Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (50 page)

He turned to his mother. There was indeed something more to say, and time it was done.

"I have found Glenshie," he said.

Lady Clarice closed her eyes for a long moment. "Ah. 'Tis still standing, then. Good. Will you claim it for your own?"

"Through the King of Scots, aye," he answered carefully.

Her dark eyes, so like his, were intense. "You would have to reswear your allegiance for that."

"I already have," he answered. "I explained it to Henry and to the others, but I have not told you because—" He paused.

"You feared to tell me." She stretched out her hand, and he took it. "This family protects me too much."

"We do not mind," he answered. "Henry enjoys it, I think."

"He does. And I am sure he approved of what you told him."

"He did." Gawain smiled ruefully, remembering that quiet, late meeting with his stepfather. "He is a good man, a wise man. He knows how important this is to me—and to my Scottish kin."

"You did what you had to do. I am glad of it. 'Tis your heritage. There is much honor in claiming it."

He swallowed hard. "Tell me," he said, "of my father."

She sat still, her fingers, fragile and nearly translucent, wrapped in his. "He was one of the first of the rebels," she said finally, quietly. "And I loved him with all my heart."

More than enough,
he thought,
for any man.
He stayed silent, holding her hand.

Lady Clarice nodded to herself, and he saw tears gather in her eyes. "'Tis proper for you to want to find your home and your inheritance," she said. "And I must ask your forgiveness."

"Nay, Mama." He left his chair, knelt beside her, and kissed her hand.

"I should have told you about him long ago," she said. "I should have told you more about your Scots heritage. 'Twas wrong of me. I was... frightened for you. And still grieving."

"I understand," he murmured.

"We will talk, you and I, before you go back to Elladoune."

She smiled fondly. "Your father would be proud of you, Gabhan," she whispered.

He nodded, unable to speak. For some reason, he remembered trying to protect his mother with a wooden sword.

"Gawain," he said after a moment. "I am Gawain to you, Mama, if you wish it. I respect both of my names, and I will always be faithful to the tenets that Henry has taught me. Somehow I will bring this life, and my new life, together."

"Scotland can use such an honorable knight," Lady Clarice said. She patted his hand and smiled down at him as if he were a small child. He did not mind, for he knew that brought her joy. "But now we will not see you much at all," she added.

He glanced over at Juliana, who dashed tears away from her eyes. "Not for a while, true. But after our child is born next spring, we will visit here as soon as the child is old enough to travel. We will stay for a long while then, if you like."

"Come in the summer, when the swans are on the river!" Eleanor said. Beside her, Catherine nodded agreement.

Gawain looked at Juliana. "The summer would be a good time to visit. The swans are earthbound then, and cannot fly."

Lady Clarice nodded. "And I will be waiting here for you. I promise it," she added fervently, grasping his hand.

* * *

Elladoune

Juliana stood with Gawain on the shore of Loch nan Eala at sunset, beneath a pink and brilliant sky. The autumn leaves in the forest were masses of gold and wine and flame. Their colors spilled into the loch, where the swans glided, part of a perfect mirrored reflection.

The castle rose on its promontory, solid and sure. Beyond the loch, the face in the mountain appeared again, touched, as always, by setting or rising sunlight.

Juliana looked at Gawain. "Soon old Beira will be let loose from her prison, and winter will be upon us. And the swans will fly south again."

He smiled slightly as he studied the mountain. She loved those private, quiet expressions of contentment that she saw in him more often lately. He reached out to take her hand.

"Not all of the swans will fly away from here," he said, and lifted her hand to kiss it.

The sunset grew more fiery, a bright poem of a sky, and the shadows deepened. The wind had a crisp edge. Gawain turned and Juliana walked with him toward Elladoune, her hand still tucked inside his.

"Gabhan," she said. "I have something to tell you."

He slanted an affectionate glance at her. "I already know you are quick with child," he said. "Have you some other surprise for me?"

"I do. I have decided to take my oath."

He raised his brows. "Oh? You have been nicely avoiding that for months. I expected you to sidestep it indefinitely."

"I wanted to, but with a new sheriff appointed to Dalbrae, the matter will come up again. I have decided to say the words, and the sheriff will sign the affidavit, and 'twill be done."

"What caused this change of heart?"

"I havena decided to declare for the English, if that is what you are wondering—"

"Hardly," he drawled.

"I only thought to keep you out of prison. Charges of treason could come any day. I am surprised that the king has not sent word to you already about that, but they say he is ill, and will not live long." She hoped it was not a great sin to wish Edward well away from Scotland, no matter what took him away.

"There are other measures that can be taken to keep me out of the king's dungeon, and free of another oath of obeisance."

"If my oath will help, I will do it." She stopped and looked up at him earnestly. "I would do anything for you."

"Offering me a rescue, Swan Maid?" he murmured.

"If you need it of me," she said.

He cupped her chin in his hand. "I thank you for your loyalty. But there is no need to take the pledge for my sake."

"I have made up my mind to do this. Send word to the sheriff that I will come to Dalbrae this week. What is his name?"

