"Jamie!" she called out.
"Pilgrim," Laurie said. Juliana turned to see him coming near, with Eonan behind him. "If you seek the abbey of Inchfillan, 'tis that way. They will admit a pilgrim who wishes to pray and rest. Otherwise, move on."
Juliana hastened toward Jamie and took his outstretched hand. He bent to kiss her cheek. "Cousin," he said.
"Cousin!" Laurie echoed.
"Aye, sir," James answered. "I am glad to see that my cousin Juliana is well protected." He pushed back his hood, his keen glance the same dark blue as Juliana's, a legacy from a shared grandfather.
"I thought you were some rebel come to challenge us," Laurie said gruffly, sliding his sword into its belt sheath.
"Oh, never that," Juliana said earnestly.
"I travel in peace, on pilgrimage," James said. "I intend to visit Inchfillan Abbey. 'Tis a pleasant surprise to see my cousin here, on my way to the abbey."
"Just a pious man anxious to be at prayer," Juliana added.
"Och, nae doubt," Laurie said wryly.
"Allow me to speak with my cousin and tell her news of our kin," James said. "I assure you she is safe with me."
"Walk with her if you like, but only in our sight," Laurie said as James moved away with Juliana. "And do not go far."
"Did you really come here to see Father Abbot?" she asked.
He nodded. "He sent word to me." James glanced back at Laurie and Brother Eonan, who watched them. "He wrote that you were taken by the English, and the wee lads taken too, and that he needed help to free all of you. I came as soon as I could. I have another mission as well here, on King Robert's behalf. But I am glad to see the abbot found a way to gain you back."
"The lads are still held, though the Sassenachs brought me back. King Edward wed me to one of his knights—the new commander at Elladoune. Now I must pledge fealty to the king."
"Wed?" James looked astonished.
"Aye, to Sir Gawain Avenel—you may know his name. He is now constable at Elladoune, although there is no garrison there as yet. The king's orders—Jamie, what is it?" She paused.
"Jesu," he murmured. "Gawain. I know him well."
"Aye, he mentioned that he met you."
"Met me? He ran with us for a few months."
"He fought with Scots rebels?" Juliana gaped at him. "When? How? He is King Edward's loyal man!"
"I heard that he pledged his oath anew." James frowned. "He was a good comrade, but loyalties change often in this war. Men must choose between their heads and their hearts. Some side with the Scots for the love of liberty, and stay the course. Others declare for the English to protect their inheritances."
"But Gawain is English... he never—" Juliana felt stunned.
"He sided with the Scots for a bit, lass. Or so I thought."
Juliana stared, her head spinning in confusion. "But—"
"He is a solitary man. Courteous and of a noble spirit, but he keeps his secrets close. He had some good reasons to side with us and change back. Inheritance, most like. My wife liked him well, and she has a fine eye for character."
In spite of the distracting revelation about Gawain, Juliana gasped. "Wife? You do have news! The Border Hawk is wed?"
His smile was quick and charming. "Aye, caught fast. My wife is Isobel Seton of Aberlady."
"The prophetess? I have heard of her! So the rebel softened enough to take a wife." She smiled widely. "I never thought 'twould happen. You nearly became a monk!"
"Aye, true." He laughed ruefully. "You must meet Isobel."
"I want to, and soon. But for now, tell me more of you and Gawain. He never said he ran with rebels!"
"I doubt he wants it known, especially if he has resworn his fealty. He helped Isobel and me in a bad situation, and stayed with us for a while. He fought at my back and I trusted him well." He frowned. "One day the English camped nearby, and there was a skirmish. The next morn he was gone. We saw him riding with the Southrons, while we hid in the forest."
"Ach Dhia. Did he... betray you?" she nearly whispered.
"I never knew for sure, but it appeared so. He went back to England, I heard, and knelt before the king to beg forgiveness. And got it, I see, if he is now constable at Elladoune, complete with a bride given him by the king—and the bride my own cousin!"
"I did not know," she murmured.
