric steadied him and supported him.

     "I will get out," he said. "Then I'll save you and we'll rescue Maggie together. You cannot move in this state." Will frowned, but knew Edric was right. Edric helped Will sit back down. He then began to follow the dark tunnel. 

     The next morning, Maggie heard her door unlock and Castilettio entered, closing the door behind himself. She sat on her windowsill and she looked at him. He held a white linen gown up. It was trimmed at the sleeves and the waist in gold, and Castilettio held it out to Maggie.

     "Try it on, love," he said with a wicked smile and shining eyes. Maggie snatched the dress from his hands and went behind her changing screen. As she changed, she heard Castilettio walking around her room.

     "Who is this, the drawing on your desk?" he asked, and Maggie heard the paper crinkle.

     "My mother," she replied shortly. Maggie put the gown over her head and stepped out, wearing an expression like that of a tomboy wearing a pink and frilly dress.

     "Ah," Castilettio said, putting the drawing back on the desk. Maggie looked out the window as Castilettio circled her once, then stopped to face her. "Beautiful. You know," Castilettio said, bringing his long fingernail to Maggie's cheek. She clenched her jaw as he ran his fingernail down her neck. He continued. "You know, you should think yourself lucky. Your father was clever to betroth you to me, considering he was going to lose this place anyway. As soon as we're married, you and I are going to go to Rome, where we shall do what we please. I hear tell of a manor bigger than this citadel there, and I mean to dwell there to the end of my days." 

     "I will never leave Nottinghamshire, nor will I ever marry you, you brutal pig!" Maggie replied coldly through gritted teeth. Castilettio drew his sword swiftly and pointed it at Maggie's throat.

     "I believe I told you I will have enough of your sass," he said, his voice raising. Maggie swallowed.

     "If you kill me now, you will gain neither my beauty nor my wealth," she warned. Castilettio did not lower the sword, but he looked at Maggie's necklace.

     "What's this?" he asked. Maggie did not reply, and Castilettio ripped the necklace off her with his sword. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed again. Castilettio leaned down and picked up the necklace.

     "One of the Caradocs gave this to you," he speculated. Maggie opened her eyes and watched Castilettio put the necklace in his pocket. With a slight nod, Castilettio left Maggie in her room, locking the door as he went. Maggie sank onto her bed and lay there, crying quietly.

     Edric found his way to the entrance of the tunnel and looked frantically for a way to get out. He saw through the bars of the drain a girl, about twelve or thirteen years old. Knowing he would scare the daylight out of her if he touched her foot, he called out to her softly. She looked around for a moment. "Down here," Edric said. The girl looked down and gasped quietly.

     "What are you doing in there, sir knight?" she asked, setting down the basket of laundry she carried.

     "My business is mine own," he replied. "I need you to help me get out of here."

     "How do I know you are not a villain locked in there for some vile crime?" the girl asked.

     "What is your name, lass?" Edric asked.

     "Philomena, sir, but everyone calls me Mena."

     "Mena, I need to get out of here because my brother's true love is about to be forced to marry a corrupt villain, who put me in here in the first place. Will you not aid true love?" Edric said exasperatedly. Mena frowned.

     "Why did you not tell me so?" she asked, leaning down. She unlatched the door and Edric climbed out.

     "Mena," he said, putting his hands on the girl's shoulders. "My brother is still down there, injured badly and unable to move. If you get him out of there some how, I'll pay you in pennies."

     "No need for pay, sir knight," she said. "Go save the lady and I'll get my brothers to help." Edric nodded and was about to be on his way, but the lass touched his arm. He looked at her. "You may want to wash before you go. No offense intended, sir, but you smell unimaginably. My father owns a washtub. Tell him I sent you and he shall let you use it. He shall give you clean clothes, as well." Edric nodded and thanked her and hurried away.

     Before dawn the next morning, Maggie awoke and sat on her windowsill, watching the moon slowly wane. She swallowed and went to her bed, where she got down on the floor. Reaching under the bed, she pulled a box out and set it on her desk. She ran her fingers over the Germanic runes and said them to herself.

