Introduction The Highlander canon seems to be an amorphous thing, changing to meet necessity. From the first film to the Highlander series, new information has been added to the canon by screenwriters to make interesting stories and to get around problematical details. With this in mind, I am adding my own details to the canon. Purists may accept or reject my premises, but this is the foundation upon which I am building my story arc of Amanda. In my version of Immortality, an Immortal ages one year for every hundred of human years, until they reach the mystical, magical age of thirty-three, at which point they stop ageing. If an Immortal is already older, she/he doesn't age at all. When reading this story and its sequels, this fact will become more important, and the reader is asked to suspend any preconceived notions about Immortality until the final installment (which may be years away, sorry).

Disclaimers & Copyrights: The characters of Amanda Montrose (Darieux, etc.), Rebecca Horne are copyrights of Davis/Panzer Productions and Gregory Widen. No infringement of their rights is intended nor is any income expected from this story. The story plot is original and is copyright to Maril Swan.

Part One of Five

Neustria (Normandy), Late Summer - 846 AD, The Abbey of Ste. Geneviève - just after Compline (late evening)

Moonlight silhouetted the two figures as they skirted the Abbey wall. The taller one dragged the other by the sleeve, as they crept close to the old greystone building. Its castellated bulk loomed with the brightness of daylight, the details of the rough stone standing out in high relief.

"I never should have let you talk me into this," the smaller one whispered urgently, her face in the moonlight a lurid mask of dread.

"Hush," her companion hissed, "Do you want to get caught?" She pulled the other impatiently toward a dark opening in the Abbey wall. Moonlight flashed on her triumphant smile as she found the wooden door. She cursed and her friend gasped. It was locked.

The smaller one began to whimper, "Now we're for it. How shall we get in?"

Wan light glinted on something metallic that the other pulled out of her gown. With much twisting and scraping at the old lock, the tall one finally exclaimed, "Ah, it's open!"

It took their combined strength to push the unused door open enough to gain entry. The rusted hinges squealed alarmingly loud and the two girls held their breath, but there was no sound from above. They shoved the door closed and found themselves in such total darkness, neither moved for several seconds. The dank mouldy smell, with the inky blackness that surrounded them, induced a sensation of claustrophobia, a few seconds of panic.

"Amanda!" Margareth whispered fearfully. "Where are you?"

Amanda felt something warm brush by her face, and gasped, then realized it was only Margareth's hand, reaching out to find her. She grasped her friend and tugged her along, feeling for the wall. The absence of light was disorienting, but Amanda found the wall, then stubbed her toe on the bottom step of a stone staircase.

"Come on, Margareth," she whispered encouragingly, "We're almost there."

Holding firmly to her friend with one hand, Amanda felt along the wall with the other. They stumbled up the stone staircase with no light to guide them. On one side was the reassuring solidity of the stone wall, on the other was black nothingness. One misstep and Amanda knew they would plunge into the deep stairwell, to injury and possibly death. No one would find them here as this entrance had not been used for many years. It was meant to be an escape route in case the old Abbey was attacked.

Amanda felt her hand jerked back suddenly, and nearly lost her balance, as Margareth stumbled and tripped, almost dragging them both into the dark abyss. She found her friend with her other hand and pulled to assist Margareth back onto her feet. Margareth was panting with fright, weeping and trembling.

For several seconds, they leaned against the stone wall, regaining their equilibrium and then, resumed the precarious ascent into the blackness. Amanda bumped into something solid as she inched her way upward. The door into the Abbey! It too was locked. She again produced the piece of metal, searching with her fingers for the opening of the lock. She could hear her friend's nervous breathing behind her, and Amanda knew Margareth was scared almost insensible by the darkness and the fear of discovery. She felt a momentary qualm about involving her friend in this escapade, then pushed it aside as she concentrated on picking the lock.

"Amanda," her friend wailed, "I think I'm going to faint." Amanda pushed Margareth roughly against the wall.

"No, you're not! Stay there and be quiet!" she said harshly. Turning back to the door, she found the lock aperture and carefully turned the metal piece, listening for the rusty tumblers to click into place. Her own breathing was laboured and her hands trembled. She carefully pushed the door. It cracked open with a long drawn-out creak.

Pale moonlight from the clerestory windows spilled into the blackness of the old stairway. She heard Margareth's audible sigh of relief. Grasping Margareth's hand, she slid through the doorway and into the Abbey corridor. Not much further now, before they reached their cell and safety.

