The Border Lord's Bride (4 page)

Ellen will say nothing to anyone of her going. My aunt will leave here on the morrow with a party of her ladies to prepare Falklands for my arrival. By the time we reach Falklands in another week or so, anyone watching for Ellen MacArthur, and not finding her, will have no time to send to the MacDonald," the king told his friend.

The laird nodded. "I‘ll travel as quickly as she can," he promised.

"She rides well," Margaret Stewart said. "She‘s no pampered lass. But ‘tis fortunate her servant is too ill right now to travel, for poor Peigi and horses do not mix well at all. When she can travel, we will send her in a cart. Ellen can manage without her old servant, but how well Peigi can manage without her is another matter." She chuckled.

And indeed, Peigi was not pleased to learn her mistress would depart on the morrow without her.

"Ye canna go wi‘out me. It isn‘t decent," she complained.

"You cannot travel now, Peigi," Ellen said. "When you are fit again the princess has said she will send you home. There is no time now to pack all my garments. I intend taking next to nothing in my saddlebag. And we will ride hard to reach Lochearn as quickly as possible. You know how you hate riding. I‘m sure the princess will see that you come north in a cart with all my possessions." She sat on the edge of the bed next to Peigi and patted her hand comfortingly.

"I willna see ye wed," Peigi said, starting to weep.

"There is no help for it," Ellen answered her. "Grandsire is failing, Father Birk writes, and he would see me wed before he dies. I‘m almost eighteen now, and it is past time I had a husband. I just want you to get well again."

Peigi sneezed several times. Then she admitted, "As much as it distresses me, I really am nae able to accompany ye, my chick. Now tell me who will escort ye."

"The king has chosen a border lord of his acquaintance who has just arrived at court. His name is Duncan Armstrong, and he is the laird of Duffdour. He‘s very big, and very handsome," Ellen said with a small smile. "I suspect I will be safe with him."

"Young, then, he is?" Peigi noted.

"Not so young," Ellen replied.

"That‘s better, then," Peigi said. "A respectful older gentleman. My mind is more at ease knowing that. I wouldna want ye in danger of seduction by some stranger."

Ellen laughed. "He is handsome, but he did not appear to be foolish," she said. "And I am certain that the king would not put my safety into the hands of a rogue." She stood up. "I had best decide what I am to take with me tomorrow."

"Dress warmly," Peigi advised. "It is October, and each new day grows a bit colder, and the nights will be quite chilly now."

Ellen opened her trunk and dug down into its bottom, where she had placed her leather saddlebag when she had arrived at court. Drawing it out, she laid it on the foot of the bed, and then paused to consider. She would wear breeks, a shirt over a chemise, and her leather jerkin with the staghorn buttons. She took out a second chemise and shirt and two pair of knit hose, which she stuffed in the bag along with a hairbrush. She would wear her heavy woolen cape, which would serve as a coverlet at night wherever they slept. Digging deep into the trunk, she drew out last a small blue velvet cap with an eagle‘s feather in it. Pinned to the cap was her late father‘s silver clan badge with the MacArthur clan‘s motto, Fide et opera, which meant "By Fidelity and Work." Ellen always wore this cap when she rode out. She set it atop her saddlebag.

"Ye‘re nae taking much," Peigi noted.

"I don‘t want to burden the horse. I have what I need: a change of garments and warm socks, a hairbrush. I took the ashwood one. The carved oak one Grandsire gave me when I turned sixteen you will bring with you when you come home. Now I‘m going to go and fetch you some soup.

And I want to speak with the princess to make certain you are remembered when she leaves for Falklands tomorrow."

"Go along then," Peigi told her mistress.

Ellen hurried to the princess‘s apartments. They was an untidy jumble of books and garments and small musical instruments. It was, to Ellen‘s mind, the coziest place in the palace. There was no pretension in any room the king‘s aunt inhabited, and, oddly, James, a man who prized order, seemed to enjoy visiting his aunt in her own quarters, despite the disorder, no matter the castle or palace that he was inhabiting.

Seeing her enter, Margaret Stewart beckoned her forward and then, linking her arm through Ellen‘s, said, "We will walk." She directed their steps into her privy chamber, leaving the door open, but keeping her voice low. "You are ready?"

"I am, madam, but one boon I would beg. Until my Peigi can leave her bed—and I believe that will not be for a few more days—can you make arrangements to see she is cared for and fed? I know you leave for Falklands tomorrow."

