Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (6 page)

A high cry cut through sunlight and peacefulness like a blade. Kneeling on a sheltered part of the bank, Juliana paused as she tossed bits of grain to the swans and the ducks. She glanced around, knowing that her younger brothers were playing at bows and swords in the forested area between the loch and the abbey gate.

The scream sounded again, more frantic than playful. She rose to her feet, shading her eyes against the sun. Out on the water, several ducks scattered noisily, taking to the air.

Closer to the bank, six swans looked up from intent feeding. Four small, gray-brown cygnets glided behind their parents, Artan and Guinevere—a pair Juliana had named a few years ago when they had first nested on Loch nan Eala. The adults arched their wings and leaned their heads back alertly.

Something was amiss, Juliana thought; the swans sensed it too. Hearing another cry, she turned, recognizing that particular shriek.

"Iain!" she called. "Alec! Come here!"

She waited. A breeze ruffled the pale golden hair that spilled over her shoulders. Her glance took in the water meadow that spread away from the loch, its tall reeds laced with burns and pools, merging with a broad stream where the mill was located. Beyond that lay the ruined, deserted village, where hearth fires had not burned for three years.

She looked behind her. The modest grounds of Inchfillan Abbey, walled and quiet, met the banks of the loch. Past the abbey, the loch was fringed by forest that extended toward Elladoune at its other tip.

The English-held castle was not visible from here, and Juliana was glad. Glimpses of her former home stirred only grief and sadness, even after six years.

She was careful to avoid the English soldiers who rode in and out of Elladoune Castle. They sometimes came to the abbey to meet with her guardian Abbot Malcolm, but she and her brothers kept out of sight whenever possible.

The screams were louder now, and she turned. Her brothers tore out of the woods as if the demons of hell were on their heels. Hair flying, shirts and plaids rumpled, knees bruised and knobby, they pounded on bare feet across the meadow. They gripped small bows in their hands, and feathered arrows—with blunted points—flopped in leather quivers on their backs.

"Juliana!" Alec, the older boy, called. Iain shrieked repeatedly as he followed.

"Ach
, hush!" she called. "Did you argue between you?"

"Run! Quickly!" Alec called. Iain waved his arms, still squealing, as he rushed toward her.

Seeing genuine fright on their faces, Juliana ran to meet them. Iain thudded into her, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his golden curls beneath her encircling arm.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

Iain pointed toward the forest. "The black knight!" he yelled. "He is coming!"

"De Soulis?" She looked at Alec.

He nodded breathlessly. "The sheriff and his men are riding through the forest! We were practicing bow shooting, and we saw them! Iain screamed loud and they followed us. We must hide!"

Alarmed, Juliana took their arms and began to hurry toward the abbey. "They must not see us!"

"I will shoot them," Iain said fiercely. "I am going to win the archery competition and best all the English bowmen!"

"You are not big enough, and hush up," Alec said. "If they see Juliana, they will try to catch her. Hurry!"

Juliana put a hand on Iain's thin shoulder as they hastened toward the abbey gate. Iain had been a babe in arms and Alec a toddler when Walter de Soulis and his men had burned Elladoune. Her brothers did not remember it, but the memories still seared her dreams, and her fear and loathing of De Soulis had not abated.

"How many knights did you see?" she asked the boys.

"A hundred!" Iain said.

"Fifteen," Alec said, glancing at his brother. "They were riding to the abbey."

Iain pointed and shrieked. "The black knight!"

Horses and riders, wearing the red surcoats of Edward's men, burst through the trees and headed across the meadow, hoofbeats heavy, armor and weapons chinking. The leader rode a black horse and wore black chain mail beneath a wine-colored surcoat. Seeing him, Juliana grabbed the boys' arms and began to run.

"There—the Swan Maiden!" someone shouted.

Three horsemen split away from the group and rode toward them, their faces grim. Juliana shoved her brothers ahead of the riders and spun to block the horsemen. One of the knights cut around her and chased after the boys while the other man rode toward her.

