Chapter 71: Forgiveness
The carriage, painted in black finally reached the northern lands.
Juniper was watching the landscape out the window, agitated by all this.
He looked at the sky covered with gray clouds, the cool and soft ground, the lacustrine smell of Scottish waters, the large coniferous forests that stood out on both sides and he thought.
Those lands were his father's lands which he and his mother had been forced to leave.
He had abandoned them since he was ten years old, he had never returned there.
He was thinking of Abigail, of her curious nature, of his beautiful Irish bride so attached to nature that she almost seemed to be one with it.
He missed his wife, he loved her so much and could not afford to lose her.
He had brought their son Rudolph with him, had saved him.
The little boy was now there, in the arms of his nurse, trembling and moaning from the cold, which he was not used to enduring.
Sometimes small sneezes came out of the baby's little nose, the nurse tried to keep him calm from crying and warm, but Juniper could not risk losing his son, the child he now accepted as his own.
So he took off his precious jacket from his body, handed it to the nurse, lightly smiled.
Apart from two baby blankets, he had nothing else with which to cover the baby's body, so, folding it, the young Baron offered the woman to cover Rudolph with his jacket, at least for the moment till the little one would have received blankets and warmer clothes.
Juniper endured the cold, he was used to it, he was born and raised there and became resistant to it.
But little Rudolph still had to experience the world and he also had too much to discover yet.
He had barely begun to look at his surroundings, to recognise the faces, the baby adored his mother and in his heart, Juniper knew he would miss her.
They could not do otherwise, on the other hand, the baron loved Abigail, with all his heart and did not feel to remarry, to exchange her with another woman, whom he already knew he would not love as much as her.
It was useless to even try, he just had to wait, try not to forget her, for the moment that was all he was capable of.
He already knew once he grew up, Rudolph would place the blame for what happened on him and that once in his life it would be his job to explain to his son that he was not his biological father.
Their blood was not the same, they had nothing in common, as it was clearer and clearer day after day the little one resembled Gilbert more than anyone.
He had the same auburn red hair colour as his father, the same grey eyes, the difference between him and Juniper was evident.
On the other hand, life, genetics, were all left to chance and in Rudolph's case it happened that he mostly resembled his father.
Juniper had never put up with Gilbert, neither before nor after his death, but he knew it was his job to take care of the enemy's son, he had to do it, at least for Abigail.
In addition, living all that time with him, having seen baby Rudolph be born, the Baron soon began to feel a certain affection and familiarity towards the child.
On the other hand it was he who gave the name "Rudolph" to the little one, a name whose meaning was glorious and so it was, it always had been, from his first cries, from the first time he had held his son in his arms , had been showered with glory and divine benevolence.
Juniper slowly and gently caressed his soft hair.
They smelled of milk, caramel, something sweet, something good.
The child had now begun to rest, he had slowly closed his grey eyes, Rudolph was breathing through his small upturned nose and from his parted lips little moans came out.
He was dreaming, still unaware of everything that was happening around him, the Baron hoped he dreamed of many beautiful things.
He deserved it, he was a small, sweet child who had recently learned to lift his head on his small neck, resting on his elbows and half of his small chest.
But now he was there, comfortably warmed and leaning against his nurse's chest and dreaming, with so much sweetness and imagination that only an innocent child like him could have.
Rudolph was the son of a general, but Juniper hoped in his life the little one had cultivated more passion and peacefulness than love for war and battle.
No, this wouldn't have happened, it would have been too dangerous for him to even get close to a rifle.
That child was his son, he had to protect him.
The carriage stopped slowly, calmly and gently, so much so that at a few moments the Baron's attention was distracted from the little one.
He turned and saw it, situated on a high, verdant hill, the fortress of Edinburgh which had long belonged to his father and grandfather before him.
That fortress guarded the complete history of the baronage of Scotland.
That castle had for centuries formed Barons and Baronesses who over time had ruled the North until obviously it fell into the wrong hands.
