Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) (25 page)

“You’ve naught to fear, here. Come sit with me on the hearth. We can be warm and comfortable there.”

He stood and, keeping a hand on Henry’s shoulder, walked with him to the hearth. Sorcha paced beside the two, grabbing up a pillow from the bed to toss onto the wide hearth. “Sit here, Henry.”

Colin glanced at Ranulf, who stood to one side of the hearth and twiddled his thumbs. The knight nodded, and Colin knew the man would listen but make nae comment until he was asked.

Colin sat beside Henry, who cowered against Sorcha as she stroked the boy’s hair and murmured soothing noises.

“Tell Lord Strathnaver what happened to you.”

Henry tipped his head to look up at Sorcha. “Must I? ʼTwas horrible enough to live through that. I dinna want to speak of it.”

“I know, Henry,” she crooned. “But the earl needs to know what Lady Agnes has done to you so she can be properly punished when he catches her.”

Eyes wide, Henry turned back to Colin. “You’ll punish her?”

“I most certainly will. First you must tell me what happened.”

Henry sniffed back the brimming tears.

Sorcha handed him a kerchief before he could soil his sleeve again.

Then the lad swallowed. “She hit me an’ locked me in the cupboard in her bedchamber.”

“That was a terrible thing to do. When did this happen?” Colin asked.

Henry nodded. “This last time was two days ago.”

“She’s done this before?” Colin saw rage in Sorcha’s eyes that matched his own.

“Aye,” Henry confirmed. “But ʼtis the first time she hit me.”

Colin hugged the boy. “I’ll nae let her hurt you again. I promise. Now tell me why she locks you in the cupboard.”

“She thinks I canna hear what she says when I’m locked away.”

“But you can?”

The boy nodded again. “Aye, her and everyone else who’s in the room talkin’.”

“Were others with her the day she hit you?”

Henry gulped. “Only Sir Broc that I saw. And one other man who came in after I was in the cupboard. I could nae see him, and he kept his voice low. I could hear, but I’d nae know his voice.”

“Did Lady Agnes address the man by name?”

Henry shook his head. “I’d ha remembered.”

“What do you remember?”

“Before the man I didna know came in, Lady Agnes was shoutin’ at Sir Broc. Tellin’ him they were ... undone. Which makes nae sense to me. But she was in a lather because while she was away in the village a cat had knocked her precious box on the floor and it broke open, spilling out everything. I’d been trying to put it all back before Lady Agnes returned, but I wasna quick enough. She thought I was the one who broke the box so I could steal her things. But I wouldna want those musty old letters, and her rings and earbobs are copper covered over with silver. Who would want such cheap, ugly stuff?”

Colin suppressed a grin. “None I ken, Henry. When she found you, she hit you and locked you in the cupboard?”

“Boxed me ears, too, she did. It hurt somethin’ powerful ‘cause she was angrier than I’d ever seen her.”

“Did Sir Broc hit you too?”

Henry shook his head and sniffed. “Sir Broc just watched her like she were some sort of dog worritin’ a bone and would quiet sooner if left to wear herself out.”

“When you were in the cupboard did they talk?”

“Nae at first. Sir Broc likes it when she’s angry. He allus wants her to lift her skirts so he can rut on her. She was so angry she fought him, but he’s stronger so he had his way. After, she was calmer but still worried.

“That’s when the other man came in. He and Sir Broc talked a bit about some horses going to Lancaster and Lady Agnes traveling ahead to make arrangements there. The other man apologized for failing in his second task.

“Lady Agnes cursed him for a fool and said it no longer mattered then dismissed him. She’d been going through the letters from her box, while Sir Broc and the other man spoke. She told Sir Broc they had to leave now, instead of tomorrow—which would have been yesterday. According to her, someone had put a false letter among her things and was trying to frame her as a spy, and if anyone looked too closely they might discover she’d tried to poison you.”

Colin stiffened. “She tried to poison me?”

“Sir Broc told her she was a fool for doing so, even though he’d brought her more of the things she wanted from the larder. But she said you were sick and weak and no one would have known if it had nae been for your bitch of a wife, interfering and saving your worthless life—beggin’ your pardon, Lady Sorcha. Lady Agnes complained that she’d never get back into Edward’s favor if she could nae hand him Strathnaver on a platter. Though how she could do that I dinna know. For Strathnaver’s bigger than any platter I ever saw.”

