The Border Lord's Bride (8 page)

"The man was a murderer," Duncan Armstrong said. "And he was a low cur to attempt to assault you, Ellen."

"He said he could see in my eyes that I wanted to flee. He said that with a bairn in my belly I would not run, for I would be too ashamed." Ellen sobbed.

"It‘s all right, lass," the laird soothed her. "You were but defending yourself from an attack. I will take you back to the king, Ellen MacArthur, and we will tell him what has happened. Jamie is a just man."

"But the MacDonald tries the king greatly, I know. And Balgair‘s family is in the MacDonald‘s service," Ellen said. "Will not the king want to assuage their anger?"

"James is a just man," the laird repeated. "He will not give you over to certain death. You were protecting yourself, avenging your grandsire, as was your right. Now, do you think you were followed? Or that anyone will divine where you have fled?"

"I was careful, and no one saw me leave," Ellen said. "And I locked my bedchamber door and threw the key in the loch. I suspect it was midday before anyone thought to seek out Balgair in my chamber. And they will not at first consider that I have fled farther than the woods about the keep. They will attend to Balgair first, and then perhaps tomorrow they will spend a day seeking me. After that I do not know."

The laird nodded. "Then we will be at least three days ahead of anyone seeking for you, if they are clever enough even to consider that you have fled to the king. They may believe you have perished in the forest, and your home will be taken as a forfeit by either the MacArthurs of Skye or the MacNabs. They will undoubtedly fight it out for Lochearn. It is unlikely you can ever return."

"I know," Ellen said. "I knew before Balgair came into my chamber that I must leave it for good, my lord." Several tears rolled down her cheeks. "How could I ever eat or dance in our hall again after seeing the bodies of my grandfather and poor Donald murdered in their chairs as they sat at the high board?" She brushed her tears away.

Jock brought Ellen an oatcake, and a small haunch of rabbit he had placed upon a large leaf.

"Mistress, you must eat."

Ellen gave him a tremulous smile. "Thank you," she said. "If you will seek in my saddlebag you will find almost an entire cottage loaf I took with me. It‘s still fresh. Portion it out among yourselves, Jock, and thank you for the whiskey. I feel warmer now." She began to eat the food she had been given.

"Will you be all right if I leave you for a few moments?" the laird asked her, and when she nodded he got up and joined his men. "We must keep a sharp eye out, lads. It‘s unlikely we‘ll be followed, but tomorrow we will make all haste to find the king and bring Mistress Ellen to safety. She has killed the man who murdered her grandfather and betrothed husband. We should have a few days‘ lead, but we cannot be certain they won‘t follow after the lass for revenge. It is our duty to get her to the refuge of the king‘s protection. Post a guard, and we will keep watch the night at three-hour intervals."

Ellen slept exhausted that night, realizing only as her eyes closed that but for a brief nap she had not slept in two days. She forced herself to remain awake the next day as they rode south at a far quicker pace than she had anticipated. After several days they came out of the western Highlands and down into the hills about Falklands Palace, where the king was now ensconced. Ellen had never been wearier in all of her life, but she was anxious to beg the king‘s protection, and to reassure Peigi that they would somehow survive this unfortunate turn in their fortunes now that they were homeless.

Falkland Palace was one of James IV‘s favorite palaces for hunting and relaxation. It had been built some two hundred years back, and while the king was now considering a new palace nearby, he still used the old one, which consisted of three rectangular wings set about a central courtyard. Its style was considered Scottish Gothic. They rode into the courtyard, and stablemen hurried to take their horses. Ellen could hardly walk at this point, for she was so tired. Duncan Armstrong had his arm about her shoulders as they walked.

"Where is Princess Margaret?" he asked a servant as they entered the palace, and when he was told, the laird directed his steps in the correct direction. The guardsmen at the door to the princess‘s apartments flung the doors open for them, and they passed through into Margaret Stewart‘s quarters.

The king‘s aunt was seated with some of her ladies, discussing a book of poetry, when they entered. Her eyes widened as she saw Ellen, and she immediately stood up. "What has happened, my lord?" she demanded of the laird.

"Please, madam, could a bed be found for this lady before she collapses?" Duncan said. "I will be glad to explain then."

"Peigi," Ellen said weakly.