She swerved and went down the bank, splashing into the shallows. On the loch, a swan launched into flight, great wings beating. As the huge bird swerved toward them, the horse neighed, but the knight drew closer and reached out. Splashing through ankle-deep water, Juliana avoided his grasp.

"Stop!" he hollered, reaching again.

"Let her go," a deep voice called out. "The boys will pay for her escape!"

With a sense of dread in her gut, she slowed and turned.

De Soulis stared at her from a few yards away, his eyes small and piercing. He was graying but handsome with precise, carefully etched features, and she sensed a darkness about him that went beyond his notorious black armor.

"We have your brothers," he called. "Go into the loch if you wish." He waved a hand to encourage her. "Show us how you turn into a swan. I, for one, would like to see it."

Two knights rode behind De Soulis, Alec and Iain trapped in their arms. Alec sat quietly, but Iain shrieked and struggled as he lay over the front of the saddle, legs kicking.

"Juliana!" Alec called. "Run!"

She hesitated, standing in a cool sweep of water.

"What shall I do with them? Will you speak in their defense, Swan Maiden?" De Soulis guided his horse into the water toward her. She stepped back.

"Do not talk!" Alec shouted. "Remember the Swan Maiden!"

She glanced toward her brother. Alec bravely wanted to protect the ruse they had agreed on, while nearby, Iain still squealed and fought. She was proud of both for their spirit.

"Quiet that boy!" De Soulis ordered. Iain's captor winced loudly when he was bitten, and he smacked the child in response. Iain began to whimper.

Furious on his behalf, Juliana lunged through the water. De Soulis turned his horse to block her advance. When she stepped sideways, water swooshing, he blocked her again. Her dress was soaked, her breath and chest heaving, her hair hanging down. She stared at him, trapped, wild with a need to free her brothers.

Artan glided swiftly through the water toward them, wings raised aggressively. Nearing the horse, the cob lifted his wings and swatted outward. The bay snorted and stepped back.

Juliana moved again but De Soulis blocked her. Near her, the swan hissed. Reaching down, she touched the taut curve of Artan's neck. The bird settled low in the water and swam away.

"So, we see some of your magic after all, Swan Maiden," De Soulis drawled. In the distance, Malcolm and a few monks ran toward them, shouting. "Come to me, or the boys will be harmed."

She knew it for a genuine threat. After a moment, she lifted her arm toward him in passive surrender.

"Well and truly caught," he said. "I am disappointed. I expected more of a challenge from the Swan Maiden of Elladoune." He grasped her arm to pull her up behind him.

She grabbed his belt to steady herself, head lifted and back straight. He guided the horse to the bank and looked over his shoulder. "No plea for mercy?"

She narrowed her eyes. At close view, he was lean and taut, with sharp features and dark eyes. His chain mail, finely woven and glossy as onyx, draped over him like heavy velvet.

She stared at it curiously. De Soulis's black armor was renowned. Rumor said it was impenetrable, even enchanted. Whatever the truth, she had never seen a war garment like it.

"Juliana!" She looked around to see Malcolm and the monks rushing toward them.

"Father Abbot!" Iain yelled, struggling in his captor's arms. "Help! The black knight has us all!"

"Let my wards go, Sir Walter," Malcolm said sternly in Scots. "You have nae quarrel with them."

"True, though I confess I am curious about the girl. The rumors about her are... intriguing."

She twisted, and De Soulis caught her forearm in a steely grip. "You cannot fly away now," he murmured.

"Let them go," Malcolm repeated. "Leave here."

"We have business on the loch." The creamy smoothness of his voice made Juliana feel ill. "King Edward has requested a pair of Scottish swans for a royal feast. He has appointed me his new Master of Swans in Scotland. Part of my duties are to see that swans are captured to stock his rivers and grace his table. My men will take a pair of birds from those you keep."

