Knight's Legacy

by Trenae Sumter

  Chapter Sixteen

  But I would not have you be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep in death, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

  ~Thessalonians 4:13

  Roderic took charge of the burial when they returned, and did his best to spare Cat the task of preparing the body. Glyniss took charge, and though she had done it many times before, she cried silent tears throughout the task. Dressing Meggie in the lace gown that she had worn when she wed Douglas, she even put flowers and ribbons in her hair.

  Douglas was prostrate, numb with disbelief, unable to accept that Meggie was gone. He had sat with Meggie, pale and quiet, and when Edna brought the babe to him, thinking the child would give him comfort, and he could not bear to look upon her. Edna took charge of the wee babe, for though Glyniss pronounced the child hale and well, she was too busy with the laying out of the body.

  The following morning, Glyniss came into the room to direct the three soldiers that were to take the body. She found that Catherine had come in very early to be with Meggie. Roderic stood to the side of the bed, staring out the window. Cat sat quietly holding Meggie’s hand, stroking her cheek, and spoke in a low voice when she said her farewell. She touched Meggie’s hair, and Glyniss came to stand beside her.

  “ ’Tis time, lady,” Glyniss said.

  The tears streamed down Cat’s face and dropped on the bedding. “Aye, I know. I find myself … hoping I can somehow warm her. She’s so cold.”

  Roderic turned as if he could bear no more and gently took his wife’s arm, helping her rise from the bed. “Come, love. ’Tis time for the soldiers to take her.”

  Glyniss watched her friend, the lady who claimed to be Brianna Mackay, lean upon her husband. Always one to walk in pride and strength, she seemed to wither. He held her fast in his strong arms and, for once, there was no effort in his lady to stand alone.

  The days passed slowly after Meggie’s death, and Glyniss and Roderic despaired at the change they saw in Cat. She was withdrawn, ate little, and cared naught about the running of the keep. She referred Edna to Roderic about even the small decisions for the kitchens, and rarely ventured out, even to ride or hunt with Kenneth.

  Roderic became harsh with his warriors on the training field. He came back to the keep drained and spent, and it was clear to Glyniss that he was fretting inwardly about the dismal sadness he saw in his wife.

  Meggie’s death cast a pall over the entire castle. One and all were tired in spirit, but Glyniss had more regard for Cat. The lady tried her best to avoid tending the wee babe, so Glyniss and Edna took turns caring for her. Cat saw in the child the painful memory of her mother’s death.

  “How long will she be so broken in her spirit?” Roderic asked.

  “I ken not, but never should I have let her near when Meggie was birthing her babe. She reaches out to help others, and I thought not beyond having someone to help me. But some cannae see the suffering of others, as a healer does. Sir Roderic, how I wish I had sent her from that room long before the babe was born. But bear it now she must. ’Tis a hard way for a woman fully grown, least one as young and small as Meggie. By the time I kenned we should send her from the room, ‘twas too late. I was too hard on the task to save the lass, to stop the bleeding.”

  “You did your best, Glyniss. Indeed, even Douglas knows it to be true.”

  “Does he still sit by the grave?”

  “Aye, and with his own thoughts,” Roderic said.

  “My real fret is that he willnae look at that child. ’Tis his own daughter. Brianna Catherine will come to a place of tolerance of the child, yea though, Douglas is another matter. ’Tis as if he blames the child for taking Meggie away.”

  “Aye, that is true, therefore, the babe shall stay here. Douglas has entreated me to keep her,” Roderic said.

  “Ahh! What do ye say?”

  “ ’Tis true,” Roderic said.

  “The stubborn, selfish boy! Does he think her to be a pup that he doesnae want?”

  “Glyniss, we must not put that child with him if he doesn’t want her. It would not be safe for the babe. May Douglas walk through his struggle with God in his own way, in his own time. We must not allow the child to suffer for it.”

  Glyniss scoffed. “ ’Tis the truth ye speak, but I cannae help but feel a hot ire at that lad’s self-indulgence. The wee lass is all he has of Meggie now, and he spurns her.”

  “Aye. He leaves on the morn,” Roderic said.