     "To Magdalena with love. May you use this in your most dire need. Father." She opened the box slowly and removed the silver dagger, which had a Bible verse from Jeremiah written on it in the same runes. Then she went to her window again and gazed outside, letting the cool breeze blow her hair. Gradually raising the knife, she aimed it downward at the middle of her collarbone. Just as she was about to plunge the dagger into her neck, a strong hand gripped her wrist.

     "There shall be no need for that," a voice said. Maggie swallowed and her hand let go of the dagger. It fell to the floor with a clang.

Shortly prior to this, Edric found his way into the citadel. Sneaking about, trying to get to Maggie's room, but having to avoid being seen by Castilettio or any of his men, Edric had found his way to Castilettio's chambers. He stayed out of the bedchamber, but heard voices inside.

     "I need a new sword forged in two days," Castilettio was saying in Italian. (Edric had learned Italian when he was in the Holy Lands.) 

     "What is your plan, my lord?" another voice said. 

     "I certainly cannot have the girl with me while I make my living in Rome. I mean to kill her the night of our wedding." That was all Edric needed to hear before running to Maggie's room.

     Maggie looked behind her to see Edric. She embraced him and kissed the corner of his mouth, then looked at him.

     "Where were you? Have you any idea what I have been through?" she asked. "How did you get in? The door was locked." Edric held his index finger to her lips.

     "We're getting out," he said. "Follow me." He took hold of her hand and she followed him out of her room. She glanced back as they hurried quietly down the corridor and saw an unconscious guard. There's how he got in. Edric led her out to the courtyard and to the stables. They both mounted Cherry and rode out of the stable into the waxing sunlight. They had not ridden to the village walls before they were suddenly surrounded by Castilettio's soldiers, who all aimed arrows at Edric and Maggie. Castilettio himself rode up on horseback.

     "I should kill you both now," he said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Maggie.

     "What stays your blade?" Edric asked defiantly. Castilettio moved the sword to Edric's throat and put slight pressure on his skin. Maggie saw a drop of blood trickle down Edric's neck. 

     "Only the humor you bring me in trying to rescue the girl," Castilettio replied. Edric chuckled and Castilettio sheathed his sword.

     "Take them both to the dungeon," he ordered the other men. Maggie saw Edric wink at the bushes near the gate. At first, she thought he must not have been in his right mind, but then she realized it was a signal. She gasped as arrows flew from all directions, all at the soldiers. Amidst the chaos, Edric whispered to Maggie.

     "Go back to the citadel," he said. "This is plan 'B', and I'm afraid we have to use it." Maggie nodded, although she was not completely sure about it. Edric dissapeared amongst the falling soldiers and Castilettio's yelling became louder when he saw Maggie going back to the citadel. She galloped down the road and to the stables, then after dismounting Cherry, she ran as quickly as her legs would carry her back into her bedchamber. There, she hurriedly put away her dagger and placed the box in its safe place under the bed. It was not long before Castilettio stormed in and drew his blade.

     "I suppose you thought that was incredibly cunning," he said, cornering Maggie and placing the sword at the side of her neck. She felt the cold steel ready to cut her throat at any moment.

     "Am I really worth the trouble?" she asked, trying to remain calm and nonchalant. Castilettio took a step closer and Maggie felt his foul, hot breath on her face.

     "I'm beginning to wonder," he replied through gritted teeth. "I will kill those brothers myself, if it's the last thing I do!" Maggie swallowed and Castilettio sheathed his sword and left the room in a fume. Maggie let out a sigh of relief that he did not harm her, although she was terribly worried for Edric and Will.

     Edric stood in the only room of Philomena (whose surname was Gamdred), pacing while Mena's brothers looked on. There were four brothers, and all of them were very fond of Edric, thus they had become good friends with him. Will was hiding at Mena's grandmother's cottage, about six leagues south of Mena's home. Finally Edric stopped when there was noise from outside. He and the others ran to the window and saw that three of the six houses on the road had been set on fire. Mothers frantically ran away with their children, and they were all screaming. 

     "They're looking for me," Edric said grimly. He looked at the boys, all of whom ranged from fifteen to nineteen. "Go help the women and children." They obeyed and Edric ran outside to face the men on horseback. Altogether, there were sixteen of them. Edric mounted his loyal horse and drew his sword, along with a torch in his left hand. He rode toward Castilettio's assembly without flinching, prepared to take on all sixteen. 