"We do not keep them," Malcolm answered. "The birds are wild. They choose to stay here."

"All the swans in Britain belong exclusively to the king," the sheriff said. "That includes the swans in Scotland. For now, we need but one more. We have caught one already—the Swan Maiden." De Soulis kept hold of Juliana's arm. "The king will find this pair quite amusing."

"The king?" Malcolm asked. "You cannot take the lass!"

"I can and will," De Soulis answered. "With another swan." He gestured to two men, who dismounted. They took nets and long hooks from their saddles and walked to the water's edge.

Juliana gasped and twisted silently in De Soulis's relentless grip. She had known some of the birds for years, since they had been born, and she could not bear for harm to come to any of them. But she did not know how to help them now.

"Abbot, if the girl wants to protest, make her use her tongue," De Soulis said. "I am weary of this game she plays."

"Sir Sheriff, she chooses to be silent."

"'Tis said she has some magic about her."

"People say that you have magic too. That armor, I hear, is impenetrable and under some dark spell."

"Nonsense," De Soulis snapped.

"Then we understand each other."

"Mayhap. Tell me why the girl does not speak."

"She is pious and grieving. 'Tis all."

"She should be in a convent, then."

"She would be, if King Edward had not burned most of them," Malcolm said pointedly. "The girl is kind to her brothers and to our brethren, and tends to the swans. She is an innocent. Leave her be."

"She makes a fine hostage, as do her brothers. You will hear from me soon, Abbot Malcolm." De Soulis turned his horse.

"Stop!" Malcolm shouted. "You cannot keep them!"

"They provide assurance. We need the help of the monks of Inchfillan when the garrison at Elladoune departs. I suspect rebel activity in this area. But of course we can trust you, Abbot... can we not?"

"Certes. No hostages need ensure it."

"I will take them nevertheless. The king will want to see this Swan Maiden. As for the boys... what is the tradition among the Scots? Fostering? Consider them fostered by the sheriff of Glen Fillan. My wife will approve of them in her household, as she is without children of her own." He nodded brusquely. "Good day. Ride out," he snapped at the guards, and shifted forward.

Juliana gasped out, turning to look at her guardian.

"Where will you take them?" Malcolm demanded.

"Her brothers will stay at Dalbrae with my wife and my garrison," De Soulis said. "I will take an escort and convey the girl to Newcastle in safety."

"Newcastle-on-Tyne?" Malcolm asked. "Is the king there now?"

"He and his army have been making their way north toward Scotland and have reached Newcastle. 'Tis a short journey from here, a few days at most. She will be in the care of a military escort. The king will decide what is to be done with her."

Panic overtook Juliana then. She could scarcely breathe or think as she twisted against De Soulis's grip in terror. She could not go with these men, nor could she leave her brothers, or Malcolm, or this place. Desperation rose high and quick, and she shoved De Soulis. He wrenched her arm in fierce reply.

"I will come with her myself," the abbot said, "or I will send monks with her! 'Tis not right to take a female like this—the daughter of a laird—"

"Daughter of a rebel, and a rebel herself, most likely," De Soulis corrected. "A priest will be with my troops, and he can chaperone her." He spurred the horse and cantered away.

Juliana looked over her shoulder at the guards who carried her brothers. Alec's eyes were wide and frightened, and Iain emitted bold, earsplitting shrieks. Malcolm and some of the monks ran forward. The abbot ran on sturdy legs, his dark tunic flapping around his muscular calves.

Within moments, he loped alongside De Soulis's horse. "Be strong of heart!" he called to Juliana in Gaelic. "And keep your vow, Juliana—keep silent!"

Tears clouded her eyes as she watched Malcolm. He called out a reassurance to the boys, then stopped in the meadow.

"We will pray for you!" he yelled. "We will ask for a miracle!"

She looked toward the loch, where the two guards stood in the water. One hooked Artan, the large white cob, around the neck, and the other held a net, while the swan beat his wings in a fury.