But now his uncle was dead or at least that's what his cousin had reported.
But by now Isabelle wasn't too much to trust, so he simply decided to take his first steps into his land with great caution.
One of the coachmen soon opened the carriage door, allowing the lord to enter his fortress.
He had to be quiet, cautious, one misstep and he would have put both him and Rudolph at risk.
Juniper couldn't afford it, he couldn't let someone hurt the people he loved, not again.
A white path of cold gravel guided the steps, the soles of the man's leather shoes, up the hill.
It was still cold, August had just passed and on his curly golden hair a sky full of grey clouds covered the clearness of the day.
Juniper went slowly up the hill and as he felt the first cold and delicate droplets of rain fall on his face he finally felt at home.
That cold on his pale skin, that salty taste of raindrops, the cold that enveloped his body and his lungs and the gentle wind that pushed his blond curls.
He was at home, he knew and felt it.
The Baron arrived in front of the heavy and woody entrance door, it was large, enormous, precious and had a heavy knob of pure gold on it.
The Edinburgh fortress was enormous, its high walls of ancient stone, its roof of solid and majestic black tiles, it was there where Juniper was born, there he grew up, that was his home.
The servants of the Scottish barony soon, upon the arrival of their lord, prepared to open the doors of the castle, to bend over to him to call him for once "lord" and not just "cousin" or "Juniper" as he was now used to to be.
He was seventeen and he was a lord, he had always been, ever since he was still in his mother's womb.
He was born to be a lord, he had always wanted that.
-My lord- one of the attendants called him from one side of the heavy and large door -excuse me, but I'm afraid there is not much time left ...-.
At that strange statement Juniper was struck, a long time for what?
He was a Baron, a noble, his mother was the late king's younger sister, a princess, he had royal blood in his veins, he was entitled to all the time he wanted.
But once these thoughts were gone from his mind, he began to think what the problem might be.
He was certainly a noble but he was also a human being, he would have worried about anyone who was so much in need at that moment.
-Your uncle is not feeling well at all, his condition is getting worse hour after hour, it was his last wish for him to meet you, before leaving this world...-.
At that statement anger and fear mixed in Juniper's body, his cousin had lied again and in this way she had put his life and that of little Rudolph at risk.
So was this her plan? Don't kill them but let someone else do it for her?
Isabelle was evil, without any heart or feeling, her conscience was empty, she never used it, but on the other hand Juniper remembered her pact.
He and his son could have escaped only if they never returned to English lands.
But the Baron was sure he would go back South, yes, to see Isabelle's head cut from side to side.
That man, dying, was the one who had taken the life of his father and mother and had hunted him for so many years.
But on the other hand his paternal uncle was dying, so he would have no more time left except to apologise for all the bad he had done to him.
He accepted, although he did not want to hear an apology from that man's mouth, he wanted to see him die and slowly see the sinful soul burn in the flames of hell.
On the other hand, that was his place, the place of someone who had caused harm to others throughout his life.
Juniper got closer and closer to the room, he passed in the wide corridors, illuminated by the faint light of the thousand candles lit on the precious chandeliers.
He was sure of his actions, never like he had been before.
The old Juniper was gone, the traumatised, frightened, shy Juniper was dead now, now he was no longer the same person: that new Juniper wanted revenge, for all that bad had happened, to free himself from this burden and be free.
He entered the room, it was bright, large, cold and as he entered the attendants let him spend some time privately with his uncle.
The young Baron kept himself ready if he ever had to react.
Juniper saw the figure of the man up under the white blankets, leaving only the face of that one out of them.
He was in the big bed, Juniper knew that it was the bed of his father and his occasional lovers, but now it belonged to that man, that killer had no right to be there.
The young man approached the man's body, he was old, his face was covered with dark spots of melanin, more dark than the others, he was pale.
The man had gray hair, like the cloudy sky.
He cracked a smile as he saw his nephew approach him, he seemed happy, relieved to finally see his brother's son after so many years.