     Will's eyes opened and he saw that he was in a small cottage. He sat up and touched his aching head. It had healed completely, and his bruises were gone.

     "Where am I?" he said, more to himself. A beautiful old woman emerged from the kitchen. Her hair was silvery and flowed about her and onto the floor. She wore a long white gown and she had scarcely any wrinkles, like any old woman might. Her blue eyes and smile were what made Will like her immediately.

     "You are in the house of Eriel, White Lady of the Wood," the woman replied in a deep, mellifluous voice. Will looked at her and she continued. "I am the grandmother of Philomena Gamdred, daughter of Hameth Gamdred, and you are in my house. You were badly wounded, sir knight. I have healed you." Will frowned slightly.

     "White lady of the wood?" he repeated. He thought for a moment, thinking he had before heard the name. He looked at her again. "You're the sorceress, the enchantress, of Sherwood Forest," he said finally. The woman gracefully poured a cup of ale without looking, and her eyes caught Will's.

     "They call me an enchantress?" she asked. Will nodded and she laughed melodiously. "I am no enchantress."

     "What are you, then?" Will asked as she brought him the ale. He took it and drank it thankfully, although he thought it tasted strange.

     "I am . . . My family calls me a white witch," she said after a moment. She noticed Will's thoughts of the ale and said, "It has aniseed in it." Will furrowed his brow, although he did like the ale.

     "You, sir knight," Eriel said, "have a lady to save. There is a horse waiting for you just outside, and there will be a muster of my companions waiting for you at the castle gate. They will not fail you." Will nodded and set the ale down. When he pulled the covers off himself, he saw that his tattered and dirty clothes were gone and he wore clean, white, linen garments. He went toward the door and Eriel said his name. He looked at her.

     "You are forgetting your armor," she said with a smile. Will looked back toward the door and saw a pile of armor. He looked at Eriel with a content, but slightly confused, smile.

     The morning Maggie awoke with Castilettio standing over her would later be called the worst day of her life. It is hard for someone like Maggie to exaggerate. 

     "Get up," Castilettio commanded. Maggie obeyed and stood still as he threw her wedding gown at her. "Today's the big day," he said. "Not the best weather for a wedding, but we'll make it." Maggie swallowed and held the dress as Castilettio left the room. She changed quickly and brushed her hair, while occasionally glancing out the window, looking for Edric. When she was dressed, she went down to the courtyard, where a gathering of young women of the village, who had likely been paid by Castilettio to attend the wedding as Maggie's bridesmaids. The maypole was set up, and the pretty pink, white, and green ribbons hung down, ready to be twirled around the pole. White tents were scattered about the courtyard, and a jester juggled clumsily near the gate. Maggie swallowed as all of the attendants stopped what they were doing to watch her. Soon, the priest came and Maggie was led to the altar to stand beside Castilettio. She wondered frantically where Edric was. The priest began his long ceremony.

     "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

     Will rode with great haste toward the citadel. The armor fit perfectly, and the great white steed Eriel had given him was loyal and obedient. He was given a new sword, which was long and sharp, and had Germanic runes engraved into it. Will rode through the forest with the wind.

     "...which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in Paradise..."

     Edric rode with Mena's brothers and her brother's friends north to Maggie's citadel. The sky overhead was cloudy and the air humid. Edric knew rain would come. He drew his sword as they neared the citadel.

     "...and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined..."

     Will approached the citadel. He saw coming from the east Edric and eight men. Waiting for him at the gate, as Eriel had said, there was a large assembly of armed men on horseback. Will gave Edric a wry smile and Edric looked proudly toward the gate. Thunder boomed and a flash of lightning filled the sky.

     "Therefore, if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter hold his peace forever." Maggie swallowed and gritted her teeth as the priest waited and the sky poured the rain like a gardener watering his garden.

  

     Will gave his men a signal, and they charged through the citadel's gate. When they were inside, and everyone stared, Will said, "I have a cause." Maggie looked at him in surprise and relief, but Castilettio realized who had arrived. He drew his sword and held Maggie in a headlock, with the sword pressed against her stomach.

