Exile's Return (Book 1) (41 page)

‘Oh, and you think that makes a difference? You know the saying, Finn: the best time to kick a dog is when it’s down.’

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ Finnlay grumbled, but he couldn’t disguise the smile on his face. ‘By the way, did you read that passage about Bonding? Where is it?’

He rifled through the papers until he came up with the right manuscript. He spread it out and ran a finger down the script until he reached the point he was looking for. ‘Yes, that’s it. You know how we’d always assumed the Budlandi lost the meaning of Bonding centuries before the formation
of the Enclave? Well, it turns out we were the ones who lost it, back in the first days of the Enclave. Remember they had a fire which destroyed most of the library they brought from Bu? Well, the whole thing was listed down in there. The reasons, pairings – everything. Only a few of them still exist.’

‘But Bonding was just their way of arranging marriages, Finn. What has it to do with us?’

‘Where’s your curiosity? I thought you were a historian. Listen. I’ll have to translate as I go, but … um … Yes,
To the blessed god of thunder and rain be given the right to Bond together these two, whose mutual tenets will remain undivided to the end of their days. Theirs will be a
 …
er
 …
happy and fulfilled union
 – or something like that –
and once joined as such will be indivisible by any mortal. Those whom the gods have chosen are Bonded from birth and must by all faiths and determinations, fulfil their destiny together. For those who are Bonded will be no other.’

Finnlay glanced up. ‘Sorry about the translation. I’ll do a proper one once that doctor lets me out of this bed. By the sound of it, Bonding was meant to continue even if we knew nothing about it. Perhaps you and Berenice were Bonded …’

Robert couldn’t sit there any longer. He got up without a word and strode to the door.

‘Robert? Wait!’ Finnlay climbed out of bed and stumbled across the room. ‘What did I say?’

How could Robert explain? How could he even broach the subject? Keeping his thoughts reined in tight, he shook his head sharply.

‘Please, Robert,’ Finnlay put his hand on the door, blocking Robert’s exit. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

Slowly, painfully slowly, Robert turned his head until he met Finnlay’s gaze. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Finn. Go back to bed.’

But Finnlay wouldn’t let him go. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it? Is it about Berenice? About Bonding? What …’

His voice trailed off, and abruptly, Finnlay took in a sharp breath. Silently, Robert willed him to forget it but didn’t
dare reach out and push the thought away. Finnlay would sense the interference. But he could not – must not – put the pieces together!

This day, the gods were not with Robert.

‘You
were
Bonded to Berenice!’ Finnlay breathed, his eyes widening in shock. ‘That’s what the Key told you, isn’t it? But how can that be dangerous?’

That was enough. Robert snatched Finnlay’s hand away from the door and spun him around. Without pausing, he propelled him back to the bed. ‘You’re still delirious, Finn. I’m sorry but I can’t discuss this further with you.’

But Finnlay struggled, ‘Stop it, Robert! All right, I know you can’t tell me – but why? Why don’t you ever speak about Berenice? Ever? You refuse to marry again, even to get an heir. Why? Is it because you were Bonded? Is it because she died? Is this the dangerous thing? Was there something else the Key told you? Please, Robert, tell me what happened!’

‘No!’

Finnlay’s eyes flared with anger and he did something entirely foolish. He grabbed Robert’s arm and focused all his meagre powers to hold Robert still. Like swatting a fly, Robert unleashed his own powers and slapped Finnlay backwards on to the bed. Instantly he regretted it. Where had his control gone? All those years schooling himself and now, just like that, he’d come so close to losing control of the demon!

Robert clenched his fists and took in a harsh breath. ‘You want to know, do you? You think if I tell you, if I talk about it, then it will all go away. Well it won’t, Finn. Not ever.’

Now there was no anger in Finnlay’s voice, in his eyes. There was nothing but calm, and perhaps even pity. ‘Did the Key name Berenice?’

‘Of course not!’ Robert snapped back, then paused. That was the closest he’d ever got to speaking about any part of the Key’s message.

‘Then how do you know it meant Berenice?’ Finnlay crept
forward, pressing his advantage. ‘Why won’t you tell me what happened?’