Colin smiled and rubbed the boy’s head. “You’re right, Henry. She could never have given Strathnaver to anyone. Do you ken why?”

Henry blanched and his returning color faded. “Be ...because I’m nae her son?”

“That’s right. Do you mind very much?”

The lad shook his head vehemently. “Nae at all. I’m glad she’s nae me
maither
.”

“Do you ken who your mother is?”

Henry shook his head. “I’m nae sure I have one.”

Colin hugged the boy. “You have one, Henry, I guarantee it. Would you like me to find her for you so you can meet her, if she is alive?”

Henry sat silent for a long time, plucking at one corner of the pillow. “I don’t think so. She must not have wanted me very much to let a woman like Lady Agnes take me.”

“She may not have had a choice,” Sorcha interjected softly and put a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

Henry shook his head. “Whoever my
maither
is, she could be better than Lady Agnes. She might even miss me a little bit. But she could also be worse than Lady Agnes. Except for having to pretend to be her son—and the beatings, of course—I like it here at Strathnaver, and would stay if you would let me.”

“We’ll find a place for you here, lad, and discuss it another day. Now go with Sir Ranulf. He’ll take you to the kitchens and get you fed then arrange for you to bathe.”

Henry stood and bowed to Sorcha then turned to Colin. “Must I bathe, your lordship? The maids say bathing can kill a body, and even Lady Agnes only ever washed her face and hands.”

“I wash every day,” Colin said. “Do you want to be like me or like Lady Agnes and the maids?”

Henry nodded. “All right. I’ll bathe, every day as you do. But I’d like to eat first. I’m powerful hungry.”

Ranulf took the boy by the shoulder. “Never fear, lad. I’ll make certain you get to eat your fill before you have to face the dreaded bathing tub.”

“Thank you, Lord Brice, for listening to me and letting me stay at Strathnaver.”

“You are welcome, Henry. After your bath, I think you should stay with the Master of Horse until we can decide more permanent arrangements. Ranulf, find Robert, then both of you join Sorcha and me in the main hall once you’ve settled Henry. Raeb MacKai will be arriving soon, and I would have him know who I have at my back.”

Ranulf’s eyelids lowered, and he nodded then guided Henry to the door. As they passed the spot where Sorcha’s pallet had been, the boy frowned.

“Wait a moment, please,” Henry said. He ran to Sorcha and tugged on her skirt. “My lady, did you find the ring I left for you in your pallet? I gave it you to thank you for being so nice to me. You didna have to be.”

Colin felt the blood drain from his face. Sorcha should be gloating at him—and she probably would later—but now she was smiling at Henry. “Aye, lad, the ring was found. ʼTwas too large for me to wear, so my husband wears it for me.”

Henry eyed Colin then nodded. “He’s a good man, so that’s all right then.”

Sorcha hugged the lad. “Thank you.”

He fought out of the embrace in little boy fashion, “Your welcome but ʼtis nae need to squash a body t’death. I’ll be going now.” He rejoined Ranulf and the two left.

“Sorcha,
muirnean
, thank you for rescuing Henry. I gather it was his cries that caused the maids to think the chamber haunted.”

“Aye.”

His face heated under her steady gaze. “Do you wish to say you told me so? You may. I promise nae to get angry.”

“I’ll save the privilege for the next time you act like a horse’s arse. ’Tis interesting that Lady Agnes thought she was being framed as a spy. Do you suppose the chamberlain put the letter he wrote among her things to distract us?”

“Perhaps she truly is conspiring with Sir MacClaren and didna want Sir Broc to know. Regardless, we know where they and the horses are headed. The only way for her to get to Lancaster before the herd is to go by ship, and the closest port is Dungarob. Think you your brother would assist us to keep Lady Agnes from traveling?”

“’Tis possible, we must ask him when he arrives.”

Colin longed to grasp her and pull her onto his knees to nibble on her neck. “With Coillteach and MacBirnum also arriving soon, our traitors are beginning to sweat and must either decamp or direct attention away from themselves. Lady Agnes’s English background makes her the perfect target.”

Sorcha stood and shook out her skirts. “We’ve little time before Raeb gets here. If we wish to present a confident image, we’d best prepare ourselves and go down to await his arrival.”

