As he spoke, Jyne noticed children appearing in the doorway that led into the main keep. Their clothes were worn, their faces thin. Jyne’s heart melted for these poor souls, seemingly abandoned by their people.
“So many of our clan were gone,” the old man continued. “Those that were left claimed their children and took as many as they could, but there were too many o’ us to feed. In the end, we chose to stay here so as no’ to be a burden and to care for the wee ones as best we could. We dinna ken this abbey to be o’ use to anyone. We can move on, if it be yer wish.”
“Nay, I beg ye would stay as our guests. I am Lady Jyne, sister to the Laird Campbell, and these are my dower lands. Ye are now under the protection o’ the Campbell.”
Rab and Donnach simultaneously cleared their throats, and Jyne felt she must have forgotten something.
“Och, we invite ye to swear yer fealty to the Campbell in order to secure his protection,” she added.
“Aye, m’lady, we would so swear. And thank ye for yer kindness.” Alasdair’s face broke into a sea of wrinkles as he tried to smile. “I’ve been praying for a miracle, and the good Lord sent ye to us.”
His praise warmed her heart. At last, she was able to help others.
They entered the abbey into what had once been the main sanctuary and now had been converted to a great hall. On the west side was the circular tower, with stone steps leading up to the floors above. A large hearth had been added at the far side of the hall and the pews replaced with a raised head dais and long tables with benches in the middle of the hall. Jyne could not help but smile. This was a place that could feel like home.
They walked out of the hall into a central courtyard, around which the square abbey had been built. This had been the inner cloister for the monks and still held a peaceful air. Jyne mentally planned where she would plant her garden and fruit trees. A well in one corner was a good sign that the keep boasted its own water supply.
The elders came slowly out into the courtyard to swear their fealty to the Campbell clan. Jyne accepted them with grace, while Rab stood guard and Donnach searched Kinoch and the surrounding area to ensure all was well. Donnach returned and gave them a nod to let them know the grounds had been searched and nothing amiss had been detected. These were simply people who needed her help, and she was more than willing to extend assistance.
“Let us send Donnach back to Innis Chonnel to bring provisions, and we will tend for these people as best we can until help arrives,” said Rab, who was never slow to offer aid.
“Why no’ do this task yerself, my brother?” Jyne stepped near to him and put a hand on his sleeve, whispering in Rab’s ear. “There is no danger here, and it doesna appear that these poor people are in emergent need. Why no’ return home by way o’ the tournament? I’m sure it will be all right.”
“Are ye certain it will be well?” Rab’s eyes shone with intensity. Jyne knew she had tempted him with the true desire of his heart.
“My good man”—Jyne approached Alasdair—“what is the state o’ yer affairs? Is there anyone in need of urgent medical attention?”
“A few are ill, but their needs are chronic. We got none on their deathbed as yet.”
“Do ye have food to last ye the next few weeks?” asked Jyne.
“We’ve been rationing well enough. We dinna have plenty, but we have enough to sustain life for a while yet. What we truly need is the fields to be plowed for us to do the planting, for it is already past time for seeds to be in the ground. We do have seeds, but no’ the strength, I fear. That is, if ye will allow us to stay here this year, m’lady.”
“O’ course ye must stay,” said Jyne with a smile, turning back to Rab.
Rab’s eyes danced with excitement. “Are ye certain? Can ye manage for a week or so on yer own?”
“I am sure. This is a lovely place, and I would like to stay here above all else. Besides, Donnach will stay as my guard, though I doubt he will be needed. Bring back some men to plow the fields, for Alasdair is right, ’tis past due.” Jyne’s mind took a happy detour, dreaming about being the mistress of Kinoch, bringing in the harvest, before returning her attention to Rab.
“Now go and enjoy the tournament. I will enjoy ye more when ye’re no’ fractious.” Jyne gave Rab a smile, which was returned in full.