"He was a good friend—or so I thought." James shrugged. "What he did for Isobel and me cannot be repaid. But he broke our trust later. I never suspected him for a traitor, so it surprised me. Mayhap Isobel and I liked him too well and somehow missed the truth." He looked at the loch and watched the swans.
She bit at her lip, remembering that Gawain had told her he had spent two months in prison—for betrayal. He had explained little, but she wondered anew what he had meant by it.
"Juliana, I have news of the lads."
She looked up quickly. "We heard too. I do not know what we will do, for we cannot pay any ransom. And Alec and Iain are in the sheriff's keeping now. He refuses to give them up."
"We had best go see the abbot. There is much to discuss."
She frowned. "Jamie, you should know this—Gawain will be coming to the abbey later today to see Abbot Malcolm."
James cocked a brow. "That will prove interesting."
* * *
Glenshie burned bright as a lantern in his mind, even as he sat in De Soulis's hall with Laurie. While the page poured out cups of golden, cool ale, he remembered the sunlit stones of Glenshie. When De Soulis complained about a delayed delivery of several tuns of wine and barrels of salted fish from Perth to Dalbrae, Gawain thought of the view of Loch nan Eala from the hill below his grandfather's castle; his castle by right, now.
The place had been a ruin, a stone shell, some of its higher level tumbled. The foundation walls were still sound, but choked with ivy. An abundance of green ferns filled the inner bailey, and the steps leading to the tower keep had collapsed.
But he had recognized it, and relived childhood moments that nearly brought him to the brink of tears. Exploring the castle's remnants and perimeters much of the morning, he thought about rebuilding. He envisioned Glenshie clearly in his mind: a strong stone tower once again.
After leaving the mountain and meeting Laurie for the ride to Dalbrae, he kept silent about his discovery. Though he burst to tell his friend, he hoped to reveal his news—and the blessed relief of the full truth—to Juliana first.
He fixed his attention on the conversation. He had come here to check on the boys and to learn his orders, and to discern the possible lay of his future.
"Has the king's commander decided what to do with Elladoune?" he asked De Soulis.
"Aye, but there are some matters for us to address first. I have writs from Aymer de Valence, and one from the king himself, to convey to you."
The sheriff reached over to the end of the table and drew toward him a flat wooden chest. Opening its silver latches, he removed a few folded parchments with broken seals. He sifted through them, his fingers sly, somehow, along those edges.
"I believe that you have a document to deliver to me, as well," De Soulis said. "Is your report complete?"
Gawain thought about the folded parchments tucked inside his tunic. He had brought them, intending to deliver them, but some inner caution made him hesitate. "Almost," he said. "A week."
The sheriff scowled. "De Valence wants that information." He reviewed the page in his hand. "This first matter does not concern you directly, but you should know. As the king's Master of Swans, I am to capture swans for the king's rivers in England," he went on. "The mute swans of Elladoune are among the best known in Scotland, and so some of those will be taken up in the next few days. You will see us at the task."
"The swans' feathers are molting just now, I believe," Gawain said. "They are unable to fly."
"And that makes them even more suited for upping, when they are hooked and netted, and transported. The younger ones are easier to catch that way than the aggressive a
dults. We will snare a few cygnets and young swans and send them south."
Gawain narrowed his eyes, thinking of Juliana's unchivalrous capture several weeks earlier for the same reason. He thought, too, of Guinevere's four young cygnets, who were exactly what De Soulis wanted. He felt a sudden, strong compassion; the proud and beautiful female swan had already endured the loss of her mate. Her offspring should not be taken from her, too.
"King Edward has more than enough swans on his rivers as it is," he said. "Why does he take the time to send out writs for Scottish swans when he has a war to concern him?"
"The king has a special fondness for the birds. They are good omens. And he particularly wants Scottish ones."
"Nae content with owning all the swans in England, is he," Laurie muttered. "Sir Sheriff, where are the wee lads? We did not see them as we came in today. We want to make sure they are well. Their sister is concerned about them."
