Drake’s Honor

by Martin, Madeline

  “Lord Calver attacked him.” She breathed in and slowly let the air out to steady her racing heart. “I wish to testify against Lord Calver.”

  “Testify in what manner?” The king lifted a brow, though she didn’t know if he was intrigued or merely placating her.

  “He was skimming the taxes he owed ye, and he killed Lady Eileen when she threatened to unveil his perfidy.”

  “What did ye say?” a voice said from somewhere behind Greer.

  She glanced over her shoulder to find an older man striding toward her, his face strained. “About Lady Eileen.” The guards parted for him, and when he approached, she could see such pain in his eyes that she knew without a shadow of a doubt he must be the dead woman’s father.

  “Forgive me,” she said gently. “But Lord Calver was responsible for Lady Eileen’s death.”

  The man cast a desperate look up to the king, who fixed his attention on Greer. “What proof do ye have of this?”

  “A witness,” Greer said as she scanned the room in the hope Bean and Mac would make haste. “One Lord Calver had in the dungeon and meant to keep silenced by hanging him.”

  As if summoned by her desperation, a door to the right opened, and Bean entered with Mac. Greer’s brother appeared even younger than his twelve summers from the weeks of starvation in a dank, sunless cell. Already diminutive, he appeared to shrink into himself at the attention of so many eyes.

  “He’s just a bairn.” The king waved Mac over and addressed him directly. “Ye were placed in the dungeon for what ye saw?”

  Mac looked around him, his eyes enormous in his small face as he took in how many people were attentively watching him.

  “Leave us.” The king’s command was given with such volume that it echoed from the stone walls.

  The room cleared at once, so only the king, Mac and Greer remained. And Lord Androll.

  Greer had moved to depart as well, but the king held up his hand to indicate she should stay.

  The king leaned forward in his chair and peered at Mac. “Did ye see Lord Calver kill Lady Eileen?”

  Mac nodded. “Aye, yer majesty.”

  “What was she wearing?” Lord Androll demanded.

  Mac squinted in the distance as he appeared to call upon his memory. “A pink kirtle and a necklace with pink stones.”

  The color drained from Lord Androll’s face at hearing proof that Mac had seen his daughter on her last day alive. He nodded at King David, who nodded toward Mac. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

  “I saw them in the clearing in the woods that day,” Mac replied earnestly. “She said he was committing treason, that he wasn’t giving the king the full taxes, and she knew about it, that she would tell. He told her to mind herself, but she wouldna stop talking about how he was stealing from the crown. Before she could finish what she had to say, his face went the color of roasted pig, and he ran at her, hitting her with his fists and screaming like a madman.” Mac’s lips twisted slightly as he paused. “I was hiding behind a tree until then and ran out when I saw him hit her. But before I could get to her, he struck her with such force that her head turned to the side. She dropped to the ground, and dinna get back up. The way she fell like that, I knew I couldna help anymore.”

  Mac stared off in the distance as he spoke, his gaze haunted by what he’d witnessed.

  “’Twas brave of ye to try,” the king offered.

  Mac blinked at the words and jerked his attention to the king. “I suppose it was…” The left toe of his shoe dug into the rushes at his feet in his bashful acceptance of the compliment.

  The king lifted his brows. “And that’s when the earl saw ye.”

  “Aye. Lord Calver shoved at her, so she rolled down the hill, and that’s when he saw me. I tried to hide, but his guards came after me later, capturing me.” Mac shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They wouldna tell me what I’d done wrong or let me out. They wouldna even get notice to my sister—” He paused and sniffled.

  Greer’s heart clenched at how terrified he must have been—confused and alone in that dark, terrible cell.

  “Thank ye for sharing this,” the king said in a grave voice.

  Mac nodded and twisted the toe of his worn shoe into the rushes once more.

  The king kept his face impassive as he dismissed them. As Greer was leading Mac from the room, the king asked the guards to bring up the prisoner.