"And could a messenger be sent to Linlithgow to Mistress Ellen‘s serving woman? She must not travel north to Lochearn," the laird said.

The princess directed two of her women to help Ellen to the women‘s dormitory, where she might rest. Then she sent a male servant to Linlithgow to prevent Peigi from leaving, and if possible to bring her back to Falkland. "Tell her that her mistress has returned and is with me."

Now Margaret Stewart turned to Duncan Armstrong. "Come, sir, into my privy chamber, where you will tell me what is going on. Should I send for my brother first?"

"If you would, madam. It would be simpler to tell the tale but once," the laird responded with a small smile.

Margaret Stewart nodded. "Katherine Gordon, go and fetch the king to me. Tell him I do not care what he is doing; he is to come with all possible haste."

The girl curtsied and hurried off. She was stunningly beautiful, the laird noted. Gordon. Perhaps Huntley‘s daughter? Curious, considering the Earl of Huntley‘s opposition to the young king, but hardly his business. Right now all he wanted to do was go home to Duffdour and begin fortifying it, now that he had permission. He had taken Ellen MacArthur to Lochearn, and he had brought her back when she sought his help. He had been away from home long enough. He would tell the king what had happened, and then he was finished. He wanted to go home.

James Stewart had been with Margaret Drummond when the Earl of Huntley‘s daughter had

come to fetch him. He had not wanted to leave his mistress‘s side, but Lord Drummond‘s daughter was no fool. She sent him off with a smile and a kiss to discover whatever it was his aunt had to tell him. The king was surprised to see the laird of Duffdour. He had assumed that Duncan Armstrong would return directly to his own home in the borders after delivering Ellen MacArthur to her grandfather. If he was here, however, then something was wrong.

"What has happened?" the king asked his border lord.

"There has been murder done at Lochearn. I arrived with the lass to discover that the MacArthurs of Skye had taken the keep. The old laird and his heir were tied to their chairs at the high board, where they had both been brutally slain. Then Balgair MacArthur produced a document he claimed was signed by the old laird. It made Balgair his heir, and instructed him to wed with his granddaughter, Ellen. I asked the lass if it were truly her grandsire‘s hand, and she said it was. I had no choice but to leave her there."

The king nodded. "Is that all?" he asked.

"Nay, my liege, it is not. We departed Lochearn with the new laird‘s promise to give the girl a month to mourn, for he would have wed her that same day had the priest been there; and he gave his promise not to follow us. We rode for half a day, and then another full day. That second night as the sun was setting Ellen MacArthur came into our camp. She was exhausted and frightened.

She says she has killed Balgair MacArthur. He attempted to rape her; she protected herself and fled. She begged us to bring her back to your protection, my lord, and so I have. She is in the Lady Margaret‘s household now," Duncan Armstrong said.

"The lass is worn out with her travels and her grief," Margaret Stewart said. "But she should not remain here, Jamie. She needs to be in a safe place. A place where she will be no cause for controversy between your troublesome lords. You will remember that the MacArthurs of Skye are greatly in the MacDonald‘s favor. I believe Ellen once told me that this Balgair is a son of the MacDonald‘s piper. The father will go to his master, and the master will call upon the king for justice—and for revenge."

"What of the poor MacArthurs of Lochearn, and the MacNab lad, who were murdered?" the laird of Duffdour said. "Is there no justice for them?"

"Nay," Margaret Stewart replied sanguinely. "Lochearn has no influence or power. It is a simple Highland holding. It is not right, but there is the truth of it."

"The lass has had her revenge, and it is fair," the king said. "She took the life of the man who murdered her grandfather and betrothed husband. There is no disputing those facts. When the MacDonald sends to me with his own tale I must render some form of kingly justice to satisfy him and his piper. Mistress Ellen is not likely ever to be safe again at Lochearn. Since the MacArthurs of Skye coveted the holding, I will give it to them as a forfeit for their kinsman‘s life."

"And the girl?" Margaret Stewart asked. "What is to become of Ellen MacArthur?"

"As you have said, Aunt, she cannot remain here at court. This unimportant little lass could nonetheless prove a flash point for partisan squabbles. We must find a safe haven for her," the king said. And then his blue eyes grew bright, and he looked directly at the laird of Duffdour.