"I will have one of my own women remain behind," the princess promised.

"This laird with whom the king sends me north—do you know him well?" Ellen wanted to

know.

"He was one of the border lords who supported my nephew in the last troubles with my late brother. He is a good man, Ellen. Set your mind at ease. Jamie would not put you in his care if he could not trust him."

"Thank you, madam," Ellen responded.

"Go and get some rest, lass. The morning will come quickly. Farewell, and Godspeed," Margaret Stewart said, taking Ellen by the shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. "Tell your grandfather that I said you were a good lass, and did the MacArthurs proud. I want him to know that before his end."

"Thank you, madam," Ellen replied, taking up the princess‘s big hand and kissing it. "It has been an honor to serve in your household." Then she backed from the room and hurried from the princess‘s apartments toward the kitchens to gather a supper for the bedridden Peigi and for herself.

It was dark when the little party led by the laird of Duffdour rode out from Linlithgow Palace.

The air was raw and chill. A light wind blew across the loch. The riders hunched down into their cloaks, still half-asleep with the predawn hour. And when the day came it was a gray one, although there was no rain until late afternoon, when the darkness arrived early because of the time of year. They sheltered in a small dry cave on the side of a hill, which allowed them a little campfire, over which they cooked the three rabbits they had trapped as they traveled. They ate them with the bread the laird had been given before they left the court. The cold salted meat that had also been included they saved for a day when they could not trap their meal; the hard-boiled eggs they had been given they would eat in the morning with the last of the bread.

The cave and its fire gave them refuge from the cold, rainy night outside. Ellen was glad she had worn her heavy woolen cloak. It was not elegant, like the beautiful velvet ones some of the girls at the court had possessed, but it kept out the bitter chill. They had ridden silently the day long but for a word now and again. When the laird offered her a bit of whiskey from the flask he carried, Ellen seized the opportunity to initiate a conversation.

"Have you known the king long?" she asked him. "How did you meet him?"

"My half brother, the laird of Cleit, is wed to a distant English cousin of the king‘s. I first met him several years ago when he came to Cleit. I was living there then, for ‘twas my oldest brother, Ian Armstrong, who was Duffdour‘s laird after our father died. Our mother married the Bruce of Cleit and gave him two sons, Conal, the eldest, and young Murdoc. Actually I was raised at Cleit. I barely remembered Duffdour."

"What happened to your brother?" Ellen asked him.

"He was killed at Sauchieburn," Duncan said. "As he had no wife or child the lands and laird‘s bonnet came to me."

"And have you a wife and child?" Ellen asked him, smiling.

"Nay, there has been no time for me to go courting since King James arrived on his throne," the laird said with an answering smile. "There is still much trouble in the borders, and keeping order isn‘t easy. And too, Duffdour needed my attention. My brother, Ian, God assoil his soul, had been its laird since he had been breeked, but he was not a man who thought ahead, being more like our father. The house was falling down and needed to be rebuilt. My cotters were living badly in crumbling cottages. I had not a penny, not even one of old King James‘s black ones, to my name."

"You seem to have survived nonetheless," Ellen noted.

Duncan Armstrong smiled at her remark. "Aye, I have, thanks to the king. He gave me a portion of the revenues he gains from the sale of livestock in the borders. It has allowed me to rebuild my home, and to rebuild my cotters‘ homes. We even built a church and have a priest. Duffdour is a prosperous place now, which is why I am forever having to defend it from the English." He chuckled. "They seem to think my cattle and sheep are there for the taking. I came to court this time to request royal permission to fortify my village and my house. They will be easier to defend, and suffer less damage from the English raiders that way."

"I hope the king agreed to your request before you were given the privilege of taking me back to Lochearn," Ellen said, laughing softly.

He grinned back at her. "He did. I‘m an easy man to bargain with, provided I get what I want, Ellen MacArthur." The laird chuckled.

"Now you must take a wife," she told him.

"Ah, but there is the problem. My sister-in-law taught my brother of Cleit a valuable lesson, and I learned from it. I‘ll only wed a woman I can love, and I haven‘t found one yet. But now you need to get some rest, for we will leave again just before dawn. Sleep near the fire, and I will rest on the other side of you. We should be able to keep somewhat warm, and from freezing that way," he told her.