Margareth seemed like a dead weight as Amanda hauled her along the corridors. Her friend's strength had deserted her as she wobbled along behind Amanda, nearly falling several times. She dragged Margareth up the stone staircase that led to the postulant's cells. On the top step, Margareth teetered alarmingly and Amanda caught her around the shoulders, taking the smaller girl's weight, and half-carrying her along the dimly lit hall.

With a carelessness born of urgency, Amanda rushed along the corridor and turning a corner, collided with Sister Immaculata who was carrying a candle while making her rounds. The nun shrieked as she fell heavily onto the stone floor, her spare figure prostrate and her wimple askew, covering her face.

Margareth pulled back as if to pick up the nun, but Amanda dragged her away and they raced down the corridor, turned again at the end and rushed into their own cell. Looking at Margareth's stricken face, Amanda began to laugh. All the tension of the last hour surged through her as she fell onto her cot, giggling hysterically, unable to control herself. She sobered immediately as heavy footsteps resounded in the corridor coming toward their room. They dived into their cots, and pulled up the blankets, feigning sleep. Their door creaked open and Sister Immaculata stood there, silently appraising the two sleepers. She closed the door and her footsteps died away.

"Amanda," whispered Margareth vehemently, "This is the last time. The very last time. I'll never let you talk me into anything like this again!" she added furiously. Margareth pulled the blanket about her firmly as she heard Amanda chuckling in the dark.

****

The two postulants stood before the Mother Superior, their eyes focussed on the floor, their hands clenched at their sides. The old nun sat at a table which was covered in scrolls, studying the two accused. Behind her, the stained glass windows shone multicoloured patterns on the flagged floor. The taller girl seemed to be examining the coloured spots, as if oblivious to the serious trouble she was in. The other girl trembled as tears coursed down her cheeks.

The door opened suddenly and Sister Immaculata limped in, her stern face grimacing with pain. Mother Superior wondered if there was an element of exaggeration in her anguish.

"Are these the two?" Mother Superior asked the other nun.

Sister Immaculata glared from one to the other, and pointed at Amanda. "That one, for certain. The other I'm not sure of. It was dark and I couldn't see after I was pushed to the ground."

She seemed about to continue but Mother Superior held up her hand. "That will be all, Sister. I will deal with this." The sister turned with a grunt of pain, and hobbled out the door, closing it behind her.

Mother Superior looked at the girls, and finally said, "Amanda, did you push Sister Immaculata down in the corridor last night?"

"No, Mother," she replied, looking squarely into the old nun's eyes.

"Margareth, was it you who pushed Sister Immaculata?" Margareth's lip trembled and she shook with fear. Her guilt was apparent and Mother Superior sighed heavily. "It is a grievous thing to harm another, especially one of our holy sisters," the nun began, "And you shall be punished severely for this, Margareth. For your penance..."

Amanda cut in quickly with, "Mother, it was not Margareth. It was me. I knocked Sister Immaculata down in the corridor. Just me. I was alone."

Perplexed, the Mother Superior watched as Margareth's tormented face showed her evident relief. Had Amanda lied before or was she lying now to protect her friend? She pursed her dry lips and asked, "What were you doing in the corridor when you should have been in bed?" Amanda remained silent, so the nun turned her attention to Margareth. Maybe something could be got out of her. "Were you with Amanda last night in the corridor?"

Margareth's face paled and she mumbled, "Yes, Mother."

"What were doing there, Margareth?" asked the nun, her voice rising with some exasperation.

"We were going back to our room, Mother," Margareth answered, her tremulous voice barely audible.

Mother Superior slammed her fist onto the table, making both girls jump. "That is no answer!" she snapped. "What were you doing out of your cell at that time of night? I will have the truth!" Her voice rang loudly in the small stone walled room and Margareth seemed about to faint with fright.

"We had been outside, in the town, Mother," Amanda said. "It was my idea. I wanted to see the entertainment and made Margareth go with me. We got back in through the door behind the Abbey. While getting back to our room, I accidentally ran into Sister Immaculata. That is the truth."

Spots of colour stained the old nun's cheeks as her sharp eyes hardened and narrowed with suspicion and anger. "And were you meeting young men outside the Abbey?" she asked harshly.