"Take her home with you, Duncan," he said, and James Stewart grinned wickedly. "You have already made yourself the lass‘s champion. It is the perfect solution. And she will be safe. Would any at Lochearn remember the man who brought Mistress Ellen home? It‘s quite doubtful. Until the MacDonald sends to me, and I may settle this unfortunate matter, the lass can be hidden at Duffdour."

"My lord, mine is a man‘s house. I have no women in it—not even servants, for I saw the trouble women servants brought to my brother before his marriage. I cannot take an innocent lass like Ellen MacArthur into my home. Her reputation must be considered. One day she will certainly wed, and what would any man think of a wife who spent time in another man‘s household alone?

You must find another place for her."

Margaret Stewart leaned over and murmured something in her nephew‘s ear.

"You have a sister, my aunt informs me, who bears my aunt‘s name," the king said.

"Maggie? She‘s a nun at the convent of St. Mary near Duffdour," the laird acknowledged. "They are an almost cloistered order, and I haven‘t seen her in years," he said. "Aye, you could put Mistress Ellen at St. Mary‘s, my lord. She would be quite safe."

"Nay," the king replied. "I will send to the mother superior of this convent, asking her to release Sister Margaret in order that she may chaperone a young ward of mine who will be sheltering with the laird of Duffdour."

"But wouldn‘t the convent be a better place for Mistress Ellen?" the laird protested nervously.

What was he to do with the lass?

"There is always the possibility that the MacDonald could learn where Ellen is, and you are in a far better position to protect the lass than is a convent of almost cloistered nuns," the king responded with a chuckle. "Nay, Duncan, I am putting the lass in your charge. I will see that she has a small purse to pay for any expenses she may incur, for I know you are not a rich man." He looked to his aunt. "When can the lass travel?"

"She must have several days of rest, Jamie," Margaret Stewart said. "And I have already sent to fetch her servant and possessions from Linlithgow. They should both be ready to travel within a week‘s time, my lord."

The king nodded. "Excellent," he said. "I know you‘ll do a fine job of caring for Mistress Ellen, Duncan. She‘ll find the borders far different from her Highlands."

"But every bit as hostile, my lord," the laird said. "The English grow more bellicose every day. I wish we might put an end to it. I had hoped for peace between you and King Henry, but he is as bad as his predecessors."

"I wonder if there will ever be a real peace between Scotland and England," came the king‘s observation. "This Tudor thinks highly of himself, but ‘tis only his wife‘s blood that gives him legitimacy. There are yet those alive with stronger claims to England‘s throne than Henry Tudor.

I have heard it said that King Edward‘s youngest son, Richard, still lives. Would his not be the stronger claim?"

"My lord, my brother‘s wife has told us that her brothers were murdered at Middlesham Castle after King Richard‘s defeat," Duncan said.

"Her tale was secondhand," James Stewart murmured thoughtfully. Then he brought himself back again. "Give Ellen MacArthur time to rest, and then take her home with you. I will send a message to St. Mary‘s convent tomorrow. You may expect to find your sister awaiting you when you get home."

The laird of Duffdour bowed and backed from Margaret Stewart‘s privy chamber. This

afternoon‘s turn of events had surprised him. He would have to send one of his men home to Duffdour with instructions to his household steward to prepare bedchambers for both his sister and Ellen. His cook would have to be ready to create daintier meals. And what the hell was the lass supposed to do to amuse herself in his house? He had a small library. Perhaps that would be of interest to her.

And his sister! Margaret had been the oldest of them. He barely remembered her. He had been five when his father died. Six when his mother married the Bruce of Cleit and taken him with her. Ian had been left behind, as at the age of ten he had become the new laird. Maggie, at thirteen, had shown a distinct preference for the church, and so went to St. Mary‘s with her small dower portion. The last time he had seen her was after Ian was killed. He had gone to her convent to tell her and ask her prayers for their brother‘s soul, and for his. Prior to that he had seen her when their mother had died. And before that he could not even remember, it had been so long. How did one entertain a nun? He expected he was going to find out soon enough.

Duncan did not seek Ellen MacArthur for several days. He knew she needed time to rest and recover from her shock. He wondered if anyone had bothered to tell her that she would be going to Duffdour for her safety. After three days he sought out the princess‘s old tiring woman, and asked after Ellen.