Robert closed his eyes and straightened up. He was drained, of energy, of will, even of desire to keep the truth from Finnlay. This had gone too far and now there was only one way to stop it. For ever.

He opened his eyes to find Finnlay watching him carefully. Slowly and with painful precision, Robert began to speak. ‘When I got back here, she was already ill with a fever. She was drenched in sweat and crying out with the pain. The doctors could do nothing for her so, believing I could help, I sent them away for a few minutes. We were alone but she didn’t know me. She didn’t recognize me. She just held her belly and cried out for the child she carried. I wanted so much to help her, to comfort her, so I took her hand, brought out my
ayarn
and reached forward to ease her pain. I sent my senses out, touched her and the child. For a moment it worked. Then something seemed to take hold of the power and twist it around. I couldn’t control it and before I knew it, Berenice screamed and died in my arms.’

Robert took in a deep breath, his eyes still on Finnlay. ‘I killed her, brother. I killed my own wife.’

*

The chapel bell rang twice, paused, then rang a third time. Its baleful sound echoed across the sandstone cloister and floated up to the abbey church beyond. Within the square, a tall oak spread its branches to caress the cloister roof and cover the grass below with shade. A brick well stood in one corner of the square, capped by a wooden lid now littered with a fine sprinkling of dust.

Lady Margaret Douglas gazed down on the cloister from her room above and watched as a novice approached the well and began drawing water. From up here, it looked like Sister Helen, with her long, fine fingers and square set shoulders. She wore the habit of the House, grey robe and black mantle, with the white veil of the novice. Against the shaded backdrop, the veil looked almost luminous as it caught the sunshine, a halo of soft linen. Margaret looked
away and up over the top of the church to where the peaks of the surrounding cliffs rose towards the mountains. The air was clear and fine up here, so far from town or village. When Saint Hilary had founded the abbey more than two hundred years ago it had been her wish to separate the order from the daily trials of ordinary life. For the first fifty years that wish had proved hard to fulfil, with the abbey completely cut off for almost all of the winter months. Hilary had died an ancient woman of eighty, her bones resting under the altar of the church, and since then a small but strong community had grown up around the abbey. They were still cut off and most definitely separated from the rest of the world, but there was less of a struggle to survive. Saint Hilary’s was isolated, remote and very peaceful: the perfect retreat for a widow unable or perhaps just unwilling to cast aside her mourning.

A flicker of movement on the ridge above caught Margaret’s eye and she watched it for a moment as it came closer and separated into the shape of two riders. As they came down the steep slope Margaret found she could recognize at least one by the flaming red hair which floated around in the sunlight. The other man could therefore be only one person. She waited a little longer, then turned and made her way downstairs to the reception room.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Margaret smiled. ‘Heavens, Robert! Two visits in less than a month! What can you be thinking of?’

Her son moved forward and took both her hands in his. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his face cold from the ride. ‘I thought you might be missing me.’

‘And Micah!’ Margaret took a step forward. ‘How are you? I haven’t seen you since you got back. Are you pleased to be home, or is it a little dull after the exotic climes of the last few years?’

Micah bowed over her hand. ‘You are looking radiant as ever, Lady Margaret.’

Margaret shot a glance at her son. ‘He’s learned to be courtly, Robert! What have you two been up to?’

Robert took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm, then led her through the door and out into the sunshine. ‘I do my best but there are some things I just have no control over. Unfortunately, Micah is one of them.’

A quiet chuckle from behind told Margaret that Micah followed them. She glanced aside at Robert. Her eldest son appeared to have weathered winter without harm. He looked well, if not necessarily happy. Every time she saw him, however, it struck her how much he looked like his father. More than a handspan taller than she, Robert sported the same wavy dark hair which occasionally glinted with auburn in the light of a summer sunset. His brow was clear and graced with the same level eyebrows which were so expressive of his moods. Robert had even inherited his father’s green eyes, though a darker hue. His straight nose and wide, generous mouth gave way to a firm jaw and when laughing, made her think that Trevor did indeed live on in his son.