The girls exchanged a puzzled glance. Amanda answered, "No, Mother. We went to the town square to watch the puppet show." She smiled slightly at the nun who scowled at her impertinence, and biting her lip, looked down again at the floor.

Mother Superior sighed with relief, her anger mollified slightly. She was sure Amanda was telling the truth. But to sneak out of the Abbey after curfew was a grievous breach of the postulant's rules. The girls must be punished severely, if for no other reason than as a warning to other postulants. "I think you know you must be punished for this misdemeanour. You will have the penance of silence for one month—you may not speak to anyone, nor will they speak to you. You will be separated as you are obviously a bad influence on each other," she said, looking pointedly at Amanda. "You will beg Sister Immaculata's forgiveness, and will do whatever work she assigns you for one month..."

As Mother Superior enumerated their penances, Amanda's heart sank. The penance of silence was the hardest of all penances. Amanda was a gregarious girl with many friends. She was well-liked. To be shunned by all and to keep silent would be almost intolerable. The other punishments would be easy compared to this. And the loss of her best friend, Margareth, that too was harsh. Amanda wondered as she listened to Mother Superior what menial work Sister Immaculata would devise for them. She had not long to wait to find out.

Summoned into the presence of Sister Immaculata later that morning, Amanda and Margareth awaited their punishment. "In your first few months here, Amanda and Margareth, you have not learned obedience. You, particularly, Amanda, have flouted our authority and shown no regard for our rules. So it is up to me to teach you obedience." Sister Immaculata smiled with pleasure. "As you obviously want to be outside the Abbey, you will spend the next month working on the Abbey farms with the serfs in the fields. In the evenings, you will serve all the meals and clean up afterwards. You will not speak to anyone but me, and only when I address you. Is that clear?"

The girls mumbled their acquiescence, and were dismissed to begin their duties. The backbreaking toil of the serf was altogether foreign to Margareth who came of a privileged family and had never done physical labour. She suffered from aching muscles, blistered hands and from the relentless long days of picking rocks, pulling up weeds or pushing barrows of manure to spread on the fields. Though Amanda had done this type of work before, in her home village, she too found it taxing. She had hoped by going into the convent, she would never have to do this sort of hard labour again.

Neustria, Early Summer - 848 AD, The Abbey of Ste. Geneviève - just after Compline (late evening)

With a warm loaf tucked under her arm, a furtive figure skulked down the Abbey corridor, and ducked into a dark doorway, a second before a couple of Sisters passed by, chatting quietly. From another doorway across the hall, a pale hand beckoned and a young woman, peering warily in both directions, slipped across and into the room. A chorus of giggles accompanied her entrance as several postulants, all wearing the grey wool habit, surrounded her. She tore chunks of bread off the loaf and handed them around. The girls devoured them hungrily, avid for more.

The door suddenly slammed open and Sister Theresa, the bakery nun, pushed her ample bulk into the room, her usually affable round face scowling at the group of young women guiltily munching on the stolen bread. "I might have known it was you," she thundered at the bread thief. "Come with me! Mother Superior will hear of this." She dragged the terrified postulant by the sleeve, and added, "The rest of you will have severe penances for your part in this wickedness. For shame, all of you!" She shook her head and her jowls trembled in anger.

****

Next day - around 11 a.m.

"Well, it's finally come to this!" The old nun pursed her lips severely as she regarded the girl standing anxiously before her. The young woman hung her head, her hands worrying the rope that girded her postulant's habit. "Be still!" the nun commanded.

The girl dropped her trembling hands to her sides, and studied the pattern of the flagged floor, awaiting the sentence that must follow her latest misdemeanour. She bit her lip nervously, her mouth dry. An annoying tickle in the back of her throat made her want to cough, but she feared to make any move, any sound. The Mother Superior had never been so furious!

"Amanda!" the Mother Superior said at last. "What will become of you?" Her voice, though angry, was tinged by compassion. She sighed heavily as she studied the young woman before her. Lanky and angular as a young colt, and as wild! At only seventeen, she was fair of face with a cascade of raven-black hair, and though thin, her body showed the promise of the generous feminine curves more maturity would bring. With those saucy dark eyes in that beauteous face, she would soon face many temptations. The nun shook her aged head, regretfully. What indeed would become of her?

"I have had many postulants and novices here in the Abbey who needed discipline and patience," she began, her voice edged with exasperation. "But you, Amanda, have exhausted all my patience, all my resources. Scarcely a day goes by that someone does not complain of you, that you do not transgress our Rule."

