Once Upon a Plaid (21 page)

“Roughhousing? In case ye’ve forgotten, MacNaught and his men had beaten me senseless before ye stopped them.”

Katherine knew it cost Will to bring that up. No man liked to remember such a crushing defeat even though it had been an unfair fight.

“I’m wondering if I stopped them too soon,” the laird said. “I suppose ye think Ranulf was behind that scepter’s disappearance too.”

“He was.”

“I’d like to see your proof.”

Will folded his arms over his chest and clamped his lips together.

“As I thought. Ye have none. And now ye order all my crofters to converge on the castle on the strength of nothing more than what Hew MacElmurray claims he saw. And while he was unlawfully trapping on someone else’s land, to boot.” When William didn’t respond, the earl stopped pacing and seemed to settle a bit as he considered what he’d just said. Even the bulging vein on his forehead stopped throbbing and shrank. “Ye believe Hew?”

“I do,” Will said. “He has no reason to make up this tale, especially since it brands him a poacher.”

“There is that. What man admits to wrongdoing to offer a false warning?” The old earl sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “But still, I wish ye hadna acted so hasty. I blame myself. Ye’re a young laird yet, Badenoch. Ye dinna know that projected strength is oftimes a man’s best defense. Dinna look as if ye expect an attack and ye’ll not encourage one.”

William nodded, taking the admonishment along with his father-in-law’s capitulation. “I hope I’m wrong.”

“Ye are,” the earl assured him. “I’d bet my best plaid.”

Will’s mouth twitched. “The one with the hole in it?”

“Aye, laddie, I was never one for puttin’ on airs. And besides, as quick as Margaret mends it for me, I always manage to catch the cursed thing on something and rip it again.” Kat’s father chuckled and her husband joined him. “May as well let the hole stand. I seem to fare better with breeks.”

Sensing reconciliation in the air, Katherine stood. “Time will tell and then we’ll know whether ye’ll forfeit your plaid, Father.” She headed for the door, stopping when she laid a hand on the heavy latch. “In the meanwhile, why don’t I fetch breakfast for the pair of ye and ye can plan out the castle defenses together, just in case? Besides, it felt like snow this morning. Ye may as well have something to do that’ll keep ye warm and inside.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to fill the cauldrons over the murder holes and set a watch,” her father said as he took the seat she’d vacated. William settled into the chair opposite him.

“We might organize an archery tournament for this afternoon,” William said. “Just to see how many bowmen we have to hand.”

The earl nodded. “That’s a good thought. A drill or two to gauge how quickly we can man the walls might not come amiss either. It’ll give us an idea of how many fighting men we can muster. Now ye mustn’t expect much from the crofters. They’ve willing hearts, but they havena much experience with armaments and the like. What d’ye think about . . .”

Katherine slipped out, satisfied that between the two of them, they’d meet Ranulf’s threat. But as she filled their trenchers with steaming parritch and fresh bannocks, something William had said came back to her.

If Will had no heir, was he courting the same sort of challenge from a rival a few years hence? Would Badenoch Castle become a bone of contention for every member of the Douglas clan who thought their particular branch of the house ought to take charge since William’s line had ended?

Her chest constricted with that same old ache, only now a fresh twist of guilt was added. Ultimately, would men die because she couldn’t give her husband a son?

—From “There Is No Rose”

 

 

—An observation from Nab,
fool to the Earl of Glengarry

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nab wished with all his heart that he was in his single little space up in his secret tower. William had been trying to teach him to shoot a longbow all afternoon, but the yew bow was not kind to his clumsy hands. Nab had to strain with all his might to draw the arrow back, and when he released it, the missile often went so wrong, everyone within the keep had given the pair of them a wide berth.

“Has it crossed yer mind that some of us were not meant to be archers?” he asked William after one of the arrows narrowly missed Angus. The terrier went yapping across the bailey, more scared than hurt, but it was a near thing. Nab would never have forgiven himself if he’d hit the wee bugger. He lowered the bow and scowled down the archery butts at the target, which was in no danger from him.

“Ye must try, Nab.” William handed him another arrow. “Every man should be able to defend both himself and others who are weaker than he.”

Nab suspected there were few in the castle weaker than he.
Maybe the lads in Lady Margaret’s nursery.