  The strength in her legs bled away, and she nearly collapsed at the implication of that order. She only hoped that Mac had shared enough and the king had believed him.

  Drake’s life depended on it.

  23

  “The king wants to see ye.”

  The gruff voice pulled Drake from his contemplation. His thoughts sped tenfold as the door to his cell opened. This might be his only chance to stand before the king and give his defense. There had to be some way of getting out of his predicament.

  The Great Hall had been cleared of all occupants save the king, Lord Androll and two guards on either side of them.

  “Drake Fletcher, ye stand accused of killing Lord Calver.” The young king curled his fingers over the arms of his carved chair. “What say ye?”

  “I should like to start by stating that Beathan MacKenzie dinna have a hand in any of it and was ignorant of my actions.” Drake widened his stance, determined to fight for his freedom with honor, to rely on justice and protect those he could. “’Twas my blade that sliced Lord Calver’s skin, aye, but the slice was unintentional. He was attacking me, and I moved to evade his blow. I lowered my sword to avoid causing harm at the exact moment he lunged. There are leg wounds in battle sometimes—”

  The king put up his hand to stop Drake. “Did he attack ye first?”

  “He attacked a bairn and my wife first. I couldna stand by and see them injured, so I defended them.” Drake gave a respectful nod toward Lord Androll. “The lad had information about Lady Eileen’s death. Something Lord Calver dinna want to get out.”

  “We know.” The king narrowed his eyes. “Why did ye come here?”

  Drake frowned. “I beg yer pardon, sire?”

  “Ye knew ye had slain a nobleman, yet still ye came to Dunfermline Palace, though surely ye were aware an army would be waiting for ye.” The king’s dark gaze fixed on Drake.

  “I did know that,” Drake acquiesced. “But I regret none of my decisions.”

  The king’s auburn brows lifted in surprise. “How so?”

  “I’m no’ the type of man to run,” Drake said. “I dinna regret my choice to rescue the lad from the dungeon. He shouldna have been there at all and would have hanged were he no’ freed. Rescuing him was the honorable thing to do. As was coming here to fulfill my mission.”

  “Ye returned knowing ye would likely be taken to the dungeon, just so ye could complete the task we sent ye on?”

  Drake nodded firmly. “Aye, my liege. The lad has information concerning the death of Lord Androll’s daughter I thought ye ought to know.”

  The king nodded. “We’re well aware.”

  Then Greer had already managed to get an audience for Mac to speak to the king.

  “The lad has been verra brave.” Drake might have chains on his wrists, but it would not stop him from asking for the boy’s protection. “There are many who would see him harmed for what he knows. I beg of ye to ensure he remains safe.”

  The corner of the king’s mouth quirked upward. “Ye plead for the life of another, even as ye stand before us accused of the murder of a nobleman.”

  Drake didn’t cower from such words spoken by the king. “Mac is an innocent with unfortunate timing.”

  The king pushed up from his chair and slowly made his way down the three stairs. Lord Androll said nothing but remained in place, simply watching.

  Drake’s heartbeat echoed in his ears, but he refused to show any emotion.

  The king gazed up at him. Up close, Scotland’s monarch appeared even younger than he did from a distance, his fac
e as smooth and unlined as a bairn’s beneath his short beard. “Ye truly are an honorable man.”

  His words took Drake aback.

  “Ye did exactly as we asked ye,” the king continued. “At risk to yer own freedom, and ye dinna once plea for yerself, but only for those ye meant to protect. Those who warrant protection given their age and innocence.” He nodded slightly to himself. “We recall yer da was a knight. They say ’tis why ye wish to be one as well.”

  The very mention of Drake’s father crushed at his chest. He nodded, unsure how to even respond to such a devastating reminder.

  “We believe,” the younger man said, “we believe yer father would be verra proud of what ye’ve done.”

  Proud?

  Drake tilted his head, unsure he had heard correctly.