She heaved another sigh and continued. "It seems that no amount of punishment or penance can deter you from your wild impulses. You are a careless, reckless girl! And you drag others into your folly, so they receive punishments too. You follow your own whims without a thought of the consequences, to yourself or to others."

"We have tolerated your misbehaviour and tried our best to correct you, Amanda. But what we cannot tolerate is a thief! You have gone beyond the pale this time!" Mother Superior placed her folded hands upon the table, as if she were about to pass judgement.

Amanda held her breath, expecting yet another long penance on her knees in the Abbey chapel, or deprivation of food, or isolation in her cell. It was a familiar litany after two years in the Abbey. Most of the young girls who had entered the Order with her, had already passed on to become novices. But Amanda had been unable to adjust to the rigorous discipline of convent life, the enforced structure on her days and hours. So she remained a postulant until Mother Superior deemed her worthy to progress in the Order. Amanda wondered what form her punishment would take this time.

"Amanda," Mother Superior said flatly, "I must expel you from the Abbey."

Amanda's stricken face paled and she gasped. "No! Please. Reverend Mother, please give me another chance. I will mend my ways. I promise. I have been happier here than anywhere in my whole life. Please, do not send me away!" Her dark eyes were wide with alarm as she pleaded with the old nun. She dropped to her knees onto the cold flagstone floor. "I will take any punishment, do any penance. Give me another chance, I beg you." Hope alighted in the young woman's face as the Mother Superior's eyes softened momentarily.

The Abbess loved this wayward child almost as if she were her own daughter. She felt very keenly her own failure to bring this wild girl to the grace of God, to instill in her the discipline and piety the Order demanded. Sending Amanda back to her family was the hardest thing she ever had to do since she had become Abbess. She gripped her folded hands tightly and firmed her resolve. "It is too late for repentance or apologies, Amanda. Perhaps it is partly my own fault that you behave as you do. I have been too lenient with you. But, the matter is no longer in my hands. Late last night we sent a messenger to your parents. Your father is waiting with a cart, outside the Abbey gates to take you home. Go and gather your belongings, Amanda."

As Amanda arose, adjusting her grey wool postulant habit, the door opened to admit a tall severe-looking nun who bustled in and bowed respectfully to the Abbess. She shot a triumphant glare at Amanda, as if to say, 'so we are finally to be rid of you'.

"Sister Immaculata, you will say one hundred Ave Marias for that unkind look. Now, what is it?" the Abbess asked sharply.

"The postulant's father sent a message asking that his daughter come soon, as they have a long ride, and he wishes to be home before dark." Sister Immaculata bent her head as she spoke but the flush which rose to her sallow cheeks told of her loathing for the expelled postulant. She pressed her thin lips together as if to stop herself from giving further vent to her antipathy.

"Thank you, Sister. You may go." The Mother Superior looked down briefly at the table and Sister Immaculata narrowed her eyes at Amanda, smiling maliciously.

Amanda put her tongue out at the Sister, just as the Abbess looked up again. The Sister rushed from the room before earning herself another penance.

"Amanda," the Abbess said, shaking her head ruefully, and smiling slightly in spite of herself, "You are incorrigible!" She arose from her table and went around to embrace Amanda fondly. She released the girl and said, "My dear child. Do not think of this time in the convent as a failure. You simply do not have the temperament for this estate. So, it is to the other estate that you must go. Marriage."

Amanda suddenly felt cold inside. "Marriage, Reverend Mother? I do not wish to marry." She fell back a pace as if looking for an escape.

"I spoke to your father earlier this morning. You have been betrothed to a lad in a neighbouring village. His family has a prosperous farm, and they are willing to welcome you. In due course, Amanda, you will have to accept the responsibilities of dutiful wife and good mother. Marriage is an honourable estate, sanctified by God." The Abbess studied the wild, desperate look in Amanda's eyes, and felt a fervent sympathy. Continuing gently, she added, "Of course this is a bit of a shock for you, all at once. But this is what your father has arranged for you. Your intended husband has been carefully chosen, and you may reasonably expect to be happy with him."

"How can I be happy with a man I don't even know, Reverend Mother?" The young woman took a deep breath, drawing herself erect and stated, "I will not marry!" An implacable look set in her dark eyes.