“Ye’re the best sister a lad could want.” He squeezed her shoulder and quickly prepared for travel, leaving the traveling chest behind with her. Rab jumped nimbly into his saddle and waved them a cheerful good-bye, not hesitating in his departure, lest she should change her mind. He trotted out the open gate, his packhorse clanking along behind him.
Lady Jyne waved her brother good-bye, then turned and smiled at the children’s faces that watched her from doorways and from behind barrels and along the sides of walls. With the removal of what must have appeared to be a fierce Highlander, they crept closer.
“How are ye, my dears?” she called to them.
Suddenly, she was barraged by children, at least two dozen of them in varying ages from barely walking to nine or ten years old. Her benign question was answered by multiple children at once, all talking in a happy cacophony, and all wanting her attention. She smiled down at them. It was fun to be the eldest for a change.
This was an even greater adventure than anything she had anticipated. Here, she was something more than David’s littlest sister. Here, she was needed. Here, she could do some good work. Strange, but she felt like she had finally come home.
“Would ye like to give me a tour o’ Kinoch Abbey?” she asked and was soon escorted about by a swarm of happy children, all vying for the attention of the new stranger. She was shown the chambers in the tower, the former chapter room with ornate carved woodwork, and the former refectory. The southeast corner held a storeroom with a trapdoor down to the abbey’s crypt. Fortunately, the children moved on quickly, for that was one place she did not wish to explore.
The east side held small, individual cells that formed the dormitories for the monks. Work had begun to tear down some of the interior walls to form rooms more suited for a keep, but the work had clearly stopped abruptly, and many of the small cells remained. She paused for a moment, staring at a moment of time: the time her fiancé had died, just one more victim of the great plague, and all work on the abbey had ceased.
“Come on! Here, there’s more,” urged a young girl, pulling her forward.
Jyne was dragged back into the present. She smiled at the exuberant lass and followed her and the other children past the exterior door that led to the postern gate, to the northeast corner where a small chapel remained for the use of the keep. The children ran ahead of her and, after a few minutes, ran past her once more. Following them into the kitchen and out a newly added door, she found herself once again in the great hall and realized the abbey structure formed a large loop around the central courtyard, much to the amusement of the running children.
Jyne breathed deeply, content with all she saw.
“We tried to keep it as we found it,” said Alasdair, leaning on his cane.
“I would hardly know ye’ve been here,” exclaimed Jyne. “There is work to be done to make this a proper keep. I wonder if the children might be enlisted to help.”
“Aye, m’lady, we are yers to command.” Alasdair gave her a wrinkly grin.
Jyne returned it. She was excited to get started. In truth, she had no interest in returning to Innis Chonnel. She began to set everything to rights, organizing the children with their boundless energy. Soon, new rushes were laid in the great hall, fresh cloths were placed on the wooden tables, and supper, thanks to Donnach, who had returned with a successful hunt, was roasting in the hearth. Jyne walked about, satisfied that all was going well.
Kinoch Abbey was hers now. After all the disappointment of the past year, she was finally home.
* * *
Cormac saddle
d a horse and packed as quickly as he could, taking all his precious gear with him, before his father could change his mind. If the monk had any sense, he would run away as far and as fast as he could. Core’s first thought was to follow suit and take to flight. Perhaps this time his father would not find him. Maybe he could go someplace no one knew him, and he could gain a position as a scribe.
It was a pleasant dream, but he knew better than to be tempted by it long. Red Rex would never be played the fool. His reaction to Cormac’s betrayal if he tried to run would be the thing of nightmares. Besides, Core could not let the monks be at risk. He must warn them somehow. And of course, the destruction of all those lovely books was unthinkable.
Cormac had not gotten far down the road when the thunder of hooves on the ground behind him drew his attention. Bran and Dubh emerged from around a bend, riding hard to catch him. Behind them were about twenty more men.
