PART EIGHT
~ My Darling – My Life And My Bride ~
The Hendocia Horde.
The young woman was still standing next to the tomb as people from her tour walked past her, talking about something called The Hendocia Horde. They had been over in the settlement area, listening to the guide shout over the wind about the ancient Kingdom of Hendocia and how, back at the turn of the last century, the Victorians began poking around in the ruins and came across an underground vault filled with treasure.
The Hendocia Horde was still, to date, one of the richest archaeological finds in history, second only to Tutankhamun. It was, literally, an Aladdin’s Cave full of ancient gold, at least according to the guide.
Now, the tour for this site was finished and the guide was herding his tour back onto the bus. They brushed past the young woman still standing next to the tomb, heading for the car park where anther tour bus had rolled in and people were emerging from the vehicle, all dressed in yellow rain slickers to distinguish themselves from other tour companies. The young woman noticed the yellow-slickered tourists as they headed towards the seaside tombs and the ruined settlement but she didn’t give them much thought. She was still wrapped up in the story of the young maiden buried by the sea and her lover, the pillar that was lodged beside the tomb, now worn down with the centuries of wind and salt.
The maiden and her Northman lover.
Off to her right, she could hear the boyfriend and his parents bringing up the last of the tour group as they headed to the bus. The mother talked so loudly that it like was listening to the gulls overhead scream; blah, blah, blah is all the young woman could hear as the mother told the boyfriend and his father how she was positive her family came from the Picts along these shores. The young woman moved to the other side of the tomb so they would pass her by, or hopefully just leave her behind, but no such luck. The boyfriend called out to her as they walked past.
“Coming, Annie?” he called.
Annie wanted very badly to ignore him, or tell him that she never wanted to see him again. She didn’t want any more to do with the bossy parents and wimpy boyfriend. But she had to be realistic; looking around, she could see that they were, literally, in the middle of nowhere, so finding a ride back to the hotel might prove to be a challenge.
So she had to go with them unless she wanted to be left out here with no way to get back. The truth was that she really didn’t care much if she made it or not, because her connection to this tomb, to this entire site, was something she’d never experienced before. It was a powerful sense of déjà vu that kept her near the tomb and the odd thing was, she kept looking out to sea as if expecting something, or someone, to make an appearance on the horizon.
Her deep blue eyes lingered on the distant horizon; how many ships had this coastline seen over the centuries? How many Northmen had come to these shores, raiding and fighting? Except for one Northman; the one who had fallen in love with a daughter of Hendocia. That man had come to stay, according to the legend. Looking at the pillar, she wondered if he was still here.
Annie made her way around the tomb, running her hands on it, feeling that same odd buzzing in her body when she touched the stone that she had felt the first time she’d touched it. An electrical current, she thought. It was the only explanation. What else could that sensation possibly be?
Coming around the corner of the tomb that sat along the path to and from the car park, she noticed all of the tourists in their yellow slickers following a man who was speaking both English and some other kind of language. Some kind of Scandinavian language, Annie thought. The people were pale, fair-skinned, all wrapped up in those yellow slickers as they walked past her, buffeted by the sea wind.
In the distance, she could see the boyfriend and his parents as they headed for the bus, with the boyfriend lifting his hand in her direction to wave her on. Realizing her time with the tomb was now at an end, Annie felt a tremendous sense of loss. She had no idea why she felt so desolate, so sad simply for leaving an ancient tomb behind. She ran her fingers over the bluebells one last time, memorizing the shape and feel, before pulling out her phone and taking several pictures of the bluebells and of the tomb itself.
Now, her bus was honking its horn, calling for her, and she put the phone away with the pictures tucked safely inside on the memory card. She would look at them a lot in the years to come. With one last lingering touch on the tomb, she went back to the footpath and started heading towards the bus.
Annie wasn’t ten feet from the tomb when the last of the yellow slicker group came by her and she happened to glance at the last man and noticed he was carrying bluebells in his hand. The bluebells jolted her and she came to an unsteady halt, look into the face of the man who was carrying them. He was tall, and blond, and decidedly Scandinavian looking. He had a square jaw and a big dimple in his chin.
He walked past her, smiling into her face, while she stood there and stared at him like an idiot. She had no idea why she should look at the man so, or why the bluebells in his hand had jolted her, but she came to a halt as he walked by and he, too, slowed his pace as he turned to look at her.
There was a glimmer of something in his blue eyes just as there was a glimmer of something in hers. Something deep, of longing, of ages past…
… a memory?
“There are bluebells on that tomb over there,” Annie said, pointing to the boxy tomb several feet away. “Where did you find those growing around here?”
The man let his tour group go on without him. He turned and took a few steps back in Annie’s direction. “I didn’t find them around here,” he said in a heavy Scandinavian accent. “I brought them with me.”
Annie was being pulled towards the man by forces she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t even stop to think that she was being pulled towards him as her legs began to move in his direction. Suddenly, he was walking at her and she was walking at him. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it, simply two people being pulled together.
But our love it was stronger by far….
“Oh,” Annie said, drawn to the man’s features, a face that she thought she might have seen once although she couldn’t remember where. In a dream, perhaps? “I… I was thinking that if you’d found them around here, I might pick some and put them on that tomb because the woman inside must have liked them if she had them carved on her tomb, so… wow, sorry, I’m just rambling on. Go enjoy your tour. And nice flowers.”
