The next morning Muriel awoke with a sense of dread. The scenes of the night before continued to replay over and over in her mind and she could still smell the rotting stench of torn flesh that had dripped from the boys wounds. There was no way a wolf could have injured him in that way, Muriel told herself, he must have been delirious… maybe a rival clan attacked him in the darkness of the forest…
Whilst she rehashed the events another memory surfaced and nagged away at the back of her mind, and no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, it kept coming back stronger than ever.
It was her wedding day.
She had to marry the son of Lord Rose.
Muriel shuddered and looked up at the ceiling high above her bed. She could hear Elizabeth pottering around in the side room that led off her bed chamber and she wanted to call to her, demand to know if she had heard this wicked information of how she was practically being sold into another family, no doubt in exchange for lands and allegiance. But, deep down, she knew there was no point in torturing herself. Her fate, as they say, was sealed.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes as she looked around the room and realized with a crashing sense of reality that it would be the last time she awoke there. Who knew where she would find herself the following day… she didn’t even know where the Rose Clan originated. Maybe she would be travelling on horseback with them for days and be spending her wedding night in a cold, soggy ditch, longing for the safety and familiarity of Cawdor.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said aloud.
“What’s that Lassie?” Elizabeth called to her from the side room, as she poked her nose around the door.
“This is it,” Muriel said as she swung her legs down onto the floor, “I take it you know about what’s happening today?” She felt the accusation fill her voice.
Elizabeth looked down at the ground and sighed.
“Aye,” she said solemnly, “Your mother visited me in the early hours to tell me of their plans.”
“And?” Muriel demanded.
“They’ll come for you this evening, as the sun sets,” Elizabeth said, “And you shall be wed to Lord Rose…”
“And then what?” Muriel swallowed.
“And then he’ll take you back to his land,” Elizabeth sighed, “And you will begin your true journey as a Lady and a wife.”
Muriel felt the tears prick the corners of her eyes. She was so frightened, but also so completely exhausted… the emotion that the situation was stirring for her was unbearable.
“Don’t be sad Lass,” Elizabeth assured her as she crossed the room to her and rubbed her shoulder tenderly, “We all have our own paths set out… and who knows what may come to Cawdor in the coming months… you will be safer out of the way.”
“But… my brothers?” she stammered.
“They’ll be fine,” Elizabeth smiled, “Strapping young laddies like them will thrive in any trouble, mark my words.”
Muriel had the distinct feeling Elizabeth was telling tall tales, but she had reassured her none the less. Muriel smiled and leant in for a hug. She would miss this old woman and the way she cared for her, even if at times she had driven her close to madness.
“Enjoy your last day as a Calder,” Elizabeth said, “For tomorrow you will be Lady Muriel Rose.”
Muriel felt the hairs on her arm stand on end and for the first time in her entire life she started to really think about what being a wife would mean…
Her last day at Castle Cawdor passed by like any other. Muriel tried to push to the back of her mind what would be taking place later in the day, and she sat with her brothers and watched them play fight along the hallways outside the Great Hall. None of them asked her about what would be happening that evening and she began to wonder if any of them even knew that at the same time the next day their only sister would likely be miles and miles away.
She smiled as she watched them fondly and remembered their time together as children and then, as the afternoon began to give way to the late hours of sunlight she made her way back to her bed chamber where Elizabeth and her mother were waiting.
Laying down across the bed was a white gown, full and long, with fluted sleeves and a plunging neckline. White flowers were lying in a wreath next to it, entwined with Ivy, and Muriel walked over to the bed and picked it up.
“This crown of flowers,” she smiled, “Is beautiful.”
“Ivy represents fidelity,” her mother said warmly, “Always remain faithful to your husband Muriel. We women don’t have the same rights as our men.”
She said it so seriously Muriel felt shocked into submission. She had never truly considered the actual severity of the vows she was about to take… she was going to be someone else’s possession… she was going to belong to a man and she would never be able to act how she truly pleased ever again.
“Lord Rose is a strict man,” her mother said as she wound the lacing around the back of the dress and pulled it tight to emphasize Muriel’s tiny waist and luscious curves, “You mustn’t displease him.”
Muriel gasped for air and clawed at the lacing but her mother batted her hands away. She had a smirk on her face which seemed to suggest that she was taking some kind of warped pleasure in seeing her daughter distressed.
“You look beautiful Daughter,” her mother said coldly, “Now come… it is time…”