He retraced his steps, ready in the courtyard to meet the man when he arrived. Griffin rode in, dismounted, and said quickly, "Greetings, Sir Brendan, from Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick and Annandale!" "Welcome, Griffin."
The man quickly lowered his voice. "The message I bring you is for your eyes alone, and to be destroyed, and its contents were not relayed by my master." Brendan nodded gravely. "My thanks. Come into the hall." Once inside, he summoned Joanna. The woman whom he had first met as she cleaned the banister had proven to be capable and knowledgeable regarding the fortress, and its previous function. The steward who had run the household had gone with Hebert. She had told Brendan he must find a capable man to manage the vast inner working of the place; he had told her that she must take on the task. She had been pleased, but uncertain—she had never been in charge of a household before.
He had told her they would do well together he'd never needed such a household run before.
In the hall, he needed only to call her name, and she was there, ready with refreshments for the rider, and cool ale for them both. Brendan excused himself to Griffin, and sat before the fire to read the correspondence.
He scanned the opening courtesies and quickly got to the point of the letter. Bruce wrote,
I don't doubt that I can reach the very young French queen now sitting on England's throne, nor do I doubt that she will have a vigorous interest in the proceedings, since it was an old and dear friend of her brother's who so sadly reached such an end. I do think that justice can be discovered. In time. However, word has reached me that, despite the truce, Miles Fitzgerald, without the command of the king, has raised a large company of men. More so than can be easily combated at this time by our own numbers, woefully depleted in the past years, and now dispersed through a promise of peace. He is not afraid of the king's wrath at such a gesture, since Edward would but give him a slap on the hand for seeking personal vengeance for the wrong you have done him, the humiliation he has suffered in failing the king's business. I hope that my warnings reach you in time; the Lady Eleanor of Clarin is in grave danger; it is my suggestion that she not be available for any form of abduction, should Fitzgerald bring a large enough force to breach your defenses.
Brendan read the letter twice, then cast the message in the fire. He sat for a long time staring at the flames, then rose.
Griffin sat at the table, having received a plate of fresh venison from Joanna.
"You'll excuse me? I've urgent matters to attend to." "Aye, Sir Brendan."
"The Bruce will not fight with me, will he?" "He doesn't dare; he shouldn't know of this danger, and his own peace with the English is so new ... as is his marriage." "I understand."
He turned and left the hall, riding out to make the arrangements he felt he must before seeking out Eric and the others.
When he returned to the hall, he asked Joanna if she had seen Eleanor, and he was told that she had just bathed and dressed, having slept very late. Brendan walked up the stairs, glad that she was in the room.
He entered to find her brushing the gold of her hair. She smiled at his entrance, and he grit his teeth against the measures he felt himself forced to take.
"What is it?" she asked.
"You have to pack. You're leaving this afternoon."
"I'm leaving?" she inquired, startled. "But"
"Fitzgerald is leading men this way."
"The Scots and English have signed a truce."
"He is not bringing the king's army."
"Then"
"He will lead an army of his own making, but I doubt if it was too difficult to persuade the northern English barons to join him on a matter of personal vengeance. Everyone on the borders has suffered some loss or insult, Englishman and Scot. Fitzgerald will not underestimate us as an enemy, he will not come without tremendous strength."
"The castle is strong"
"Eleanor, he is coming for you."
' 'Aye, but, you seized this place yourself from the English. Since then, you Scots have repaired walls, brought in arms and armor, the castle is supplied"
"Any castle can be breached. Any man can fall in battle. You're not safe here."
"Then"
"You're going north."
"But"
' 'Collum and Hagar will ride with you, along with Margot, Bridie, and Lars."
"To"
"My kin just beyond Stirling. You will be safe there."
She was shaking as she stood. "I don't want to go; this raid will be my fault. I should stay here, Brendan"
"You'll go."
"Fitzgerald can't breach these walls"
"For the love of God, Eleanor, this has not been an easy decision for me. You will go. You will not risk the life of the child."
She stiffened, lowering her head.
"I don't wish to do this."
"But you will."
"You will force me, against my will?"
"My lady, I will bind you to a horse myself."
She turned her back to him.
"As you command," she murmured.
"There is one more thing."
"And that is?"
"The choice is no longer yours. You will marry me."
"When, Brendan?" she demanded, spinning around. Her eyes were incredibly bright. She was passionate and angry and afraid, he thought.
"You're sending me away," she reminded him heatedly. "What if we are parted for a very long time? What if you do fall in this battle that should not be taking place? When then will this marriage take place?"
' 'Now," he said flatly.' 'Father Duff waits in the hall below."
Chapter 20
"I don't wish to be sent away," Eleanor protested. But if he heard her, he paid her no heed. "Brendan, please, we're still doing this too soon—"
"It isn't too soon," he said harshly. The he looked into her eyes, "if I die, the child will have my name—"
"If you die, I will be an exile in a land where there will be many who haven't forgiven me for Falkirk." "There is no time for argument, Eleanor—" "Then don't send me away." "I must."