  “We canna think of a single man who would return to face certain capture to fulfill their duty.” The king gave a broad smile and patted Drake on the shoulder. “We exonerate ye from blame relating to the death of the Earl of Calver.”

  Drake exhaled, unable to stifle his shock.

  “And as for becoming a knight…” The king summoned a guard and indicated Drake’s manacles. “Ye fulfilled yer end of the agreement.”

  The guard stepped forward and unlocked the manacles from Drake’s wrists, releasing their leaden weight from his arms.

  “We will now fulfill ours.” The king smiled. “We will see ye knighted as soon as a feast can be prepared.”

  The change of events had Drake reeling. He had come to the Great Hall expecting to be charged with murdering an earl and being sentenced to death. Never had he dreamed of being still considered for knighthood.

  “Thank ye,” he whispered. The emotion and gratitude overwhelmed him, leaving him bereft of anything more to say.

  “Thank yer wife.” The king waved his hand toward a guard, who opened the door. “Her tenacity in meeting with us proved yer innocence, which ye confirmed with yer answers, all of which have been supported by other men who were there as well.”

  Greer ran through the now-open doorway, not stopping as she raced over the rushes toward him. She wore a green brocade gown, with her lustrous auburn hair pulled back from her face in a series of braids. Her skin was like cream against the fabric, and her eyes shone brilliantly as emeralds.

  She looked every bit a noblewoman.

  Drake nearly asked where she’d gotten the kirtle but then realized the answer was most likely not one best witnessed by the king.

  “My husband.” She threw herself into his arms.

  He wrapped her in his arms, savoring the familiar curves of her body and the sweet, floral scent he feared he would never breathe in again. “I’m free,” he said against her silky hair. “Thanks to ye.”

  “More than free,” the king added. “He’s to become a knight.”

  She blinked up at Drake, tears welling in her eyes. “What’s happened?”

  “I’ll tell ye in detail.” He embraced her again and whispered into her ear, “After we celebrate.”

  * * *

  The feast for Drake’s knighting celebration was prepared within two days. While Greer reluctantly had to return the green kirtle to the laundry, she was able to procure a lovely emerald-colored gown to match Drake’s new tunic.

  She entered the Great Hall, which had been laid out with flowers adorning the tables and fine pewter bowls of food and flagons filled with rich, luxurious wine. She and Mac were shown to a table of honor beside the king, where Bean was already sitting with a wide smile on his face.

  Drake entered the room, and all conversation stopped. Greer’s heart swelled to see her handsome husband as he strode confidently toward the dais, his back straight, shoulders squared. She knew exactly how long he had wanted this, as well as what he had done to earn it.

  Most especially, she knew what this meant to him—a legacy made whole, knowing his father would have been so incredibly proud.

  He knelt before the king, who lightly touched the flat of a gleaming blade first to one of Drake’s shoulders, then the other. It was then that Drake swore his oath of fealty in a clear, even voice, the timbre of it echoing from the high rafters. The king presented Drake with the coveted golden spurs of a knight and a noble sword fashioned specifically for him.

  And it was done.

  Drake was a knight.

  After spending so much of his life struggling in ways that Greer knew all too well, after rising high with the English and falling low to save his sister from certain death, after thinking he was to lose his life for the sake of honor—finally, he was knighted.

  Tears clogged her throat when he approached the dais where she sat. He knelt before her and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. As he did so, his gaze held hers, filled with such love that her heart felt as though it could scarcely fit in her chest.

  “I’m so proud of ye,” she whispered.

  “I couldna have done it without ye, my bonny wife.” He got to his feet and settled into the chair beside her, pausing to grin at Mac, who beamed at him with the same admiration as Bean did.

  Drake sliced off the best part of the venison before them and slid it onto the plate in front of Greer. “Before the ceremony began, the king came to me and said he had approved my post on Skye.”

  Eagerness charged through Greer. They had discussed the idea of moving away from the border to the Isle of Skye where his family was, and he could ensure her and Mac’s care when he was called to his purpose. Where it would be safe.