  Douglas stood near the grave striving to control his rage. His dearest girl, his Meggie, was gone. In her place was a wee lass, a tiny babe that one day would grow to a young woman, but he knew not if he could ever look upon her without feeling a deep-seated resentment. She was the death of her mother, and Douglas could not find the strength to reach beyond his own pain.

  Lady Brianna approached him. She stood silent for a moment, the wind moving the flame-colored strands of her hair in a gentle circle about them.

  “Roderic said you are to leave us?”

  “Aye, Lady Montwain.”

  “And you do not plan to take the baby? Why, Douglas? Meggie would not want you to leave her.”

  The young man grimaced and swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly.

  “I cannae bear it, not without her. The child is the cause of her death.”

  “Douglas!”

  Ignoring her, he turned and walked to his horse, mounted, and returned to the keep.

  Calum Mackay’s messenger had ridden hard to catch up with him. He was carrying a missive scroll from Laird Kincaid.

  “Alastair Kincaid is dead,” Calum said. “Kincaid petitions me to come to him, but he seeks answers as to why the lad was killed.”

  “And your daughter?” Graham asked.

  “He says naught of her. We go now. We ride for Kincaid’s lands.”

  “He has an army!”

  “Aye, a very steadfast, powerful army,” Calum said.

  Two days later Kincaid’s warriors and sentinels allowed them to pass, they knew Mackay had been petitioned by their Laird. Many of their colors flew at half-mast on their staffs, they wore black arm-bands, and there was a mourning wreath on the door of the Kincaid keep. They entered the house of mourning with respect, and one of the men bid them in to the great hall. Soon the Kincaid Laird entered the hall with his wife beside him. He turned briefly to the beautiful woman at his side, and spoke.

  “Leave us now, love.” She nodded her assent and picked up her skirts to leave the chamber.

  Kincaid ordered ale, and they sat down at the large table.

  “May ye have peace in the time of your sorrow,” Calum said.

  The big man raised his dark head, and his eyes narrowed as he pondered the statement. “Best ye have no part in it.”

  “Nay, Kincaid, I did not. I sent my girl to your brother so that I would not have to give her to the Englishmon. Damn the King and his order!”

  “ ’Tis not the tale uttered by Alastair, for he spoke to me of plans to steal your Brianna.”

  “Scurried her away to him, I did,” Calum said. “I put another lass in her place to give to Montwain, for he wouldnae know one from the other. His army has taken me lands with an iron fist, and his warriors move about as they please. No doubt he was told of the deception and sought to find them. If your brother lies dead, it be at Montwain’s hand, for he was to have married Brianna. The English dog wanted revenge.”

  “And how do you know this, Mackay?”

  “He is dead, is he not, young Alastair? And the girl is nowhere to be found. Methinks she has been killed by the Englishmon.”

  “Why would he kill a woman, even one that humiliated him?”

  “I know not! I say I have pondered on the puzzle. The lass would know who killed Alastair. He couldnae let her live to go to the King with his deed.”

  “You have no word of your daughter from the King?”

  “Nay,” Calum said.

  “Alexander’s messenger came wi
th Alastair’s body. He has given me the King’s vow to see Alastair righteously avenged.”

  “Think ye he will revoke the gifts he gives to the Englishmon? Take away his blessing? Ahhh! Nay, Kincaid. Ye be a fool if ye ken that.”

  “Call me no fool, ye old thief! If what you say is true, and Alastair did die at his hand, I will have his head on a pike, if I must go against Alexander to do it!”

  “Aye, ’Tis what must be done, and I will join ye. We must lay siege to Montwain. Surround him, we could. Force Alexander’s judgment.”

  “I’ll not attack a man before I know the truth.”

  “Who else but the Englishmon would want your brother dead? He gave ruin to Alexander’s plan and disgraced Montwain before all in the Highlands by takin’ the woman he was to wed.” Calum laughed heartily. “I gave him a madwoman we captured. She be a simpleton that Angus dragged out of the water, but she be fair enough for his kind! Sooner would I see Brianna dead than have my blood blend with his.”

