"I waited too long," Ian said to no one in particular. Pacing around the room Ian was very aware that his inaction had caused Michael undo pain.
The sun had set hours ago, and the fatigue showed as Ian pulled up the video one more time before turning in.
It showed the pain and suffering of a man bereft of hope.
How many of us could hope to begin to understand the pain of this kind of loss?
How many of us could come through with our sanity and humanity intact?
Ian closed down his computer and walked slowly from the room.
The castle, built in the 8th century, was part of the legacy.
If you were called this is where you lived, the castle and the surrounding grounds had been the home of the chosen for the last eleven centuries.
Each step that Ian took was a step another had taken before him; each step was an echo of one that would come. The past, present and future lived in the halls of Nogardshire Castle. If a place could have a soul then surely this was that place.
Closing the heavy oak door Ian slumped against the frame. Time was finally beginning to catch up with him. Ian looked in the mirror across the room and could hardly recognize himself.
Always athletic and energetic, Ian Norris Smyth, the Lord of Nogardshire had lived an interesting life.
Born to Colin and Margaret Smyth, Ian's childhood was as good as could be expected during that time in England.
Colin was a hard working blacksmith, Margaret worked as a midwife; together the three of them lived in a 2 bedroom flat on Woodlea Rd just south of Clissold Park.
Ian grew up knowing what it was to be loved. Knowing that hard work and sacrifice were required to keep a steady path and make ones way in the world. Those lessons were as true then as they were today.
The cognac had a satisfying warmth going down as Ian absently admired the unique Baccarat crystal decanter of the 'Black Pearl' Louis XIII. Limited to only 786 carafes it was a unique gift that Ian appreciated more that he could ever tell Millicent.
He wished Millie were here now.
Times like these were always easier when she was at his side. Someone to talk with, someone to hold, someone who knew him and the burdens he bore.
She would be back from Istanbul tomorrow and he would fill her in, until then it was just he and Louis.
As rain lashed at the windows, Ian settled into the chair by the fire, hoping its warmth would drive away the cold clammy hand that had grabbed his heart as he watched Michael screaming over the coffin of his family. ...............
"My Lord" Cedric said for the third time as he shook his masters shoulder.
The sun had been up for quite some time and Ms. Millicent would be home in less than an hour, 'his lordship would want to be presentable when she arrived,' Cedric thought.
Ian stirred, his dreams had been convoluted, images of the past; battles waged on mist laden fields, a journey by ship across an azure sea. Meaningless and yet, at the same time...feeling...familiar.
Cedric smiled down at Ian as the last vestiges of sleep let loose their hold and his eyes opened.
"Oh god, its you Cedric, what time is it?" Ian asked as he rose slowly from the chair, his muscles screaming in protest at being held for too long in the same position.
"Almost 8am," Cedric replied as he opened the curtains and let the diffuse light from the overcast day spill into the room.
It was a quintessential Lords room.
Dark cherry paneling covered the walls, high arched windows let in the eastern light. An oversize canopy bed dominated the center of the room across from the massive stone fireplace.
"Could you bring me some coffee and a muffin please?" Ian asked Cedric as he moved into the bathroom.
"Of course sir" replied Cedric, closing the door as he left the room.
The hot water felt good, easing the tension out of Ian's muscles and reviving his spirit.
'Michael will survive,' he thought as he lathered his body.