  “There is a manor near Dunscaith Castle he has given us as a wedding present.” Drake let his hand graze hers as he reached for a roll. “And made a point to state it is an ideal place for bairns.”

  “Then we shall have to consider growing our family.” Greer slid him a smile.

  “My da is here.” Bean leapt up from the table abruptly. “My da is here. He came.”

  Mac jumped from his seat and joined Bean as they dashed across the room to where a tall man with silver hair greeted them both.

  “It appears we’ll be finally meeting Bean’s da after all we’ve heard about him,” Greer said, smiling at the lad’s enthusiasm as she pushed up from her seat along with Drake.

  The man followed the eager boys back to the dais and inclined his head to Greer and Drake with a grin reminiscent of Bean’s. His eyes were the same brilliant blue as well. While Greer did not know what the lad’s mother looked like, he evidently favored his da.

  “I’ve no’ ever seen my lad so excited,” the man said. “Felicitations, Sir Drake.” He locked arms with him. “And Lady Fletcher.”

  It was strange to be treated with such deference after a lifetime of being little more than a vagrant, yet it was a shift Greer could easily get used to.

  “Well met…” Drake paused so that the man might give his name.

  “Duncan MacKenzie.” He inclined his head again.

  Drake straightened. Greer glanced at him to ascertain why he had such a curious reaction and found her husband’s gaze on the hilt of a dagger near the man’s hip, where a small golden rose had been etched.

  “Duncan MacKenzie,” Drake repeated.

  “Aye.” The man’s smile widened.

  “I believe ye may know my mother.” Drake paused a moment before saying her name, “Cait Ross.”

  The muscles of Duncan’s neck stood out as he sucked in a hard breath. “Cait?”

  “Are ye the Duncan MacKenzie I think ye to be?” Drake asked. “The one she loved in her youth?”

  “She wasna the only one in love.” Duncan’s affable expression took on a sad note. “I pray she is still well.”

  “She is,” Drake replied. “She was widowed when I was a lad and now lives on Skye with my sisters and their bairns.”

  “Widowed?” Duncan swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  But he did not look so terribly sorry to hear it.

  “I too am a widower,” he replied. “My wife did not survive Beathan’s birth.”

  “We are
venturing to Skye soon,” Greer interjected. “Mayhap ye might join us. To see where Bean will be staying now that he has officially become Drake’s squire.”

  Duncan nodded. “Aye, I’d like that.”

  “Ye’re going to join us on Skye?” Bean asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What a grand adventure.”

  “Indeed, it will be.” Drake helped Greer to her chair once more before taking his own.

  “Yer mother was in love with him?” Greer asked as her eyes followed Bean and his father as they took their seats on the opposite side of the table.

  “She thought my grandda had him killed.” Drake lifted his brows. “I imagine it will be quite a surprise to her to find him still alive.”

  Greer slid a bit of venison into her mouth and thought as she chewed, imagining what it would be like to be separated for years from Drake, to presume him dead only to find him alive and themselves both widowed. “I imagine she will be most pleased.”

  “Aye, we have much to look forward to upon our arrival at our new home.” Drake covered her hand with his and gazed tenderly down at her, a silent promise for the life they would live together, the one that had seemed little more than a fantasy only days before.

  * * *

  September 1342

  Isle of Skye

  The journey to Dunscaith Castle had been time consuming to keep the exertion of travel from being too taxing on Greer or Mac. Though they both insisted they were fully recovered, Drake wanted to ensure Greer’s injury did not fester again, and that Mac continued to build his strength after his time in the dungeon.

  Additionally, Drake had wanted to allow them to gather what they wanted from their cottage by Lochmaben, as well as collect Bean’s horse, Brevis, who made the journey as well as any hearty destrier.

  The welcome they received was entirely worth the duration of the journey.

  Drake’s brother-in-law, Reid, was the captain of the guard at Dunscaith Castle and the first to see them.