With a groan of resignation, Core pulled up and waited for them to overtake him. “What do ye want?” he asked brusquely. They were the harbingers of doom and destruction.
“We’ve been sent to go with ye,” Bran told him in a grave tone. “We are to make sure ye dinna take more than yer share o’ the treasure.”
“Rex said to follow ye and make sure ye dinna run off,” Dubh said, giving an unnecessary explanation. Red Rex was certainly no fool and trusted Core no more than Core trusted him.
“We found yer misplaced monk.” Bran gestured behind him, and the monk came into view. He was riding a horse as well, but was tied by the wrists to the saddle. Core stifled a sigh of disappointment. He had gone to considerable trouble to save the monk and had hoped the man would have been able to get away. Luck was not on Cormac’s side today. It was not an unusual circumstance.
“How thoughtful,” Cormac muttered. “Looks like we’re all going to Kinoch Abbey.”
Four
Core and the men his father had sent to babysit him rode hard their first day of travel, spent a cold night on the ground, and then were back up and moving early in the morning. Bran pushed them to keep a brisk pace, though Core hardly knew why they were rushing. For his part, he still had yet to figure a way out of his present untenable situation.
In theory, his father’s men were supposed to be serving him, but Cormac had no illusions that the men with him had any loyalty other than to their own desires and a slavish devotion born of abject fear of his father. If Red Rex demanded something be done, it was done. So when Rex told Bran and his men to go with Core, they did it. But while they served his father with blind allegiance, they would not serve him.
This mission was about making Cormac do what Rex wanted. It was about showing Core that his master was Rex and that he could be forced to do anything and everything his father wanted. Despite having abandoned him as a young child, now that Core was a man, Rex wanted to fashion him into an image of himself. Core had no doubt this was only the beginning of his education in how to be as wicked and as brutal as Red Rex himself.
Cormac glanced back at his riding companions. The monk glared at him. Bran scowled at him. Everyone looked like they wanted to hurt him. Core sighed and hastened his pace. The sooner he got to Kinoch and found something resembling a treasure, the better. Though how he was to make that unlikely event come about, he did not know.
He needed to keep his wits about him and devise a plan. His quick thinking had kept him alive this long, and it would not fail him now. At least…he sincerely hoped so.
Core slowed a bit to allow the monk to ride up beside him. If anyone knew anything about Kinoch Abbey, it would be him.
“Ye and yer monks lived at Kinoch afore they moved into St. Finan’s, no?” asked Core, careful to keep his voice low.
“Yes,” answered the sullen monk. He was a young man with short, black curly hair and slate-blue eyes.
Cormac lowered his voice even further. “I dinna suppose there is a treasure at Kinoch Abbey?” It was worth the question.
“No.” The monk glared at him. “And now, because of this story you told, you have put not only the entire library but all the brothers at risk!” Though he spoke perfect English, his accent branded him an outsider, probably from somewhere on the continent.
“I saved yer miserable life,” countered Cormac. “Have ye no gratitude?”
Instead of expressing his thanks, the monk narrowed his eyes in a disapproving manner. “You put us all at risk of death because of your thieving ways. Did you want to sell them? Is that what this is all about?”
“I wanted to read them,” growled Cormac at the sting of an old wound. “But I suppose that seems impossible to ye.”
“Highly improbable,” responded the monk with infuriating superiority.
“Ye monks, ye’re all the same. Judging that which ye know little about,” muttered Core.
“And what do you claim to know of our way of life?” the monk asked in a voice like ice.
“I know I was raised in a monastery until they discovered the name o’ my father and kicked me out on my arse.” Core could not speak the words without feeling the familiar stab of pain.
The young monk beside him was quiet for a moment. “Whatever your mistreatment might have been, it does not excuse theft. An irreplaceable scroll was lost because of you!”
Cormac reached into one of his saddlebags and produced the two scrolls. He couldn’t resist a smile. “’Twas a blank scroll cast in the fire.” Core was his father’s son, and he could be as crafty as the old bastard himself.
