Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (40 page)

“Your body says
otherwise,
svanfríðr
.”

She stiffened in his
embrace and folded her arms over her breasts. She would not let him
do this to her! Not again.
Never
again. And she wasn’t going with him back
to
Leòdhas
,
either, tho’ ‘twas plain, by the grim look on Robert’s countenance
and his arrogant stance where he stood near the cart Grímr
unswervingly carried her toward that he’d not be a confederate to
her in this. She must bear the humiliation until she was away from
this keep and able to ply her wiles on either an unsuspecting guard
or, mayhap, a village alewife somewhere along the journey before
they reached the shore.

Grímr settled her on the carter’s bench with
his arm slung around her middle to keep her in place and turned to
Robert, saying, “My thanks, friend, for the use of the cart, and
for your generous hospitality as well.”

Vika snorted and dug her nails into his
arm.

Robert’s gaze didn’t waver from Grímr’s
countenance, which vexed her even more, so she said (even tho’ she
was almost certain Grímr had revealed otherwise), “ ‘Tis no more
than I’d expect from you, Robert MacVie, handing off your bastard
to be raised by another man.”

Robert did look at her then, but ‘twas more
of a sweep of the eye with one brow lifted, before he turned his
attention back on Grímr. “You are sure you do not need a carter?”
he asked him.

“Nay, I shall drive it myself. ‘Twill
be...safer, I trow.”

Vika narrowed her eyes at
him. She knew all too well what he meant: Safer for
his
purposes, not hers.
For, she’d not have the freedom to alight quite so easily with him
sitting beside her.

Or, so he thought.

An intent look passed between the two
warriors, which Vika took as more proof of their conspiracy against
her, before Robert gave a nod and said, “Aye.”

Grímr clamped his hand on Robert’s shoulder
and Robert returned the gesture before Grímr hauled himself up on
the seat beside her, took up the reins, whistled to the horses and
signaled to the men with a lift of his hand that they should all
begin moving toward the gate.

A quarter-hour later,
Vika, her heart thudding in her chest, twisted around with her hand
unknowingly levered on Grímr’s hard thigh, and sent one long, last
look in the direction of the MacVie holding as it grew smaller and
smaller in her vision.
Before God and all
his angels, I say this true: I shall not again set so much as a
foot down upon
Leòdhas
.

A Madman’s Lair

“
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,

Charm ache with air and agony with words.”

Much Ado About Nothing (Act V, scene i)

“
Things bad begun make strong themselves by
ill.”

Macbeth (Act III, scene ii)

“W
HY ARE YOU not inside the fortress, doing your day’s work?”
Alaric growled at Symon, who stood in the doorway of the abandoned
cot in a small wooded copse on the outer border of the de Burgh
land that Alaric had been living in these past moons.

“Because I’ve news that could not wait. The
kitchen maid put her ear to the door this morn and has learned that
Robert MacVie knows of the plot against his wife, and has the
support of the King in doing what e’er is necessary to bring us to
justice.”

“God’s Bl—!”

“Wait,” Symon said, lifting his hand,
“there’s more. Donnach’s daughter has fled with that warrior from
the far North who has been staying at the MacVie holding.”

Alaric swung around and took two long
strides to the hearth.

Symon followed and shut the door behind
him.

“ ‘Tis too dangerous to remain here now,
that much is clear,” Alaric said after a moment. “And Donnach would
agree. We must abort this plot, as they’ve still no notion of who
it is that aids him. We will wait a time, start again with another
method.” He turned back to Symon. “But, we cannot allow his
daughter to be taken away by that warrior. She is too valuable to
her father. He’s been trying for another alliance which would
benefit him as well as the one he made with the aged raider of that
island.”

“What do you propose?”

“We must follow them and take her back with
us. For, ‘tis truth, I fear Donnach’s wrath more even than I do the
King’s.”

“Aye, me as well. I confess, I foresaw such,
and did what was needed before I departed.”

Alaric’s eyes narrowed on Symon. “The
maid?”

“Aye. She is dead, so will tell no
tales.”

“And the body?”

“Let us simply say, ‘tis
well with
in
the
keep’s walls.”

Alaric turned, stroking the beginnings of a
beard on his chin. “Good. But we must hasten from here, and hope
that none follow.”

“No one will.”

Alaric swung ‘round to face Symon once more,
his gaze sharp. “Tell me.”

Simon grinned. “You will be pleased, I
think, to learn that I’ve arranged a bit of a distraction, which
will force all within the fortress—and without as well—to turn
their full attention to. In fact, there may even be a chance that
the mute will not survive it.”

“You will tell me what you’ve done on the
way. For now, we must flee.”

* * *

Morgunn didn’t have to
wait more than another half-hour for the lass to show herself, and
when she did, his heart shot into his throat.
Morgana!

In that moment, all his previous plans
crumbled into dust and he acted without thought, leaping off the
slow-moving wain and running forward. When Morgana’s head whipped
around and her eyes went wide in what he saw to be terrible fear,
he knew instantly he’d made a grave error. ‘Twas likely she
recognized him from the keep, but clearly she thought he’d turned
to freebooting by the manner in which he’d approached, and no doubt
his eyepatch and look of worry, which Gwynlyan oft had told him was
more grim than troubled, seemed sinister and even malignant.

Morgunn skidded to a halt, holding up both
hands to show them empty, and was about to yell to the occupants
requesting they stay their cart a moment, but by this time, the
young man driving it had heard the clomp of Morgunn’s boots and had
turned around and seen him. The pilgrim pulled on the reins and,
after a few more feet, the conveyance came to a stuttering stop
.