She did as he bade her, pulling her hood up to cover her head and wrapping the cloak about herself tightly. Between the fire, which was kept burning the night long, and the bulk of the man lying by her side she was able to sleep. When the sound of the camp stirring awoke her the following morning, Ellen slipped deeper into the cave to relieve herself. Then, coming back to the fire she discovered a pot of water warming.

"I thought you might like to wash," the laird said to her as he lifted the small vessel from the coals. "We have no basin or cloth, I fear."

"I have a handkerchief," Ellen replied as she dipped it into the water and, wringing it out, washed her face. Then she washed her hands. The heat seeping into her fingers and palms felt wonderful.

"Thank you, my lord. ‘Twas most thoughtful." He handed her a small stick, and she cleaned her teeth with it. Then she accepted a hard-boiled egg and a chunk of bread from him, noticing that the six Armstrong clansmen and the messenger who had come to court and now returned with them were eating too.

The fire was carefully put out. The horses were saddled, and they ventured out into the dark morning. When the dawn finally came it was a bright one without wind, and they were able to ride comfortably the day long. The second night they stopped beneath a rock outcropping, but no cave was to be found to harbor them. They did not light a fire for fear of attracting robbers, and so their dinner was of cold meat and oatcakes that the clansmen carried. They traveled in this fashion for several days, some of those days and nights being more comfortable than others.

Ellen now rode by Duncan Armstrong‘s side, and he apologized for the rough mode of their journey. "The king has explained to me how important it is that I get you to your home safely,"

he said. "I am not a man to shirk my duty. By traveling in the manner we have, we have avoided most travelers, and the farther northwest we go the less likely we are to see anyone at all, as there are no real roads to take. Tomorrow I‘ll send your clansman on to Lochearn to let your grandfather know you are almost home."

"He is no one I recognize," Ellen said. "I was surprised that my grandsire did not send someone familiar to me, but I cannot know all the MacArthurs of Lochearn."

Immediately the laird of Duffdour was concerned. "You do not recognize the man as one of yours, lady?"

"Nay, my lord, I do not," Ellen said.

The laird signaled one of his men to come forward to ride with Ellen, and then he dropped his horse back until he was riding next to the messenger. "My lady says she does not recognize you as one of her own," he said quietly. "Are you a MacArthur of Lochearn?" His hand had moved slowly to his sword as he spoke.

"Nay, my lord," the messenger answered him. "I am nae MacArthur. I am a MacNab. ‘Tis my master, Lord Donald, who sent me."

"You wear no plaid or badge," the laird of Duffdour noted quietly.

"I could take nae chance of being identified by the MacDonald‘s spies, my lord," the man answered him calmly. "Ye ne‘er know who is watching."

"I had to ask," the laird replied.

The man nodded. "Aye," he said laconically.

"Tomorrow you will ride on ahead of us to let the lady‘s grandsire know she will be with him in another day or two," Duncan Armstrong instructed the messenger.

"Aye, my lord. If the good weather continues ye should reach Lochearn by midmorning of the day after tomorrow," the man told the laird.

The following day before they were ready to depart the messenger left them.

"Tell Donald MacNab that I am looking forward to our marriage," Ellen said to the messenger.

"And tell my grandsire that I have missed him terribly."

"Aye, my lady," the messenger responded.

"I‘m sorry we cannot reach Lochearn today," Ellen said with a sigh.

"The way is harder now," the laird noted. "The messenger will be fortunate to reach the keep before dark the second day, but alone he can travel faster than our small party can. Just another two nights on the trail, Ellen MacArthur."

"A few more meals of oatcakes and dried meat," she replied with a small smile. "How I long for a hot bath and a hot supper! I am relieved that my poor Peigi did not travel with us. It would have been very difficult for her."

"I can see you are eager to be home again," the laird remarked.

"I have missed Lochearn," Ellen admitted. "I have missed my grandsire. He is all the close blood family I have left. Donald and I are cousins, but it is not like my grandsire. I can‘t even remember my parents. Grandsire is all the family I have ever known. I wish he could live long enough to see my bairns and know the warmth of a family gathering once again. The realization that he will soon be gone is painful, and I cannot forgive the MacArthurs of Skye for forcing me from him these last months. He has had no one to look after him but the servants. He has been alone when he need not have been alone." Tears sprang to her eyes, and she brushed them quickly away.