-Juniper...- came out of the old and chapped lips of the man -you are finally here-.
The young Baron got cold shivers just to see the man.
He had promised himself many times to kill him and now there he was, here was his chance, he had him dying, in front of his eyes.
But that wasn't enough for him, why was that man smiling? Was it the sadism of killing both of his parents or what?
But the man with the last air in his throat, continued to smile and Juniper could not stand this, he had to die, painfully and slowly, in order to feel on his skin all the harm he had done in his life.
-How come you smile?- the young Baron asked the uncle critically, placing his expressive blue eyes away from him -do you not know that you are about to die? Yet you smile...-.
That man took a better look at his nephew's face, his blond curls, but in particular his blue eyes, he recognised them, they seemed to remind him of something far away.
He held out a hand to the young man's face and with one of his fingers pointed to indicate his eyes.
-That look, the colour of your eyes, you inherited it from your father, they were the same as my brother's- those words seemed to be spoken full of shame and resentment.
How dared Augustus Whiteblossom dared to talk about Juniper's father? He had killed him, he died because of him, just like his mother and yet he still continued to regret the past.
-How... dare you ...- came out almost like a slow hissing from the tight lips of the young Baron -how dare you talk about my father again, when his life ended because of you-.
Augustus was expecting such an answer to his sentence, on the other hand Juniper had every reason to be angry with him, on the other hand he had taken the life of his nephew's parents when Juniper was still a child and he could not argue with this.
He pursed his lips, he wanted to speak, but as death approached him it was more and more painful to emit even a single sound.
The man lowered his gaze, he seemed sad, full of remorse -you are right- he stammered, having difficulty in speaking -you are right, but your father too, once he took away from me what was most precious to me-.
The young man opened his eyes wide, almost surprised, even he had never loved his father, when he was still alive and it was hardly strange to him that he had committed such an act.
-What do you mean?-Juniper asked maintaining detachment and still hidden anger he was not surprised now, no more, by nothing.
-Manfred took away from me my wife, my children, they were all away, in a short time, their ashes flew into the fire that night...- the uncle began to cry, he remembered the past even if it hurt him.
-I'm really sorry for everything my father did to you- the young Baron admitted turning his gaze to the deep emptiness of the room, it was clear to him that his uncle wanted to receive his forgiveness before his death.
-I had once, even before you were born, three children, a boy and two girls, they were my joy, my children...- the man continued to explain, immersed in his own nostalgia as in his last breaths the 'air and the words were tightening in his throat -your father was so obsessed with you taking power that he made my children disappeared, one night, in a cloud of cool and dark ash-. Augustus admitted as he began to cry more -Your father was my nightmare, Juniper, my nemesis, I could not let him go after all this, I could not forget or omit, I had to kill him-.
With those words, the dry and narrow throat of the man without too much time made him spit from his lips, as well as a weak cough also hot and fresh bloodstains.
He was sick, he was dying, but on the other hand he felt the duty to express his feelings to someone in the last moments.
-Why did you killed my mother then? She was just twenty-five and a ten-year-old boy to grow up, she had done nothing wrong to pay for it with her life...- asked the baron as a last question, he wanted to hear those as last words of his uncle.
-Pain makes you stupid and aggressive, remember that Juniper, I wanted to kill you once because my heart was hard as a stone, for fear and pain many wrong choices are made...- a silence rushed into the room.
The young Baron turned towards his uncle, he did not breathe, no longer, his body was pale and cold, he was dead.
Augustus had died with his eyes open, looking at the sky and his mouth still ajar to say words, which sadly had been strangled in his throat.
Juniper grabbed the white blankets that covered the surface of the bed, pulled them gently, covered the old man's face.
His uncle had suffered, because of his father, and had been honest enough, on the verge of death, to admit his faults.
The baron respected sincere people, people who knew how to accept their mistakes and even though he did not intend to do so, in his heart he had forgiven him.
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