Embarrassed, and bewildered by her reaction to the man, she started to turn away but he stopped her.
“It’s so odd that you would say that,” he said, closing the distance between them as she stopped and turned around. “Actually, that’s exactly where I was going to put these flowers. On that tomb.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked. “Why?”
He shrugged, unable to take his eyes off her. “Because I was here last fall with my father and I heard the story of Annabel Lee and her lover,” he said. Then he laughed. “You know that they really push that poem around here.”
Annie laughed softly in return. “I know.”
The man continued to grin at her for a moment longer, mesmerized by her smile, before continuing. “I don’t know… maybe you’ll think I’m weird, but I felt really compelled to come back here and put flowers on her tomb,” he said. “Bluebells, like the ones in the stone. Maybe that tomb has the same effect on other people, being as the legend behind it is so sad.”
Annie could only nod her head. God, had she heard that voice before? It sounded so familiar to her, a sweet baritone from deep within the recesses of her memory. He sounded so incredibly familiar to her but she couldn’t pinpoint how, or why, she knew him. Of course, it was impossible that she did. Maybe she was just imagining things.
“It is very sad,” she said. “But very romantic. I’m Annie, by the way. Ann Leigh.”
The young man laughed. “Like the poem!”
She blinked, cocking her head with thought. “Hey,” she said when she realized he was right. “It is like the poem. I never even thought about that. In fact, I’d never heard that poem until today.”
He smiled at her, warmth glittering in the pale blue eyes. “It is a beautiful poem,” he said. “So appropriate for this legend.”
“Very true.”
The horn from the bus blared again and Annie knew she had to go, but gazing into the man’s eyes, she clearly didn’t want to. She wanted to stay and talk to him, to listen to that beautiful, rich tone. She’d never been more sorry to leave anything, or anyone, in her life.
“That’s for me,” she said, throwing a thumb in the direction of the bus. “I have to go. It was really sweet of you to bring those flowers for the maiden. Wherever she is, I’m sure she appreciates it.”
She started to back up, walking to the bus, but the man followed. “Maybe,” he said. “I’m just doing it because it felt like it needed to be done. But now that I look at you… I’d rather you have them. You’ll appreciate them more than an old tomb.”
He was extending the flowers to her and she came to a halt, hesitantly reaching out to take them. “Are you sure?” she said. “You waited months to bring them back here.”
He smiled as she took them, holding them to her nose. “They belong to you,” he said quietly, sincerely. “My name is Ron. Ron Brosskaar. It’s very nice to meet you, Annie.”
Annie smiled broadly. “It’s very nice to meet you, too,” she said. “A fellow human who is influenced by an old legend and a crumbling tomb.”
Ron laughed. “It’s pretty strange, that’s for sure,” he said. Then, he sobered, his gaze boring into her. “I don’t mean to be forward, but are you here alone? If so, I… I would really love to talk to you again. Maybe over dinner?”
Are you here alone? She might as well have been. The connection with her boyfriend was gone. She was coming to realize that, made worse by the domineering parents. Any guy who would let his parents take over like that wasn’t the guy for her. Although she had been considering flying home, alone, now she wasn’t so sure. She certainly wasn’t someone to be disloyal to anyone, and she didn’t bed-hop from one lover to another, but her attraction to the Scandinavian guy was so strong that she couldn’t resist it. It was taking her over completely. The man had known her all of two minutes and, already, he’d given her flowers.
Bluebells…
Perhaps it was a sign.
She was willing to go on a little blind faith no matter how foolish it seemed.
“I’m here on a tour,” she said, a semi-truth. “I’m staying at the Sir William Fox hotel in South Shields.”
His smile grew. “I’m not far from you,” he said. “I’m staying at the Best Western. There’s a bar down the street called the Magpie’s Nest. If you’d like to meet for drinks before you go, I’d love it.”
Annie didn’t even hesitate. Nothing was going to keep her from meeting Ron for drinks, for dinner, or anything else. Clutching the bluebells to her chest, nothing in her life had ever felt so right. To hell with the ex-boyfriend and his demanding parents; Annie could see something in Ron’s eyes that she’d never seen anywhere else, something warm and inviting and attractive. Throwing caution to the wind, she simply nodded.
“Tonight?” she said.
“Tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Swear it.”
Odd how she felt as if she’d heard those words before, too, somewhere down in the depths of a murky dream she’d had once. The sense of déjà vu she’d been experiencing was only growing stronger.
“I do,” she laughed. “At ten?”
“I’ll be there.”
The bus honked one last time, long and loud, and Annie grinned at Ron one last time before she took off running.
Ron stood there and watched her get onto the bus and continued watching until the bus pulled out of the car park and headed up the road. Only when it was out of sight did he turn away, moving back down the path towards the cluster of tombs and the ancient settlement. He was lost in thought, overwhelmed with meeting a woman he swore he had met before, but much the way Annie had felt about him, he had no idea where he could have met her. She was clearly American; he was clearly not. Nay, it wasn’t possible that they had met before.
He was simply glad he’d met her now.
The tomb with the bluebells was off to his left and he paused on the footpath, seeing the faded bluebells carved in the stone. He’d meant to leave the bluebells on the tomb but he didn’t feel badly at all in giving them to Annie.
Ann Leigh.
Something told him that he’d given them to the person they’d been intended for all along.
* THE END *