All of Clan Marr stood mustered in Strathnaver’s great hall. Baldricks and sword hilts gleamed. Above somber skirts and hose, tunics shone with the bright white of newly made garments. The finest wool wraps
were belted at every waist, draped across every shoulder, pinned with the hawk-feathered clan badge, and worn with the extreme pride of Clan Marr.

Sorcha felt pride, too, despite her worries. Pride in the respect the Marr clansmen’s appearance gave to Clan MacKai. Pride in the clean rushes, whitewashed walls, gleaming appointments, and the rich scents resulting from more than a week of labor and cooperation between her and the Marrs. Pride in the pipers—one from each clan—who skirled a thrilling duet of Highland tunes. Pride in her brother and his men who had adorned themselves with honors to equal the Marrs—if a tad threadbare. Pride in Colin’s strong yet gracious demeanor.

Gone was the sneering, though pretended, sarcasm of the night he announced the impending visit from the MacKais. Gone were his insulting suspicions of his faux wife. Suspicions that proved truer than either he or she intended—though nae about their passion for each other. That had never been in doubt, and to her shame increased daily, making her doubt her decision to leave when she knew staying would bring nothing but sorrow to all concerned. For marriage, to an earl or a peasant, was about more than the two who wed. Marriage was about family and betterment for all. Peace with the MacKais or no, if she wed Colin, her inheritance would revert to him, leaving her penniless. With no dowry and poverty rampant throughout Dungarob, Clan Marr would see a marriage between her and Colin as a drain on their coffers. And none would trust her once Brice’s death was revealed. They would nae want her for their countess, and she would nae remain without marriage.

In place of suspicion between MacKai and Marr existed a truce—a sort of peace. Clan Marr believed that the dangers encountered from the rampaging horses had brought about a reconciliation between earl and countess. Sorcha had visibly and loudly snubbed Robert and blamed him for misleading her about his married state. He now flirted with a flock of other women.

Raeb, leading his men, entered the hall, coming to a stop before the dais.

Colin, still pretending to be Brice, descended the short stairs to stand before her brother. He placed a hand on each of Raeb’s shoulders. Reab followed suit, and they exchanged a formal kiss of peace, brushing their cheeks together, once on the right, once on the left.

Their hands dropped to their sides. Colin signaled a page forward. As a start to his training as a squire, Henry had been given the honor and carried a large velvet pillow on which rested a gleaming long sword of steel worked in the Damascus manner with a single, large red agate set into the end of the hilt. Heather wrapped the hilt and ancient words were etched into the blade. Colin grasped the sword by the blade, held it up and read the inscription.

“Brother in peace, brother in war, one sword, one blood, faithful forever.” He gripped the blade in his off hand and scored his right palm. The keen metal edge broke the skin and bright blood welled. “Marr sheds its blood in protection and support of all its brothers and sisters.”

He passed the blade to Raeb, who did the same, and repeated the pledge. “Mackai sheds its blood in protection and support of all its brothers and sisters.”

The men gripped the hilt together, letting their blood mingle.

“I gift you the Brother Blade, a symbol of the peace and love Marr bears toward MacKai from this day forward. May God have mercy on our souls,” Colin swore.

“I accept the Brother Blade as a symbol of the peace and love MacKai bears toward Marr from this day forward.” The sword was placed back on the pillow Henry carried. He took it to Raeb’s squire, and, to the skirling of pipes, the lads went off together to clean the blade and store it among Raeb’s belongings.

Colin and Raeb clasped forearms.

“Welcome back to Strathnaver, my friend.”

“’Tis glad I am to be here.” Raeb’s glance met Sorcha’s, and she quailed inwardly. Anger lay carefully banked in his eyes, and his smile was brittle. He was making a show for the clans. She would have her work cut out to convince him that the peace Colin offered was true and firm. For Raeb would nae like what he would hear when she and Colin finally found privacy and time to tell him the truth.

“Come.” Colin gestured to all. “Let us feast and celebrate the brotherhood between our clans.”

He brought Raeb to the dais and introduced him to Ranulf and Robert while the trestles were assembled, the clans seated, and the food brought in.

“So I hear you left Davey at Dungarob with your sisters?” Ranulf sipped his wine.

Raeb gave a smile that didna meet his eyes. “Your friend had a small accident that kept him from riding.”

“Hmm,” Ranulf looked into his cup. “I’m certain he’ll recover quickly with six of Clan MacKai’s seven jewels to care for him.”