He loosed another arrow, which fell short of the mark by some ten yards.

The younger lads
, he amended as he rubbed his shoulder. It ached from all the unusual exertion.

William didn’t chide. It was one of the things that made his company so much easier for Nab to tolerate than most people’s. Instead, Lord Badenoch demonstrated the proper technique once more. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, drew it back to his ear in a smooth, seemingly effortless motion, and loosed it. The shaft flew true and sank halfway into the target.

“A well-placed arrow from a longbow can even pierce armor, ye ken,” William said. “I dinna understand why ye never learned to shoot. I heard that some years ago Lord Glengarry had ordered all men between fifteen and sixty to practice with a bow at least once a week.”

Nab gave a halfhearted nod. “He did, but I was excepted from the law. When it became apparent to his lordship that I’m only suited to telling stories and making people laugh.”

Even though half the time he wasn’t sure why they were holding their sides with mirth.

“What about a sword or a dirk?” William asked. “Have ye ever wielded a blade?”

“Other than my meat knife, no, and I’ve only ever menaced a shank of mutton with that.”

“Collect your arrows and give it another go then,” William ordered.

“I dinna see the point.”

William’s face went as hard as the stone of the curtain walls. “The point is, if it comes to it, ye need to be able to acquit yourself like a man, Nab.” Evidently, William could chide when he wished. “If I order ye to the wall and call for a volley, ye must follow directions. Ye dinna need to aim then. Just point the tip upward and let fly. Nock. Draw. Loose.” He demonstrated each step again, and the result was another shaft embedded in the target. “But until we come to that, ye need to improve your skills. Now go gather your arrows and try again.”

Nab wandered after his errant arrows. William was clearly worried. All the whispered gossip he’d heard about Ranulf MacNaught’s army coming might be true.

He noticed that Dorcas had sauntered out into the bailey to watch the practice from the hillock near where the chapel stood. Since she was looking on, he stood straighter and picked up his pace down to the raised mounds of earth where several round turf-covered targets had been set up. He refilled his quiver, determined to give her something worth seeing. Lord knew, she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d made such a mess of things.

And surely he’d do better with the bow knowing Dorcas was there.

Just as he stooped to pick up the arrow that had come nearest to hitting the mark, a sound like a giant hornet buzzed over his head. There in the center of the turf target near him, a fletched shaft quivered.

He straightened and peered down the butts to see a tall, thin fellow nocking another arrow on the string. Nab waved his arms over his head. “Och, man, do ye not see me here?”

He quickly scooped up the last of his arrows and skittered to the side as another missile zipped past him.

“O’ course, I see ye,” the young man called back, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Nab stomped back to him. “Ye might have hit me, ye ken.”

“No might about it. I would have hit ye,” the fellow said agreeably, “if I’d been aiming for ye.”

William clapped a hand on the archer’s shoulder. Nab wondered what that sort of approval felt like.

“Hew MacElmurray can shoot out a coney’s eye at a hundred yards,” Will said. “Ye were in no danger, Nab.”

No danger, he says.
Maybe not, but when that arrow had flown so close over Nab’s head, his trews were in imminent danger of needing awash.

“Mr. MacElmurray, ye must be hungry after all that practicing,” Dorcas called down. Even though she spoke only to the new fellow, all three men looked back up at her. Dorcas’s cheeks were kissed with becoming patches of pink, bright roses in a world of grey. She’d never looked so comely. “Cook just took a fresh batch of tarts from the oven. Shall I bring ye one?”

All that practicing, she says.
Hew MacElmurray had let fly only a couple of arrows and Dorcas was ready to bring him fresh tarts for his piddling effort. Nab had been hard at it all afternoon and she didn’t offer him so much as a moldy crust.

“Are they as sweet as ye?” Hew called back to her.

“That ye’ll have to decide after ye’ve had a bite,” Dorcas answered saucily.

Something burned in Nab’s chest.

“In that case, I’ll come try one,” Hew said. Nab hoped he was talking about the tarts. It was hard to be sure. “I dinna need more practice here.”

Hew’s words would have been quite a boast if they weren’t true, Nab thought ruefully.

“Shall I walk ye back to the keep then?” Hew asked.

Dorcas smiled at the tall bowman.

She used to smile at Nab like that. Why, oh why had he made such a muddle of things? The burning sensation spread from his chest up his neck and singed the tips of his ears.