"Amanda! You will learn obedience!" the Abbess said sternly. " If not from me, for I have failed you, then from your husband. It is his duty to guide you and help you attain the state of grace to enter Heaven. You must obey him, even if you do not love him. Perhaps a man will have the strength, which I did not, to curb your wildness. You will do as your father wishes, and you will be married."

The Abbess said this last with such finality that Amanda seemed to abandon all thoughts of rebuttal. With a last despairing look at the Abbess, Amanda said forlornly, "Yes, Reverend Mother."

As she turned toward the door, the Abbess called after her, "You will always be in my prayers, Amanda. God go with you. And always remember, if you ever need me, this holy ground will be your sanctuary."

****

Amanda carried her few possessions tied in a shawl as she walked for the last time down the corridors of the Abbey. The other postulants and novices averted their eyes and did not speak. It was a great humiliation to be expelled, an example to others who flouted the Rules of the Order.

As she passed her best friend Margareth, Amanda gave her a tremulous smile which, though against the Rules, her friend returned. She was being cast out, but at least she had one friend who would grieve for her and remember her. Tears prickled behind her eyes, but Amanda vowed she would not give vent to them.

Pulling herself up straight, she marched out the Abbey doors, through the courtyard and out of the gates where a horse and waggon stood waiting in the blazing summer sun. After the dimness of the Abbey, the bright sun hurt her eyes, and she shaded them while walking toward the rough cart.

A man sat hunched on the bench, the rigid set of his back informing Amanda her father was in a wrathful temper. He looks older, Amanda thought, as she approached. His hair is whiter and thinner, and he seems to have shrunk into himself. It had been two years since she had seen her father, and she felt a certain sadness at the changes that time had wrought in him. She had always thought of her father as a big, strong man, his strength deriving from his trade of master mason. Her father's hands always held a fascination for her, with their callouses and misshapen joints. For all their apparent clumsiness, her father handled the tools of his trade with dexterity. He had been much in demand as a stone mason for any major building, even working for a time on the Saxon cathedral at Aachen.

With the money her father earned by his trade, her family were thought of as wealthy. They were respected in their small town of Mont Rose as one of the leading yeoman families. Her older sister, Cloris, had married well and her brothers, Edgar and Aelfric, followed their father's trade. Her mother, Elspeth, enjoyed the esteem of the villagers, priding herself on her own piety and good works for the less fortunate in the community.

Only Amanda proved an impediment to her continuing to preen herself in the estimation of those she considered beneath her in class. Amanda had engaged her parents in many disputes with their neighbours with her numerous misdemeanours and misadventures. Families and clergy complained of her risk-taking, daring other village children to follow her dangerous exploits, with many a broken bone the result.

Local merchants accused Amanda of stealing their wares, sweets and pastries, of which she was sometimes guilty. Whatever mischief occurred in the village, Amanda was usually deemed the culprit. It was more than her mother could bear. Amanda must go. And, as her father felt she was too young to marry, the only place a fifteen-year-old girl could go was the convent.

Accordingly, Amanda was sent to the nearby Abbey, there to learn piety and self-discipline. But, though the Order was strict and the discipline was rigorous, it had not bent Amanda to its will, not abated her high-spirited joie de vivre. She had tried very hard to keep the required silences, to fast though her stomach rebelled, to be on time for the many services of the day from Matins to Complines, to show the proper respect to the Sisters. Amanda chafed under the exacting and ordered life of a postulant. She longed to be free of authority, feeling like a race horse yoked to a plough.

Sometimes, her rebellious spirit could not be contained and she broke the Rules, led raids to the kitchen to supplement their meagre diet and generally, got herself and others into trouble with the nuns. And though punishments were meted out and penances exacted over and over, she would impulsively act on some spirited caprice and land in trouble again.

After two years in the Abbey, Amanda had begun to feel this was her home, this holy ground. She was happier than she had ever been. If only she could have learned to control her impulses, to keep the Rule as other postulants had done. But, she had not, and was now paying the price. Remorsefully, she thought to herself, this is all my own fault. I caused Mother Superior much anguish, and now I am expelled from the only place I was ever happy. She sighed heavily and the sound attracted her father's attention.

He scowled, and mumbled gruffly, "Get in, girl." Amanda climbed onto the bench beside her father, and without another word, he flicked the traces over the horse. With a jolt, the waggon started along the rutted track, back toward her village, and her old life. To face the ridicule of her neighbours, and the wrath of her mother.