“Oh, you saved them.” The monk’s eyes widened, and he attempted to reach for the scrolls, forgetting his hands were still tied to the saddle.
“I’ve no more desire to see the library destroyed than ye do,” said Core in an undertone. “But know that my father does not make idle threats. So if ye’d no’ like to see yer books made into a funeral pyre, ye need to help me.”
The monk’s blue eyes flashed steel but dimmed into resignation.
“Tell me o’ Kinoch. Did ye leave anything o’ value behind? Why did ye leave it?”
“Kinoch Abbey was old and too small for the needs of the growing community of brothers. Laird Campbell offered a good price for the land, and we used the money to build the larger monastery.”
“Kinoch is old. Mayhap there is something o’ value? Any out o’ the way places something may have been left behind?”
“No, only the crypt below the abbey, but there you will only find the dead.”
“Is there anywhere a person might have hidden something? Any secret doors?” Cormac had to find something.
The monk shook his head. “The postern gate on the north side is hard to find, but you will find no buried treasure at Kinoch.”
It was not what Cormac wished to hear. He was still chewing on forming a plan when the party came to a pleasant valley with a brook prattling its way down the middle. At the far end of the valley sat Kinoch Abbey, its stone walls warmed in the orange light of the setting sun. It would have been an agreeable sight had it not been for his unwanted traveling companions.
“Look!” cried one of the men behind him. “There’s smoke rising from Kinoch. Someone’s got there afore us!”
“They’re trying to steal our treasure!” growled another.
“Ye’ll be needing this, then,” said Bran, and one of Red Rex’s horned helms was brought forth and slammed on Core’s head. It smelled like whiskey and the armpit of a cave troll.
“Ye’re too kind,” said Core, muffled through the repulsive helm.
“To war!” shouted Dubh, and the men galloped forward, with him carried along at the fore, the unwilling leader of the charge.
Cormac cursed with every bump of his mount, the heavy helmet pounding down on him with every jolt. He was being attacked more from his own headgear than anything else.
Core knew Kinoch had been abandoned and expected any squatters who
might have strayed there to flee as soon as they saw them coming. He certainly hoped they would move along fast, for with his father’s men in full charge, things were about to get unpleasant. Instead, the gates of Kinoch Abbey swung shut as they approached, and all was barred when they arrived.
Cormac groaned inside the heavy helm. Now he would be obliged to besiege Kinoch, for there was little hope of turning aside the intentions of the brigands now that they thought a Templar treasure was inside the gates.
“Charge the gate!” shouted Bran, and the men took up a terrifying war cry and galloped to the gate. It was a fearsome display, but largely pointless, since the gates were barred.
Core dug in his heels and galloped after Bran, gaining the advantage and turning him and Dubh aside to get their attention. If they were going to do this thing, at least they could do it well.
“Out o’ my way!” snarled Bran.
“Quick, to the side,” shouted Core, remembering what the monk had said about the side gate. “We must guard the postern gate before they send a runner for help.”
Bran frowned but slowed down. “Ye think they’ll send a runner?”
“Would’na ye if ye saw us coming?” The last thing Core needed was more people joining this party. He took off to the north side of the walled abbey, with Bran and Dubh following him. Flowering cherry trees lined the walls, streaming pink and white petals down on them in a cheerful but guilt-inducing welcome, considering their intent. Around the side, the shrubs and brush were thick and overgrown, forcing them to slow their progress. The helm was a hindrance in the trees, so Core tossed it aside, hoping to never see it again.
At a flash of movement ahead through the trees, they all stopped. As Core had suspected, a man on horseback and another smaller cloaked figure emerged from the side of the castle.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Bran.
“I’m sure ye will. Now quick, after the man. I’ll get the other.” Core sent Bran and Dubh to intercept the runner, while he dealt with the smaller figure.
My Highland Rebel Page 3