Hew slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder and hurried up the slope to join Dorcas. Leaning toward each other, they ambled off toward the keep. Dorcas’s laughter floated back to Nab. He wondered what the beanpole of a crofter had said to her to make her laugh.

“Bet he canna read her a poem,” Nab muttered.

He turned back toward the turf targets, nocked an arrow on the string, and drew with all the fury his body possessed. The fletching on the end of the shaft brushed his ear and he loosed.

The arrow flew true and buried its pointed head in the target. It wasn’t dead center, but it was close.

“Well done!” Will pounded his back. “A longbow man should be able to loose ten or twelve birds a minute. Do it again to make sure that wasna an accident.”

Nab nocked another arrow and drew back the hemp, ignoring the way the muscles in his arm and shoulder protested. He let fly, tracking the course of the arrow through the crisp air till it joined its fellow in the target.

“I dinna know what ye’re doing different,” Will said, “but ye’re definitely getting the hang of this. Keep up the good work.”

William left, probably drawn back to the keep by the promise of fresh tarts, but Nab pulled another arrow from his quiver. He could have told William what he was doing differently.

He was imagining Hew MacElmurray’s face dead center on the turf-covered target.

—From “This Little Babe”

 

 

 

—An observation from Nab,
fool to the Earl of Glengarry

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Katherine rolled over in her sleep, conscious only that warmth had fled from her bed. Her hand groped for Will and found only an indented pillow. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing by one of the arrow slits that served as her chamber’s windows. His dark form was kissed by starlight and faint flickers from the banked fire. The small hairs on his arms and legs were edged with alternating silver or gold. Beautifully formed, he was as still as a statue as he peered through the slit into the night.

“Will, come back to bed.”

He turned at the sound of her voice. “I canna sleep and didna wish to wake ye with my restlessness.” But he came to her in any case, sliding under the coverlet, bringing the much needed heat of his bare skin back to the bed.

For days, the castle had hummed with feverish activity. The Earl of Glengarry’s crofters poured through the gates with their livestock and household goods. Parts of the bailey resembled a fair with makeshift tents and stalls, but there was little of the gaiety associated with an open market. Instead a quiet drone of murmured rumor made the castle a beehive whose inhabitants hadn’t quite made up their mind to swarm.

The men of the castle had drilled each day. The fletchers produced arrows at a breakneck pace. The smith’s forge flared all night, turning out swords and axes. The cooper ceased barrel making and instead prepared round targes covered with hardened leather and studded with metal discs. The small shields would turn an enemy blade in close combat or shelter a fighter from a hail of arrows.

But with each passing day, the strain of waiting for something to happen frayed tempers. William had broken up a number of petty fights. If MacNaught didn’t come soon, Katherine’s father was likely to send everyone home.

“Waiting is the worst thing in the world,” Will said with a sigh.

“Tell that to Margaret. She’s about to pop.” Katherine snuggled next to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. “Ye’ve done all ye could.”

“Tell that to the earl.”

“Would ye have done anything differently if this were Badenoch ye were defending?”

“No.”

“Then ye’ve nothing to reproach yourself for.” Fortunately, Badenoch was at peace with its neighbors, but if the worst happened in William’s absence, his four brothers—Eadan, Kieran, Ross, and Sean—would stand shoulder to shoulder against all comers. Sean, the youngest, was only fifteen, but he could already look William in the eye and was probably going to be the tallest of the brood. The five Douglas brothers were a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately, only one of them was in Glengarry.

The smell of baking wafted up the spiral stairs. Below in the kitchen, Cook and her gaggle of helpers were already hard at work even though dawn wouldn’t come for some time.

“Winter nights are long,” Katherine said with a sigh.

William patted her rump. “God be praised.”

“Hmph. Speaking of the Almighty, ’tis Epiphany, ye know,” she said. “Will ye go to mass with me?”

“Aye, I’ll go. God and I are no longer at war.”

“Good. Ye’ll enjoy the miracle and mystery play Father Argyll has prepared. He’s gone all out since the castle is so full of souls for him to save. Wee Tam is playing Baby Jesus this year, but I’ll not say he’s warmed to the role.”