"Her kinsman the abbot was here this morning and saw them. I invited him here to discuss the orders for Elladoune and Loch nan Eala, some of which will affect him and his monks."
"Oh? How do my orders affect the abbey?" Gawain asked, frowning in surprise.
"You will know shortly. The boys are with the priest at their prayers and lessons just now. They have been more courteous of late. My wife has promised them a trip to the market fair next week, and I have given my permission. And I have decided to send them with her into England when she leaves in a few days. You will see them at the fair—"
Gawain leaned forward. "You do not have the authority to take those children out of Scotland," he growled.
"We shall see. Now you will want to hear of your orders." De Soulis opened two parchments and pressed them flat in front of him. "This writ is from the king himself," he said, showing them the red seal and trailing ribbons. "'Greetings,' etcetera." He waved his hand impatiently. "He requires that a written statement by Lady Juliana Lindsay be sent to him at Lanercost Abbey."
"Lanercost?" Gawain asked. "He was to go to Carlisle."
"The king has been weakened by illness—'tis temporary, his physicians say—and rests at Lanercost before going on to Carlisle. The journey from London has been very draining. His health this year has not been good."
"A written statement from the lady?" Gawain asked then. "What does he expect in that? And who is to deliver it?"
De Soulis perused the page. "He wants her sworn fealty in writing, and wants an affidavit signed by witnesses that she made a pledge of... 'her loyalty and that of her kin and acquaintances, and all those attached to the lands of Elladoune, to the king of England.'" He passed the parchment to Gawain.
He took it and read it. "'If the lady cannot write a fair hand, she is to make her mark upon a written oath, and two witnesses, civic and religious, must swear that she has said the oath aloud and with good intention.'" He glanced at Laurie.
This was unexpected luck. Still, he doubted that Juliana would be any more willing to swear fealty this way than she would have before the king himself. She simply would not do it, and had avoided all of his efforts to rehearse her pledge. He suspected, by Laurie's skeptical frown, that his friend had the same thought.
"Well, at least he doesna demand that she come to court," Laurie said. "That is good—if the lady agrees."
"Indeed." Gawain looked at the sheriff. "Is Edward so ill?"
"He wisely attends to more important matters," De Soulis answered. "Once the oath has been accepted, I believe the king will release her from her formal captivity. I will witness the oath-saying myself, of course, as sheriff of this glen. Her kinsman the abbot will do for the religious representative. I will have my own priest present, too, for I trust him better."
"My lady wife can handle a pen for her name, I think, though she was not schooled for writing out words. When will the signing take place?"
"At the market fair," De Soulis said. "Will she say the oath aloud? If she refuses, she will not fulfill the king's order."
"I will explain that to her," Gawain said carefully.
"I suspect that she speaks to you, even if she insists upon her foolish silence with the rest of the king's knights."
"My wife has found ways to communicate with me," Gawain said, staring evenly at him.
"No doubt," De Soulis drawled. "Tell her that she must comply, or she will be at the mercy of the crown. Bring her to the market fair next week. She can say her oath in full public view. Plenty of witnesses." He smiled flatly.
Gawain narrowed his eyes, but kept outwardly passive. He still doubted Juliana would say an oath under any circumstances. "We shall see what happens," he said. "As for her brothers, if you try to take them away, be sure that I will get them back from you."
"We shall see, as you say. As for the rest of these orders, a messenger came yesterday from Perth. He brought a writ from the king himself, and a writ from the commander of the king's forces. De Valence has decided to close down Elladoune."
"Close it down," Gawain repeated. He clenched his jaw.
"You knew it might happen," De Soulis said smoothly. "You understood you were there temporarily."
"I expected a garrison to be sent there, since you are so concerned about rebels in that area."
"I argued to close the castle. I can deal with the rebels myself, through my own authority."
The decision came as a shock. A host of consequences battered his mind. Not only would he have to turn out his own kinfolk, but he would have to turn Juliana out of her home again. And he would lose the only home he had known with her. No doubt he would be sent elsewhere—England, somewhere in Scotland, even Wales or France. His heart slammed hard in his chest.