And there was something else Robert had inherited: his father’s charm. Or was it charisma? Something both men had in full measure, Robert perhaps even more. It was a quality that made people trust and believe in him, made him an easy hero to worship. A quality that made him attractive in more ways than one. But, unlike his father, Robert had always remained completely unaware of the effect he had on other people.

Yes, he was handsome, this son of hers – handsome enough to make even a few of the novices notice when he came to visit. However, not knowing him as Margaret did, there were a few things they did miss. Like the way there was no spring in his step any more, nor any glint of genuine delight in his sea green eyes. Robert put on a good performance, but mothers are not so easily fooled.

‘You know, Robert,’ she said after a moment, ‘my sisters here are very disturbed by your constant visits. It took days for them to get over the last one.’

For a moment, Robert looked a little startled and she had to smile. He had a dry enough wit himself and was therefore surprised when someone else used it on him.

He grinned. ‘Afraid they’ll throw you out, mother? I’m surprised they haven’t already.’

‘I’ll thank you not to cast aspersions on my character. I’m your mother, show some respect.’

They took a path along the garden edge which wound between hedges of lavender and rosemary then up to the potters’ kiln on the other side. From there Margaret could see her favourite panorama of the mountains and the narrow valley in which the abbey lay.

‘This is a nice spot, isn’t it?’ Robert said, gazing out at the view.

Margaret let go his arm and sat down on a tree stump which still clung tenaciously to the rocky ground. ‘You say that every time you come up here. Forgive me, my dear, but is there a specific reason you came? Not that I’m complaining, I just wondered. Is anything wrong?’

Robert glanced over his shoulder at her, then at Micah, who dusted off a neighbouring tree stump for himself. ‘I thought I’d let you know how Finnlay was.’

‘You’re not bored, are you?’ Margaret couldn’t help herself. There was always something about Robert’s detached calm which encouraged her to prod him. She knew Finnlay felt the same way about Robert, but he saw it more as a challenge.

‘Bored, mother?’ Robert raised his eyebrows in mock horror. ‘Never. I came to tell you how your younger son is. Duty, mother, duty.’

Margaret nodded, but smiled nonetheless. ‘And how is Finnlay?’

‘Much better. He’s up and about now, even if he does still need rest. But that’s what you get for riding off to Marsay in the spring rains.’

Margaret felt her good mood dissipate as quickly as frost on a hot day. ‘He went to Marsay?’

Robert shrugged. ‘There was little I could do to stop him, short of forbidding him.’

‘Then you should have.’ Margaret stood and clasped her hands together in a gesture designed to encourage patience.
‘I know we’re far from everything up here, but we do hear what happens, at least within the Church. We know all about Bishop McCauly and that fool Brome. Saint Hilary’s is afire with gossip about it. I should have thought you’d have more sense than to allow your brother to go walking into a mire like that. Why, anything could have happened.’

Robert turned and gazed down on her with easy reassurance. ‘Mother, he was all right. Finnlay just went to find out for himself how bad things really were. No one knew he was there. You don’t need to worry.’

‘Worry?’ Margaret almost laughed at the suggestion. ‘Ever since the day I decided to come here and leave you two alone at Dunlorn I have worried about you. And you have given me cause – not least because at times, I thought you would actually kill each other. But I was determined to leave you to your own lives. But worry? Why should I worry, Robert? After all the things you’ve done, the places you’ve wandered, the Kings you have upset, why on earth should I worry?’

Robert laughed and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on her forehead. ‘Oh, mother. What would I do without you?’

Margaret drew back from him with a slightly acerbic smile, ‘I can give you a list, if you like. And don’t give me that worldly, comforting smile, Robert. Neither you nor your brother can be trusted – Micah will support me on this, won’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t dare contradict you, my lady.’

With a glance at the young man, Margaret returned to her tree stump. She wasn’t really angry, nor even irritated. The simple fact that Robert had allowed Finnlay to go to Marsay told her that her sons were finally on reasonable speaking terms. For the moment, that was enough. Clasping her hands together on her lap, she asked, ‘So how are things at home?’

‘Why don’t you come back with me and see for yourself?’

‘I can’t, Robert. You know why.’ Margaret gazed at her
son for a moment, wondering if there was some other reason why he had come all the way up here to see her.