William’s belly quivered with a chuckle. “He’s a good lad. Just not the sort to take to ‘swaddling clothes’ without a fight, I’ll be bound.”

“No, Tam’s the one who’s being bound and that’s just the trouble. About the time Father Argyll gets him all bundled tight, as the Scriptures say, and settled in the manger, he pitches the most unholy fit.”

A cock crowed. This was followed by a slamming door, the tramp of feet, and a muffled call as a few of the castle’s residents began to wake and stir. William threw back the blankets and swung his long legs over the side of the bed.

“If I canna sleep, I may as well walk the walls. The hours before dawn are the worst for a watchman. It’ll do the lads good to have some company.”

“Maybe ye’d like some company too.” Katherine slid out of bed after him and drew on her arisaid, belting it tightly over her leine. “Besides, I willna sleep more without ye.”

The terrier, Angus, had no such trouble. Now that his humans had vacated the bed, he left his spot at the foot and wormed his way up to burrow under the pillows till only his stubby tail showed. After chasing vermin, going to ground among the linens seemed to be his second favorite pastime.

“I’m glad to hear it. I dinna want ye to sleep without me,” Will said. “Not here. Not back at Badenoch. Not anywhere.”

It was William’s way of reminding her that she’d threatened to send to Rome for an annulment after Epiphany. Katherine still hadn’t told him whether she’d given up on the idea or not.

Mostly because she didn’t know herself. She and Will were closer now than they’d ever been in their marriage. They’d finally wept together. They’d loved each other through tears and emerged from the torrent all the stronger. They’d started to behave like a normal man and wife again.

Better than normal. They talked and laughed together, even though the castle was in turmoil. And they swived each other with enthusiasm every chance they got, without considering whether or not they’d created a child.

In Margaret’s case, that wasn’t so usual.

“Your brother Donald is verra parsimonious with his seed,” she had confided to Katherine. “He spends it to make a child and when that task is accomplished, he’s off to tend to other interests in other places. Storing it up for the next time I need to be gotten with child, no doubt. Leastwise, I hope he’s storing it up.”

William certainly wasn’t. He gave himself to Kat at every opportunity without reservation.

More than their intimate life was being reborn. In other ways, the connection between them grew stronger each day. They finished each other’s sentences. They shared secret glances in the most public of places and understood the thoughts behind them without a word.

But Katherine still wasn’t sure an annulment wasn’t the best thing for William, so she hadn’t ruled it out. Their marriage was all that was warmth and light in her world, but that didn’t signify when measured against the coldness of her cradle and Will’s need for an heir. The reasons behind her decision to seek an annulment still applied.

But could she love the man enough to set him free? That was the rub.

Wind whistled through the arrow slits, keening like a lost soul.

“I’ll be glad for your company,” Will said as he draped her cloak over her shoulders and handed her the new muff. “But bundle up. Sounds colder than a banshee’s tits out.”

“And since when do ye know about any other tits but mine?” she asked tartly.

He pulled her close and fondled her through the layers of her clothing. Her nipples perked at his touch despite the wool and linsey separating them. “I do only imagine, love. Yours are the only tits for me.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and they headed down the spiral stairs. Katherine sneaked a glance into Margaret’s chamber as they passed and saw Beathag dozing in a chair beside the bed. Margie seemed to be resting comfortably.

“Careful,” William whispered as they continued down. “Nab’s sprawled out here.”

How the fool could sleep with his head on the earl’s threshold and his body draped over a couple of the stair risers was a wonderment. But Nab’s stentorian snore proved he managed it well enough.

Katherine and Will picked their way through the great hall, successfully avoiding the many retainers, crofters, and guests who’d wrapped themselves in their plaids and claimed a bit of floor space. One of the deerhounds near the massive fireplace lifted his head as they passed, thumped its tail, and settled immediately when it recognized them.

Outside the great hall, the bailey was swathed in a low-lying fog that muffled sounds and obscured the pathways. The brewery, the well house, the chapel, and other outbuildings rose from the white haze like islands in a becalmed sea. William grasped Katherine’s elbow and steered her to the stairs leading to the top of the curtain wall.

A sentry challenged them and was embarrassed when he saw who they were, though William praised the man for his thoroughness.

“What news?” he asked.

“Nothing, my lord,” the fellow said. “Leastwise I hope ’tis nothing. The woods have been rustling something fierce this night, but it may just be the wind.”