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach as she thought of her mother. Amanda had to admit she was afraid of the woman. She had not spared Amanda many beatings and punishments for her misdeeds, the retributions being out of proportion to the offense. Amanda felt her mother hated her. Her earliest memories were of feeling outcast in her own family, a stranger among them. She did not resemble anyone in the family. Amanda often thought this was the reason for her mother's preferment of the other three children. Her parents and siblings were big-boned people, of the Celtic race they said proudly, with ginger hair and ruddy complexions. She was slim, fair complected and dark-haired. She looked like no one else in her village, being taller than all of the women and most of the men.

Amanda winced inwardly as she remembered the taunts of the village children regarding her different appearance. They called her witch's child and changeling, and much worse. The adults treated her no better. She had been accused of many things she had not done, and been punished for misdeeds of which she was innocent, while the perpetrators jeered at her later. These injustices had created many a scuffle with the village children and had ended with Amanda again being punished as the instigator. It seemed to Amanda that she could do nothing right, even when she was in the right.

She glanced at her father, his gnarled hands gripping the reins so tightly, his knuckles showed white. She loved this taciturn man. He had tried to protect her against her accusers, been her only defence against her mother's hot temper. Without him, her young life would have been more miserable. She always felt his love as a shield against those who hated her. Now, she wondered, has even he turned against me? As the miles rolled under the waggon wheels, father and daughter preserved a strained silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, her father seemed to shake himself as if coming out of a reverie and heaved a great sigh. "Ye've brought great shame upon us, Amanda," he said curtly. "Bein' expelled from the convent. Even the holy sisters could not keep you, put you on the right path." He shook his head morosely. In profile, his face was austere with a great hooked nose under thick brows whose sandy colour was fading to white. His amber eyes were deep-set, intelligent and canny. A white-flecked red beard hid his chin and mouth.

Staring straight ahead, he continued, "Ye're mother will not have you under her roof no more. At least whilst you were in the Abbey, I had some peace with that woman. Now, she's been at me to get you married and out of her sight." He slid a glance at Amanda. "Maybe marriage will get you over your childish nonsense and teach some obedience. Lord knows I couldn't," he said bitterly. "It's time you learned your place as a woman, Amanda. You'll be married in a fortnight. The banns are posted," he added with finality.

Despite the warmth of the summer sun, Amanda felt chilled to her marrow. Her life was turned upside down, and going in a direction not of her choosing. Desperately, she searched for an idea, an escape. But there was nothing to be done. It was settled. She would be married. Resignedly, she asked, "Who am I to marry, Father. What is he like?"

"His name is Iggabod. He is a yeoman farmer's son from the village of Wessingford. I spoke to his father earlier today and they agreed to take you. He's a strapping lad, strong as an ox, " and about as smart, her father added under his breath.

Amanda heard the muted comment, her spirits sinking. Big and stupid, she thought hopelessly. What am I to do? I cannot go through with this. I would rather die. "Father, I do not want to marry this man. I will marry someone, but, please, let me choose for myself. I will not stay at home. I will hire myself out to a farm, as a milkmaid or a sheepherder. You will not have to worry over me again. But, please, don't make me marry this man."

Even as she pleaded with her father, Amanda could see by the way he clenched his jaw more firmly, he was not to be moved by any entreaties. "The banns are posted, the dowry agreed upon. Do not bring more shame on us by breaking a promise of marriage," her father ground out angrily. More gently, he added, "Iggabod's father has settled some land on him and he will be a good provider for you and your bairns, when you have them. This is for the best, Amanda. You could not do better for yourself. So, be guided by your elders and do as you are bid." He lapsed again into a grim silence, contemplating the rutted waggon track along which they travelled.

On either side of the road were the farms owned by the Abbey. Labourers sweated in the fields, the women and children stooking sheaves while the men scythed the grain. Muted singing reached them from the workers which normally gave Amanda gladness. But she hardly heard their music or felt the warmth of the mid-day sun. All the joy in her life seemed to have vanished this day as she rode away from the Abbey and into a bleak future.

****

Hours later, the waggon topped a high point of land. The view was a spectacular sweep of rolling hills and small farmsteads demarcated by stone fences. A sparkling river wound its way through the valleys like a silver thread. Several villages edged the river, small clusters of cottages from which the smoke from cooking fires rose lazily into the warm, summer air. The villages were divided by a large woods which followed the river, flanking the hills and marching partway up the hill they were riding down.