"Why withdraw forces from there now?" Laurie asked.
"De Valence has decided that it is not necessary to place a garrison there. Extra men will be sent here to Dalbrae, rather than to Elladoune. We will extend our patrols along the length of the loch and into the hills. This can be managed with fifty extra men at Dalbrae."
"Ah," Gawain said bitterly. "Send fifty to Dalbrae rather than a hundred and fifty to Elladoune. A savings of men, time, supplies, and coin."
"Exactly," De Soulis said.
Flexing his jaw to restrain his anger, Gawain merely nodded. He played with the stem of his cup, his mind whirling.
"What, then, for the rest of us?" Laurie asked.
"You both may be useful here. Or anywhere that Sir Aymer decides to post you. I will inquire on your behalf, of course."
"Of course," Laurie snarled.
"And Elladoune?" Gawain said. "Closed for how long?"
De Soulis took a sip of wine, pursed his lips, and slid the other parchment page across the table toward Gawain. "This is the king's latest writ with a new list of orders. It states what is to be done with Elladoune."
Gawain scanned the neat French script until he came to the lines that contained the orders he sought. He stared at it, then read it again.
Until no stone remains standing.
"What is it?" Laurie asked.
"Elladoune," Gawain replied softly, "is to be burned, and every stone torn down."
Chapter 27
"Friend or foe, he is wed to your cousin, so he is your kinsman now," Malcolm said, speaking Scots for James Lindsay's benefit. "Tell me this, Jamie—can Gawain Avenel be trusted?"
Catching her breath, Juliana looked at James. Seated beside her, he sipped his ale calmly. They both faced the abbot across the table in the small, whitewashed solar of the abbot's house.
"He is a man of integrity," James replied. "But I wonder where his fealty lies. The man I knew would help any man, woman, or child who needed it. But I do not know the man who left us as he did and renewed his oath to King Edward. My instincts tell me I could trust him with my life, but his actions contradict that."
"He ran with your men, then rejoined the English. You told us that incredible story," Malcolm said. "Difficult to believe 'tis the same man you knew."
Juliana listened, feeling stunned. James
had recounted events in Gawain's recent past that she had never suspected. Last year, Gawain had joined James's rebels for a while, giving them crucial help; then he had left suddenly after a skirmish, without explanation. Gawain had told her nothing of it himself.
Aware of his previous transgressions, including when he had helped her at Elladoune years ago, she could easily believe that Gawain would risk his own life to help Isobel and James. And she could even imagine him declaring for the rebel cause. Why he had left them was another matter.
Whatever had happened, she believed in his core of integrity. Yet if he had stayed with the Scots, there would be no obstacles between them now, she thought sadly.
"Did he betray you?" Malcolm asked. "Is he a spy for them?"
"It could be," James admitted.
Juliana gasped softly. Betrayal, Gawain had said himself of his crime. "But you said he sided with the Scots!"
"His inheritance is in England. He chose the safe course," James said. "As for betrayal—it may be. I do not know."
"Gawain has been helpful to our friends," she said in his defense. "He may be English, but he is not like most of them."
"There is something you both must know," Malcolm said, his tone grim. "I met with the sheriff this morning, who reported some disturbing news indeed. First of all, Juliana must declare her loyalty to King Edward before the sheriff and witnesses."
"If it keeps me away from the king's court, that is welcome news," she said. "And mayhap we can find a way around the oath."
"That may be, but listen—there is more. De Soulis intends to send Alec and Iain to England with his wife soon."
"Ach Dhia!" Juliana felt the news like a blow. "He doesna have the right!"
"'Twill not stop him. He told me something else. Elladoune is to be closed," Malcolm said bluntly. "The king's commanders have decided it doesna serve them to garrison it."
Juliana stared at him, stunned. She had never expected that. "Its gates shut? Will Gawain—be sent elsewhere?"
"Very likely. He is a king's man." He frowned. "We did not suspect how much a king's man he is."
Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] Page 25