They had arrived downstairs and she fell silent; Father Duff stood by the fire. The hall was filled. She saw Eric, Collum, Liam, Gregory, de Longueville, and others, all gathered quickly, and most of them she realized, dressed in some form of mail, some with plate armor, some with simple leather mail, over tunics that bore family crests. Margot was there; she came quickly forward, taking her hand, kissing her cheeks. "Don't look so pale!" she whispered. "It is a truly happy occasion."
"Men are riding here to destroy our lives—" Eleanor protested.
"Men are always riding to destroy our lives," Margot replied.
' 'How do you ever bear it?'' she whispered urgently to Margot.
And Margot smiled. ' 'I make sure that I always plan for the end of the battle, the return of my man. I never doubt him. And so I bear it. Come, along, Father Duff stands ready."
She found herself standing before Father Duff, with Brendan at her side. Her knees threatened to give.
She wanted this more than anything in the world. To be his wife. To be the woman who waited for him.
The one to whom he would always return.
She glanced at Margot as Father Duff greeted their assembly. She was startled when he read a document purported to be from the Archbishop of Lamberton, one of the highest churchmen in the country, blessing the union. She glanced at Brendan, and knew that he had probably sent for the archbishop's blessing at her first arrival, and that he had received the blessing of "the sovereign domain of Scotland, sanctioned by right of her king" as well. Brendan had taken care to see that this union would be legal in every way.
She listened, and found strength, and when the large, broad- shouldered Irish priest looked her way, asking who gave her in the marriage, she was startled when her cousin walked up beside her. "I, sir, the lady's kinsman, Corbin of Clarin, do give her solemnly to this man."
Corbin didn't look her way. She wondered if he had been
coerced. She saw that a man in the colors of Robert Bruce was looking on as well, and knew that Brendan had intended that this service be witnessed, and documented beyond the parish and archdiocese records.
So this would happen. What she wanted more than anything in the world, and yet against her will, because he would marry her when her first husband had scarcely cooled in the earth— and when he would send her away the moment the vows were spoken.
She glanced away from the priest, and saw Margot, smiling her encouragement.
When the priest took a lull, and requested if any in the company might protest, she suddenly found herself speaking.
"Good Father, I have a word."
He stared at her, a brow shooting up. At her side, she felt Brendan's incredible tension, felt the furious pressure of his hand on hers, and saw the amazement and fury in his eyes.
"You protest your own marriage?" Father Duff inquired, astounded.
She shook her head. "Not in the least. As we all fear the future, and what is right, and what is wrong, and as men fall in battle, and women are left behind, I seek only to share this happy occasion." She tried subtly to free her hand from Brendan's, but could not. Still, she twisted to see the crowd around them. She met Eric's eyes. "Life is fleeting, we have all agreed. Yet most men here will sacrifice it for honor. Such - grand emotion lies in our hearts, and is as near to every woman as it is to every man."
Eric stared back. He looked furious for a moment, reddened, as if, indeed, his rugged features, now reddened to crimson, might explode. Then suddenly he shook his head and laughed.
"My lady," Duff was protesting, "we are in the midst of a ceremony—"
"Aye, that's why we must pause," she whispered.
"Eleanor!" Brendan grated in a low, sharp tone, his fingers winding around hers with a pressure that forced her back around. Tears stung her eyes. She had accomplished nothing.
But suddenly, Eric came forward, striding through the crowd.
"Father Duff, I think I know that of which my lady speaks. And if you'd be so good ..."
He turned, reaching out a hand to Margot, who stared at him dumbfounded. "Margot, since the Lady Eleanor is most eager we make good this occasion as well ..."
Margot stared at him, incredulous, then stepped forward, taking his hand. "Brendan, with your permission, Father Duff will say the words for us this day as well?"
"Readily granted," Brendan assured him.
Eleanor was jerked down to her knees.
Sir William Wallace came forward to give Margot into marriage.
The ceremony continued. She heard Duff go on. She was asked again to love, honor, and obey. She whispered words of agreement. She heard Brendan's clear harsh tones. Discretely, and with a minor desperation, she removed the band with the escutcheon of Lacville that still wound her finger. The priest touched a band of gold to her first finger, second, and third. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. She gazed at the intricate Celtic band on her finger. Brendan had surely had it made for her, for the gold was fine, the size was small, and still, an initial was entwined in the crest, along with a great bird of prey. She was staring at the ring, and hardly heard the priest's words that before God, they were now joined as man and wife, and no man could set them asunder.
She rose from her knees to the sound of tremendous cheering. She felt Brendan's arms, and his lips, and it would have been well ...
If only she could stay.