     "Take a step closer, and I will kill her," Castilettio said. Will blinked and the attendants of the wedding gasped. Suddenly, the feeble old priest took a step and knocked Castilettio over the head with the big Bible. Of course, it did not injure Castilettio, but it did startle him, and he let go of Maggie. She ran to Edric and grabbed a sword from one of the attendees. Edric swept her onto the back of his horse and she rode with him through the courtyard, in a battle with Castilettio's many men. Maggie looked toward Will and saw that he was in a one-on-one swordfight with Castilettio.

     "Edric," she said as she defeated yet another of Castilettio's men. The commoners had fled the courtyard and Castilettio's men kept coming out of the castle. Edric looked in the direction of where Maggie was pointing. Castilettio was moving in on Will, and if Will took only a few more steps, he would fall off the drawbridge and into the moat. Edric tried to ride to Will's aid, but there were too many soldiers in the way. Maggie dismounted and made her way to where Castilettio and Will fought. Finding herself engaged in defending herself from three Italians, she tried to see Will. Finally she yelled. 

     "Will!" she warned. Will looked over the soldiers' heads and saw Maggie. For a moment, there eyes were interlocked and Maggie saw an unfamiliar look of fear and defeat. She swallowed and brought her attention to the Italian trying to get to her. She fought persistently, trying to make her way to Will. 

     "Maggie!" Maggie turned and saw Edric looking for her. During the one moment she looked away from Will, something horrific must have happened. When she looked back, Castilettio's sword plunged into the right side of Will's stomach. Castilettio removed the sword and stabbed at Will again, this time in the left side. Everything moved in slow motion for Maggie, and she cried out, both in terror and in pain from the sword that sliced at her right arm. She put her sword in her left hand and fought past all the men who were trying to get to her. Finally, she charged at Castilettio herself. Just as she was about to stab him, he turned and raised his sword. But an arrow shot through the air and pierced Castilettio's heart. He gasped, and fell to the ground. Maggie ran to Will and caught him as he was about to fall off the drawbridge. She helped him stagger to his feet and they moved to the wall, where Maggie sat with Will's upper half in her lap. He was gasping instead of breathing, and as if all things were about to end, the courtyard was quiet with the death of many. 

     "Will," Maggie said, her voice feeble. Her hand shook as she gently stroked his cheek. He looked at her and blood began to trickle out of the corner of his mouth.

     "I failed," he said, breathing heavily. "I failed you, Maggie, forgive me." Maggie shook her head as her eyes were blurred with tears.

     "You fought valiantly," she insisted. "There is nothing to forgive." 

     "I could've triumphed," Will said, his breaths becoming shorter. "I paid no attention, and I failed -" 

Maggie continued to shake her head and stroke Will's pale cheek and his hair.

     "You are a true knight of Nottinghamshire," she said, looking him in the eyes. Maggie heard Edric approaching, but she did not take her eyes off of Will.

     "And you a daughter," he said after a few gasps. "I would have loved you to the end . . . My Magdalena." Will's breathing came to a stop and he spoke no more. Maggie leaned down and gently kissed Will's mouth, then she held him to her chest and began to sob quietly.

     Will's funeral was that of royalty. Maggie and Edric were at the head of the funeral procession as they journeyed to the eastern shore of England. Maggie wore a black dress with a veil, and she hardly spoke to anyone. When they were about sixty leagues from the Wash, Edric looked at Maggie.

     "I found this in Castilettio's pocket," he said softly. Maggie looked at him and he held his hand out to her. In his palm, completely unharmed, was the garnet necklace Will had given Maggie. She swallowed and touched it while it was still in Edric's palm, and then after gently taking it in her own hand, she rested her head on Edric's shoulder.

     "I thank you," she said. Edric stroked her hair soothingly and their journey continued.

Epilogue

 Will's body was lain in a punt, with his hands folded across his chest and his sword under his hands. Maggie and Edric were the ones to push the punt into the water, and it floated away, into the North Sea. Maggie and Edric were married after Maggie's mourning period of sixty days. Maggie always wore the necklace Will gave her, but that does not mean she was not in love with Edric. This is inaccurate beyond all means. They loved each other deeply and eventually went on to have three children, the oldest being a boy named after Will. Maggie and Edric raised Maggie's younger brothers and sisters, and they paid off the debts of the citadel and lived there happily till the end of their long days. 

Thus, we reach the end of the story of the Knight of Nottinghamshire.

     

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