Amanda could see her own town from this vantage point. Her stomach jumped with fear as she realized they were close to her home and her mother. She wasn't ready yet to face her mother, and the angry tirade which would surely follow. Anxiously, she looked around for an escape. She leapt from the waggon with her pack, and ran downhill towards the woods.

Her father, too taken aback at first to speak, jerked the cart to a stop, and yelled after her, "Amanda, come back here." But, by the time he had reacted, the girl had already disappeared into the woods, and his words were lost on the gentle warm wind. He plopped down onto the bench, striking his thigh angrily, "Devil take the girl," he growled, then quickly crossed himself against the curse, as he feared it would come all too true.

Amanda heard her father call, feeling a moment of guilt, then rushed into the familiar woods she had roamed since she was a child. The sudden tranquillity of the forest was a balm to her troubled spirit, its quiet soothing to her ears after hours of the creaking, jolting waggon. She was hungry and thirsty, her father not having thought to bring food or drink, and her mother, of course, would not have offered to prepare it. But the forest provided a feast of raspberries and strawberries, which assuaged her needs somewhat. Amanda wandered aimlessly for a long while, picking and eating the fruit until she was satisfied. She sat down on a flat rock, leaning her back against a tree, drinking in the calm green beauty of the woods, the bird songs, the gentle rustle of the trees in the wind. And fell into an untroubled sleep.

****

Something tickled her cheek and she awoke with a start. A cobweb stuck to her hand as she brushed at her face. The web was shredded but its tiny weaver still struggled to spin the silken thread as she shook it to the ground. It was nearly dark, and Amanda knew her father would be looking for her. She should have been home hours before. Her heart sank with the realization that she was in trouble, again.

Picking up her pack, Amanda strode quickly through the darkening woods, following familiar paths and markings that she and her playmates had made many years before. She found the bridge of fallen logs they had rolled over a narrow part of the river, and which few had dared to cross, none of the village children being able to swim. Amanda stepped carefully onto the slippery, mossy logs, and with the prospect of a cold dunk into the swift flowing river on either hand, made her way to the other side.

The accomplishment exhilarated her, and she laughed aloud as she stepped onto the soft muddy bank. Keeping to the woods, she circled behind the village, and came to the back of her own cottage.

Their home was her mother's greatest pride. It was the best in the town, being made of stone, hewn and laid by her father. The cottage was larger than most, sturdy and warm. The thickly thatched roof was in good repair, and housed many bird's nests.

With the ease of long practice, Amanda found the footholds in the rear wall of her cottage, and hoisted herself up to the narrow slatted opening near the apex of the roof. She pulled the cover off and wriggled through, noticing that she did not fit so easily as she had two years ago. Quietly replacing the slatted cover, Amanda turned to view the loft that had been the children's sleeping area. It seemed so much smaller, and she had to bend to keep from bumping her head on the ceiling.

Amanda had no plan in mind how to present herself to her parents. She could hear some noises below and knew her mother was in the house. The door banged suddenly and she jumped, startled.

"Well, Elspeth, I don't know where she has got to," her father's angry voice rose through the cottage, his tone conveying worry and exasperation. "I've looked everywhere." A chair creaked as he slumped into it.

"And you argued against marrying her!" Her mother's strident voice seemed to beat around Amanda's ears, memories of that voice being accompanied by a slap or worse resounding in her head. "See what your coddling has led to? She listens to no one, not even the holy sisters."

Her mother paused, then added harshly, "It was an evil day when you brought her to us. I've always said so. She's a witch child. A changeling. Even for all the money, it has not been worth the woe she has brought into this house."

Amanda felt as if her heart had stopped. She was rigid, frozen, as she listened to her parents. Are they talking about me? she thought wildly. It must be someone else. I am their child.

"Elspeth, that money has helped us through many a hard time, and given us more comforts than I could earn with my trade. And to say fair for Amanda, she has been a joy most of the time. Yes, she is wilful, and high-spirited...

" "Willful and high-spirited!" her mother retorted. "She is wicked, nothing less. The sooner she is gone, the happier I shall be. I wish Iggabod good luck with her. He will need it. I will even let him have this, for all the good it has ever done." Amanda heard her pick up something and knew it was the leather strop with which she'd had many a painful encounter.