Fortunately, oxen were easily led and his
was prone to idleness, so had already stalled his own motion and
pulled to the side of the well-worn path that served as the road to
graze on the vegetation growing there.

“Know ya tha’ ya ‘ave the lady Morgana,
Laird MacVie’s wife, on yer wain?”

The pilgrim blinked twice then turned a
perplexed gaze on Morgunn’s daughter. “Nay, she is not that lady.
This is but a mute who hopes for healing at Holyrood Abbey.”

Morgunn stepped closer. Close enough that he
could see the pulse fluttering in his daughter’s neck. With his eye
still on her as he continued to speak to the pilgrim, he said,
“Aye, she be mute, but again, she be the wife o’ Robert MacVie. I
think he wull like i’ no’ tha’ ya ‘ave hied her away wi’ ya, and ya
wull surely find tha’ his gen’rosity o’ this nigh’ past wull turn
more ta a gen’rous wielding o’ righ’ful joostice ‘pon discov’rin’
sech.”

* * *

“Are you in truth the MacVie chieftain’s
wife?” the pilgrim, Cormac, said, at last dismounting from his seat
and coming around to the back of the cart where Morgana sat
wringing her hands. Morgana nodded.

What dire misfortune was
upon her that this man—this tinker—had chosen to depart behind
them, to take the same path! Now she had no choice but to return to
Robert’s holding.
And if he has read the
scroll already?
What to do then? For, he’d
know her plan and, with her still in place as his wife, she knew
he’d think it his duty to keep her, to bring to an end any further
attempt to step aside so that he might wed with her
cousin.

“We must turn this wain around then and take
you back forthwith,” Cormac said before leveling his gaze once more
on the other man. “Tinker, will you pull your cart off the path
while I do such?”

“Nay, no need. I had only joost discover’
tha’ I’d no’ loaded some o’ m’wares back on m’cart after doin’ a
count o’ them las’ night when I saw the lady coom oop froom ‘neath
th’ cov’rins. I wull be pleased ta return her ta her keep fer ya.”
He came up to the wain then and offered his hand to her. “I feel
sure the Laird wull no’ coom after ya, once his dear bride be back
safe ‘neath his roof.”

Seeing the keen spark of intelligence and
determination in the tinker’s dark-fringed blue eye, a wave of
something akin to recognition swept through her center, but ‘twas
too brief to capture or study. So, having no other choice but to
return from whence she’d so recently fled, and with a mental sigh
of resignation, Morgana reluctantly took his rough, gloved hand and
allowed him to aid her to the ground.

* * *

It took a bit of physical maneuvering, as
well as gentle coaxing of his ox to get his wain turned around on
the narrow path, as ‘twas heavily loaded with metal, and a few
wooden wares, but, after almost a half-hour, and a small crack in
the axle, Morgunn at last managed it, and he and his daughter were
at last plodding back toward the MacVie holding. If he was careful,
and if good fortune held, they’d make it at least to the gates
before they lost a wheel.

He wanted desperately to ask why she’d left
her husband, but knew he’d already o’erstepped his place by taking
charge of her and forcing her to return with him. Unless, of
course, he told her who he truly was, which he’d not do. At least,
not until he’d returned her to safety. He realized ‘twas time to
reveal all to her, otherwise, she might risk her life again without
realizing. Just as she’d done this day.

“
She
suffers….”
His wife’s words came back
to him and this time, he kenned the true depth of what Gwynlyan had
tried so hard to relay that night. Aye, when they were secure
within the walls of the keep once more, he’d tell his daughter the
truth.

They were nearing the fork in the path, one
veering west, one veering east, when Morgunn felt a jolt on his
side of the cart. He pulled on the reins and whipped his head
around, saying aloud to no one, “What’s this?” The ox hadn’t even
fully stopped, and Morgunn’s glance hadn’t yet reached the back end
of the conveyance when all at once a loud crack rent the air and
the wain leaned. The ox let out a sharp bellow, as its cumbersome
burden tilted almost completely onto its side, while pots clanged
and clattered onto the path. Morgunn was flung out as well, with
his daughter’s weight aiding the descent to the ground.
Instinctively, he secured her in his embrace so that his frame took
the impact. With his vision still spinning from the knock he’d
taken to the back of the head, they both lay there stunned and
still for an extended moment, until he heard the ox scream again
and start to pull forward, trying to get free of the harness that
was choking him.

With a quick look at his daughter to make
sure she was uninjured, he scrambled to his feet and ran to the
distressed animal, then quickly released it from its cumbrance. The
ox staggered back a few steps, then turned, as if naught was amiss,
and began to graze again at the side of the road.

When he shifted back around, he was
surprised to find his daughter busily gathering up the stray pots
and other wares from the ground and making a neat stack of them
near the tipping cart. Without saying a word, he squatted next to
it, craned his neck to look at the underside, and saw what he’d
expected to see: A broken axle.

There was naught for it. They’d have to walk
the remainder of the way back to the holding. And, if fortune shone
on them, his son-in-law would have discovered his wife’s
disappearance and would meet them on their way. He only prayed
Donnach’s cohorts were not about. A chill of trepidation ran down
his spine. He liked it not, being so open to attack, with only a
meager dirk, and no sword for protection.

* * *

Symon mounted his steed, saying, “ ‘Tis glad
I am to be out of those workman’s weeds and back in finer cloth
again.”

“ ‘Tis a boon that they travel in a covered
cart, for with the added load, they will not have got as far,”
Alaric said, hoisting himself into his saddle. “We shall cross the
heath to where the path forks. ‘Tis, I think, the shortest distance
to our goal.”