The cheering paused as the last of the sacred rite was spoken for Margot and Eric, then once again the cheering rose, and skins of wine were passed. Then another cry went up. "To Scotland, aye, to the sons and daughters of Scotland!"
Men seized her, held her, kissed her cheek. She found herself moved through the hall, receiving the congratulations of all in attendance, not the least of whom was Corbin.
He held her hands and kissed both her cheeks, then embraced her warmly.
"Find real happiness this time, cousin," he told her.
The wish seemed earnest. She smiled.
"And you, Corbin, are you happy here?"
"I will stay and fight Fitzgerald," he told her ruefully.
"Corbin, you risk so much if you do so—"
"The man would have killed me. I only do what it is right."
"You're an Englishman."
He grinned. ' 'Aye ... but there is something in the battle
they fight here, in the passion. It has aroused something in me.
"You have a wife at home." "Must you remind me, Eleanor?"
She smiled. "We have left Alfred in her hands. I am afraid for him."
"Don't be. My brother is not a coward." "All the courage in the world cannot save a man from a knife in his back."
"Eleanor, we'll get through this battle first." He smiled, and kissed her cheek again. "Be happy." "I am being sent away; you will stay." "Eleanor, you cannot stay. And I must." She found herself tapped on the shoulder by Hagar, who gave her such a mighty hug it threatened to break her. She kissed his cheek, and found that she was passed on more quickly, and moving again through the hall.
She was back with Brendan when she neared the entrance. * In a second he had her hand firmly in his once again. He led her through it, and to the courtyard outside the main tower.
And there, horses waited. His hands were upon her then, they lifted her, setting her atop a handsome roan.
He stepped away from the horse. "God go with you, my lady, until we meet again."
"Brendan, please, don't do this."
' 'We've received notice already. Fitzgerald has raised a large number of men from the north, and is very close. He lost no time after we left him tied on the road, but raised a hue and cry immediately. My riders have already come back with word that he has crossed the border. Horsemen ride fast. You will not be able to move with such speed. You must be on your way. The castle will soon be under attack."
"I have been in a castle under attack before. I can fight—"
"That is what scares me," he acknowledged.
"Brendan, the fortress is strong—"
"So I pray."
Near them now, the crowd was gathering; Eric and Margot, the two close and intimate and whispering; the mighty Hagar, ready to mount his great, heavy horse; Collum, ready to lead their party north. Bridie was there, with her beloved Lars. She was busy seeing to the pack animals, that nothing necessary had been forgotten.
Eleanor saw them all, and how carefully this had been planned, before he had ever come to her.
"Brendan—"
"You have just sworn to obey me," he reminded her.
"And if I promised to obey, you in turn promised to cherish me!" she whispered.
"I am doing so, sending you away."
Tears stung her eyes. Despite him, she managed to dismount before he could stop her, and come to him, hands upon his chest. "Brendan, please, for the love of God, don't send me away so!"
Something within him seemed to give. His arms came around her, engulfing her; she felt his lips at the top of her head.
"Eleanor, you must go. I have to meet this battle without you. I never falter in a fight, never. And yet ... if you were here, my thoughts would not be on strategy, or battle. I would worry constantly about your position. Fitzgerald is a vindictive man. Many northern landholders have deep grudges, and are ready for a fight that the king will say he condemns, but secretly applauds. Eleanor, you must go. I pray that Fitzgerald will quickly be defeated, and that I will come for you soon. But you must go."
"Brendan—"
"Don't you understand that is anguish for me, too?" he whispered, and drew away, and she saw his eyes, the blue depths, the passion ... the love.
Such things were worth fighting for.
She suddenly understood something about him. He loved the land; his land. Not his property, but his land. Valleys, gorges, great, towering tors, the colors of spring and summer, the ancient histories of peoples long gone. But it wasn't the land that caused his battle; it w
as the ideal in which he believed, of a people. Different, unique, quarrelsome among themselves perhaps, but with a right to be what they were. His loyalty to the battle was as elusive, but deep and passionate. The same fierce loyalty and passion he gave to her.
He could falter.
For her.
"Brendan ..."
He held her very close, then lifted her chin, and kissed her lips with a tenderness that seemed to bring the sun into her very being. She felt again the stirring of their child inside her.
"I will keep the babe safe," she swore. "To bear your name."
> He lifted her chin, his knuckles brushing her face and his eyes searching its every facet, as if he would engrave a remembrance in his mind.
"You bear it as well now, my love," he reminded her. "I had meant to give you so much. A ceremony at a grand cathedral—"
"I had a ceremony at a grand cathedral," she told him. "Had we been in the woods, in a sty, in the mud, it would have been sacred, and beautiful, to me."
His smile deepened; she was glad of her words, and glad that her pride had not forced her to let him send her away in anger. This was cruel enough.
One last embrace. She felt his heart beat, the power and heat of him.
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