The chair scraped on the flagged floor as her father got up. "Well, I shall go out and look for her again."

"You'll probably find her lying in some hayrick with a village lad," her mother jibed. The door slammed loudly, then there was silence.

Scarcely breathing, Amanda seemed suspended, unable to move or think. What had she witnessed? The people she called mother and father were not her real parents? They had been paid money to keep her? It couldn't be true! Sinking to the loft floor, with an anguished sob, Amanda trembled and wept silently, trying not to be heard below. She would not give that woman the satisfaction of knowing she had finally dealt her a blow she could not withstand. For long moments she shuddered with pent-up grief, over her expulsion from the Abbey, the enforced marriage and worst of all, the loss of her family. It was a sham, all of it. She had been kept for money, not for love.

Finally, Amanda straightened and wiped her face. Staring emptily into the dark loft, she came to a decision. Arising quietly, she slipped down the ladder into the main room. A candle burned on the table, casting dancing shadows against the stone walls. At the far end of the sparsely furnished room, a woman dozed in a chair, her mending in her lap. Something disturbed her slumber and she opened her eyes, and started as if she'd seen a ghost. The momentary fright was replaced with anger.

"Well, Amanda, " she demanded harshly, "Where have you been?" Her mother's face was more pinched and severe than she remembered. The sandy red hair of which she had been so proud had streaks of white all through. Her body, at only age thirty-five, was bent and slack with child-bearing. Only three of her many children had lived to adulthood. The others had died at birth or of some childhood disease. Amanda could not remember her ever having smiled but knew she had few teeth. "For every child, a tooth," the saying went, and it held true for her mother. To Amanda, who had not seen her in two years, she looked old and worn.

"Your father has been looking for you for hours, you wicked girl. Where have you been?" Her mother stood up, grunting painfully with rheumatism.

Amanda pointed to the loft, her eyes cold and distant. She would not pity this wreck of a woman.

Elspeth sucked in a sudden breath. "How long?"

"Long enough to hear everything," replied Amanda coldly.

Elspeth recovered quickly from her surprise, and keeping her voice level, said, "It's best you should know. You must have wondered why you don't look like any of us."

"I wondered, and now I know. I also know you never wanted me. It was for the money. My keep was paid for by someone. Who? My real mother?"

Amanda's voice was flat, emotionless, though Elspeth could see by the redness around her eyes that she'd been weeping. A flash of pity softened Elspeth's eyes momentarily then she continued to regard Amanda with stony indifference. Coolly, she answered, "We don't know who the woman was. She said she was not your mother. She has sent us money by courier every Michaelmas. It came from Paris. That is all I know."

"What did she look like?"

"She was young, red-haired and just under your height. They seem to grow tall in the north," Elspeth added irrelevantly.

Amanda studied the woman she had called mother. She wondered how she could ever have feared this person over whom she towered now, and who seemed old and spent. She realized what she feared was the loss of her love more than any harsh punishments Elspeth had dealt her. But now she knew she was never in danger of losing that which she never had.

"I shall not marry the man chosen for me," Amanda said levelly. "I am going away. I shall trouble you no further." Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she turned toward the door.

It seemed that as Elspeth was about to realize her fondest wish, she had some misgivings about letting Amanda go. She sighed heavily, and said, "I have not loved you, Amanda, it is true, as your father has. I did try, but could not. You were not my own child. When you came to us, you were so dark and fey, I was afraid. I feared you were a faerie child. As you grew up, you were so different from other children, so wild. I prayed for you, but you seemed to be drawn toward wickedness. I did what I thought was right, but it has come to nothing. Now you will go out into the world of temptations, and with your untamed nature, I know not what will happen to you. I fear for your soul."

Amanda waited, hopefully, for Elspeth to ask her to stay, but she did not. Instead, Elspeth went to a small cupboard, pulled it out from the wall, and feeling behind it, withdrew a small leather bag. It jingled as she walked toward Amanda with it.

"This is your dowry, Amanda. I saved it from the money sent for you. Take it. You will need money if you are travelling."

Amanda stood uncertainly watching Elspeth, aching to embrace her one last time, but unable to move. Elspeth placed the leather bag into her hand and stepped away. It was heavy with coins.

Elspeth's usually strident voice softened as she said, "What will I tell your ...tell Cedric? He will be worried about you."

"Tell him I hope the money has been worth it."

Continued in Part Two of Five