  “Ye have no army, so ye come in supplication for mine?”

  “Better ye leave the murderer of your kin to grow fat and prosper in the Highlands?”

  Kincaid’s second in command, a very large, blond man, addressed his Laird. “Dinnae allow your grief to rule ye.”

  Kincaid slammed his fist on the table. “My grief is my own,” he said hoarsely. After a very long pause, Kincaid addressed Mackay.

  “We are in mourning here. I will take time to think on this. Ye and your men have leave to stay until I resolve yea or nay.”

  “So be it,” Calum said.

  The following day they held the ceremony of burial for Alastair, and after the long day was over and the sun had set, Kincaid once again sent for Mackay. As they spoke, they overheard the weeping coming from the chamber belonging to the mother of the Laird. She mourned her son, and the sound of it had a visible affect on Laird Kincaid.

  Calum spoke as if searching for an answer. “If we send a message to Alexander to meet us at my holding, we can tell him of our suspicions, and mayhap he will hear our outcry for justice. We needn’t attack. We can but surround him and wait for the King’s decree.”

  The Kincaid Laird raised his hand. “There will be no battle, ‘less I sanction it?”

  “Aye,” Calum said.

  Kincaid sat silent for a long while, deep in thought. Mackay waited patiently for him to give his answer. Finally, he spoke.

  “I made a vow to my brother’s memory that put a sword, I would, to the mon that took his life. Best the King know, true to this vow I shall be.”

  The Laird took a deep breath and heaved a weary sigh. “Ye got your army, Mackay.”

  Glyniss walked from the keep to the stable, the babe in her arms. She was resigned to a difficult task, but she was never one to prolong a challenge in hope of a reprieve.

  It was long in the evening. Meggie’s baby girl held some of her hair in her tiny fist as she went to find Lady Montwain in the stable. Her friend glanced up, saw that she had the babe, and dropped her gaze.

  “Tell me, lady, what be your true name?”

  “Why does it matter? If you address me as such it will breed suspicion in my husband and the others.”

  “Think ye to go on with the lie?” Glyniss stood patting the baby, her expression one of pained tolerance.

  “I must. I have no choice,” she said, shaking her head while she continued to brush the horse.

  “So, ye think to do a better job of this than the soldiers?”

  Cat went on with the task and did not answer. “I don’t mind the work.”

  “There be plenty to do, lady, in the keep. I could use a bit of help with this babe.”

  “Can Edna not help you?”

  “Edna has many a chore to do,” Glyniss said. Sitting down on a large tub of grain with a heavy wooden lid, she put the babe to her breast and patted her gently.

  “Lady Montwain?”

  “Aye?”

  “Thee is in agony.”

  Cat tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and turned to Glyniss. Tears welled in her eyes, but they did not fall.

  “Aye,” she said. “I feel a rage inside, Glyniss, as if I will never … ever understand why Meggie had to die.”

  “Think ye are to have the answers, do ye? Have ye lost your faith?”

  Having no answer, she stood silent. Glyniss stood up, and beckoned her.

  “Stop grooming that animal and come here.”

  Cat put down the brush and came to her. “Sit down,” Glyniss said.

  Reluctantly, she obeyed and settled herself on the wooden tub.

  “Many a tragedy have I seen as a healer, far worse than what happened to Meggie. Wee children beaten to death by their own. Young wives like Meggie who took a knife to their insides to get rid of another babe they couldnae feed, only to die of the damage they wrought. Young girls raped and abused. I heard once of a clansmon who hung his own wife because his food was too hot.”

  Cat turned her face and raised her hand briefly as if she could not bear to hear more.

  “Be it all no matter, lass, I do ask your pardon, for ye are not a healer, and ye have seen too much death.”

  Cat shook her head in protest when Glyniss bent down and handed her the baby. She gave in and gently wrapped the tiny, warm body to her chest. Glyniss put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder and went on.

  “Grieve, lass. But never forget the beauty in life, or the love. Many tiny bairns have I helped to come in to this world. ’Tis wondrous, a new life, a new beginning. Should the melancholy overtake ye, but reach out and see God’s hand. See the hope He gives us all. It’s here in every sunrise, and in that child’s eyes.”