He shook his head. "The signed writ for your oath has already been sent to the king."

She frowned, confused. "How could that be?"

"The new sheriff saw to it when he came to Dalbrae last week. He told me so this morning."

"You have seen him already? We just returned from Avenel late yesterday! Tell me," she said impatiently. "What sort of man is he? Why did he send that writ out?"

"I think," he said, eyes twinkling, "Sir Laurence will make an excellent sheriff for Glen Fillan."

"Laurie?" She laughed. "You knew and did not tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you." He smiled. "He was appointed sheriff by his wife's cousin, Sir Aymer, and came to Dalbrae while we were gone. He found the writ for the oath among some other documents—De Soulis had it prepared before the fair. You never took the oath, but Laurie signed it, swearing that you had, and sent it by messenger to the king with some other documents. 'Tis done. His gift to us, he says."

She laughed again with pure relief and stretched toward him. He gathered her into his arms, and she closed her eyes for a moment. The cold autumn wind cut past, but his solid warmth shielded her.

"Laurie will make an excellent sheriff," she said. "But what of Gabhan MacDuff, known to the English as Gawain Avenel? Will he pursue that man for treason?"

Gawain tucked her hand in his arm and began to stroll up the hill toward Elladoune. "By Scots law, if a man is born in Scotland, he is obligated only to the King of Scots."

"Good," she said. "I hoped it would be so."

"I pledged to Edward and have broken the vow, and there is not much to be done about that," he explained. "But the king is so ill, and growing worse, that his advisors no longer care about smaller matters of justice. They are leaving such things to the regional sheriffs and lords."

"Ah. And what will Sir Sheriff do about your case?"

"He says that Glenshie is nearly impossible to find. And Sir Laurie says it is too much trouble for knights in full mail to ride out in search of one renegade, when there are other matters to concern them—market fairs and farmers' disputes, and the like."

Juliana smiled, then tugged on his arm so that he stopped. Then she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

His hand pressed the small of her back, his other hand brushed along her jaw. Warm, hungry, his lips slanted over hers.

"So you approve of the sheriff's decision," he murmured.

"Very much," she whispered.

"There is one thing more—he has offered to foster Alec and Iain at Dalbrae. But—are you ready to let the young ones out of the nest after keeping them close these months?"

"Not yet," she said, thinking ahead to the spring, when their child would be born at Elladoune. She wanted her younger brothers to have a sense of family. "But when they are ready, that would be a good place for them. They adore Sir Laurie."

"They will have the run of Dalbrae, no doubt," Gawain drawled. "Laurie says his wife will be coming north soon. She is impatient to take the journey—she sent word to Laurie that she is healthy, and he should not fret about her condition." He grinned. "Lady Maude will be a good friend to you, I think."

She held his hand and laughed. "Sometimes I wonder if I can hold any more happiness inside. Our life is more wonderful than I ever could have dreamed."

"Just one thing more," he said softly. "The ransom for Niall and Will has been paid. They will come home before winter."

She gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "Paid?"

"I asked Henry to pay it from my revenues," Gawain said quietly. "I have some land in Northumberland that is farmed by tenants and produces well. The coin was readily available."

She took both of his hands, fingers wrapped together. "I can never thank you enough," she whispered.

"No need," he murmured.

"You just released two rebels, you know," she said.

"Now we will be surrounded by them." He smiled a little. "There is something else—and I ask your blessing. I am going to send word to James Lindsay soon to request that he come here to meet with me."

"Jamie? Of course you have my blessing for it. Why?"

"I mean to offer my services as a spy for the Bruce. I have contacts and influence as constable of an English-held castle."

"Gabhan—it is a great risk."

He nodded, his gaze sweeping past the castle, the loch, the mountains. "It is something I must do."

"What of Laurie? The sheriff would not want you to place him in the poor position of being your enemy."

"Laurie suggested it to me himself. I told you that he leaned that way. He says he likes Scots ale too well to be unkind to those who make it. And the sheriff gets the best ale." He laughed and put his arm around her as they climbed the hill.

Hearing a fast and rhythmic sound, Juliana looked overhead. Gawain did as well.

A huge white swan flew toward the loch, its great wings beating in a steady cadence. Dipping, sinking, the bird landed on the loch with a flurry and a splash. Then it settled on the water, curving head and neck in a graceful arc.

"Ach Dhia,"
Juliana breathed. "Look!"

"What is it?" Gawain asked, glancing where she pointed.

Guinevere glided across the loch with her four cygnets, now grown larger, their grayish feathers mingled with white. They streamed in a line toward the newcomer.

"Artan," she said. Tears pooled in her eyes. "He is back." She looked at Gawain. "He found his way home after all."

He drew her again into the circle of his arm. "I knew he would, even if it took him all his life to find his way here."

Juliana tilted her head, and he kissed her, familiar and welcome and comforting. The child within her tumbled, and she looped her arms around her husband's neck and smiled. "Whatever happens," she said, "we will be together here."

Gawain nodded. "Aye, we will, my love. We will."

The End

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