The new moon was setting, but there was enough light to make out the dark pines and bare-limbed alders that began growing halfway up the slope to the north of the castle. Their trunks were swathed in mist, but their topmost boughs rose above it like pointed spears or bony fingers clawing heavenward. Katherine leaned on the crenellations as the eastern sky lightened to pale grey. A flash of something deep in the woods caught her eye.

“There’s something there, William,” she said softly, pointing to the place where the meadow left off and the forest began. Another flicker made her breath hiss over her teeth. “Is that—”

“Hush.” Will cocked his head to listen. It was a low, plodding crunch, the footsteps of hundreds of men marching through packed snow. As more of the mist lifted, dawn reflected off another bit of armor.

Glengarry was situated on a spit of land that thrust out into the loch. The dark waters of Loch Ness served as its rear guard. It was only accessible and only vulnerable from the north, where the woods stood on a steep slope. As the world turned a sickly greenish grey, Katherine saw that among the trees, there were men-at-arms.

Hundreds of them.

As the light strengthened, she saw more of them. Someone gave a shouted command and they formed up, a long snaky line that cut off both access to the castle and escape from it. When the last of the natural fog faded, the men’s breath rose in the air, an unnatural dragonish haze.

Grim-faced, William turned to the sentry. “Wake his lordship.”

The man tugged his forelock, his face as white as the fog had been, and scrambled down the stairs.

“There are so many,” Katherine said. She was no expert, but it seemed the men outside the walls outnumbered those inside by three or four to one.

“But we are safe behind the walls of Glengarry.” Will pulled one of her hands from her muff and pressed it to his lips. “No need to fear.”

“Ye’d say that whether it was true or not.”

Will’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “It was worth a try. But it is true that your cousin will break his forces on the walls of Glengarry if he tries to scale them. We are more than enough to defend this castle. Dinna be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid for myself,” she said, though something inside her that had nothing to do with the cold was beginning to make her shiver uncontrollably. “Not so long as I’m with you. But what about Margie? And all the children, hers and all the crofters’?”

“They’ll need to be kept inside. Out of the open bailey and as low in the keep as ye can arrange.”

She nodded breathlessly. They’d been preparing for this, but it still seemed unreal. She turned to go, but he didn’t release her hand.

“Kat, we haven’t spoken of it in a while, love, but . . . weel, I just wanted to make sure ye’ve put away any thought of sending to Rome.” His dark gaze burned through to her inmost part. Even if she wanted to tell a lie, she couldn’t. He’d know it. He knew her heart as well as she did. “Tell me ye’ve changed your mind.”

She was spared from giving an answer by an unexpected helper—her cousin Ranulf. At that moment, he broke through the tree line, mounted on a beautifully caparisoned palfrey. Filib Gordon fell in beside him on a less impressive mount, bearing a white flag of truce. The pair rode down the slope toward the gates of Glengarry and stopped about a hundred yards shy of the wall.

“What now?” Katherine asked.

“Looks like he wants to parley. I’ll ride out with your father and see what he has in mind.”

Katherine scanned the long row of fighting men. They were too far away for her to be able to read their expressions, but their forms bristled with weaponry. “I think it’s fairly obvious what my cousin has in mind.”

“Aye, but if Ranulf wants to play the gentleman and offer terms, we’ll do him the courtesy of listening.”

“My father will never surrender.”

“Of course not, but we might learn something that will help us turn the tables on him.”

She’d resisted the urge to accuse her cousin of treachery, but now he’d convicted himself of it by amassing this contingent of fighting men around Glengarry’s one vulnerable side. “But what if Ranulf doesn’t mean to play the gentleman?”

“He knows better than to try anything underhanded beneath a flag of peace, but just in case . . .” William signaled to another of the watchmen and told him to order the archers to the walls. “May as well give MacNaught an incentive to remain honest.”

Katherine put her arms around him, heedless of who might be looking on, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. “Be careful, Will. My heart goes with you.”

“And mine remains safe in your keeping.” He kissed her back, hard and determined. “What evil can befall us?”

Then he strode away. Katherine looked back down at her cousin, who still waited beneath his white flag. As if he felt her gaze, Ranulf turned his head in her direction and bared his teeth at her in a wolf’s smile.