  Glyniss walked regally out of the stable, twisting back briefly to speak. “Mayhap, we may christen her Hope? I favor the name.”

  Cat looked down at the infant when Glyniss walked out, and burst into tears. The baby girl had her mother’s blue eyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker; but he that honoureth him hath mercy on the poor.

  ~Proverbs 14:31

  Cat found a unique comfort in taking care of the baby. The little one was officially christened Hope, as Glyniss preferred, and a lady of the clan, a wet nurse, moved into the keep, making it was easier to feed the babe. Once fed, Cat took over her care. At times, Kenneth was sulky about her lack of time for him but, by and large, he was as fascinated with the babe as he had been when she was still in the womb. The baby became a particular delight to the young man.

  A month passed, and while the babe grew chubby they all were relieved no further threats of war came from the Gordon clan. As Douglas had returned to his father, the Gordon Laird was content.

  Cat had never experienced such an unusual burst of love as for the baby girl, and stayed close to the keep, rarely venturing out to hunt. Hope was lying on the blanket in front of the hearth one evening when Glyniss approached her. Cat was a bit embarrassed caught cooing to Hope.

  “I’m being silly, I know,” she said to Glyniss.

  “Nay, not at all. This one is a sweet-tempered babe. ‘Twould be one with no heart at all to be unmoved by her, and she quick has become the princess of this keep.”

  Cat picked the baby up and moved her to rest on her shoulder, smiling. “Aye, that’s true. I think I even saw Gavin smiling at her last eve.”

  “Ah, but, lady, that be the first time for ye to take note of that? He loves to make her giggle by tickling her under her wee chin. And your husband? That mon is besotted!”

  Cat kissed the baby softly on the top of her head. “She has a winning way about her, even with strong warriors.”

  “A month gone and still not a bit of word from Douglas. I confess I thought he would relent and want the child.”

  “Let him try,” Cat said. “He’ll not have her.”

  “Nay, I hope not. I, too, ken it best for the wee one to be here with those who love her. But Highlanders look out for the
ir own, and mayhap one day the Gordons could come for her. They may wish someday to pledge her in marriage, for she be part of their blood.”

  Cat was to remember the conversation with Glyniss there by the fire, when Hope was only days past being four months old, Roderic was given the message that the Gordon Laird and his son were at their gates. They petitioned his command to enter, and he allowed them to come forth, entering the keep with three other Gordon soldiers.

  Cat experienced fear and anger while she sat holding the baby at the long table in the hall, where Glyniss had joined her. The white-haired Laird lumbered in and sat down next to Douglas. Roderic and Gavin also sat at the table.

  “I’ve come for the child,” Laird Gordon said.

  “No,” Cat said. Roderic raised his hand to quiet her, and she immediately regretted her slip of the tongue. The Gordon Laird growled deep in his throat.

  “I’ll not be told no by an English woman. Ye have no right to my kin.”

  “That’s enough,” Roderic said. “My wife is but choked with fear that you will take this babe from her. She loves her.”

  Glyniss spoke up. “As we all do! Where were ye for counsel when this whelp of yours turned his back on her?”

  “Ye have a sharp tongue, healer! Never have ye kenned a woman’s place is not in a mon’s council!”

  “In the past ye wanted my place to be near you when ye be puking from a sickness! ‘Twas holy, that, but not my aid to Meggie when ye wished her cast aside!”

  “Glyniss!” Roderic spoke her name with quiet authority and, respectfully, she stopped her outburst. The lady sat back, though it was apparent she was furious; her eyes narrowed into slits of silver fire.

  Douglas rose. “I know I was wrong, Glyniss, but my heart was too heavy. I could not look at her then. But she’s all I have of Meggie.”

  “Sit down, Douglas,” the Laird barked. “Mayhap, they want a war …”

  “You want a war, old goat, you’ll have one,” Gavin said.

  “Aye,” the Laird roared, slamming his fist down on the table. “Be there not a more righteous reason for a war than to recover one of your own?”