Tamed by the Barbarian

by June Francis

Cicely leaned forward. ‘I’ll go in disguise and take Tom with me.’

  ‘Tom!’ Jack shook his head. ‘I’m sure he would do his best to protect you, but he’s no Mackillin. Besides, Matt needs him here.’

  ‘Then you come with me,’ she said persuasively. ‘All the goods Father purchased for his clients have not arrived yet. A couple of days is all it will take us to reach Merebury—you will not lose much time.’

  Matt spoke up. ‘How can you ask that of Jack when he’s still having trouble with his arm? He can’t possibly ride all that way.’

  Cicely sighed. ‘I beg pardon. I wasn’t thinking. I have to go alone and I’ll go in disguise.’

  Matt muttered something in an undertone and shook his head.

  ‘What sort of disguise?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I’ll borrow some of your clothes and folk will believe me a youth,’ she said lightly.

  Matt’s expression was horrified. ‘It’s not seemly for you to dress as a boy!’

  ‘Why should I care about what is seemly?’ she cried, suddenly feeling quite desperate to get away. ‘I’m unlikely to meet anyone I know on the road. I must find out what’s happened to Diccon and Kate will most likely know where he is…and as you have said, if he can’t help us, then Owain needs to know about Father’s death so he can.’

  ‘When you put your case like that, I understand why you feel it’s imperative that you go,’ said Jack, drumming his fingers on the table, ‘but it would be best to wait until Matt can hire more men. Also, have you considered that Owain might not be in favour of you marrying Diccon once he knows Father was against it?’

  She had not thought of that and was at first dismayed, but then said, ‘Why should he be against his own brother-in-law? He is fond of Diccon and knows my dowry will be of use to him when the troubles between York and Lancaster are settled.’

  ‘Of course Diccon would like your money,’ said Matt, pouring ale into his and his twin’s cups. ‘Perhaps that’s why he wants to marry you. He knows that he can do what he wants and you’ll still be here waiting. Probably he hasn’t forgotten the way you looked at him with sheep eyes from the moment you met him at old Mistress Moore’s house in Liverpool.’

  Cicely flushed with anger. ‘I did not! And I do not believe he asked me to marry him because he wants my dowry. He loves me and I love him,’ she said firmly.

  ‘They love each other,’ said Matt, rolling his eyes. ‘Since when has love got aught to do with marriage? Father and Mother certainly didn’t love each other or he wouldn’t have spent so much time away from her.’

  Cicely could not argue with that, but still felt she had to speak up for love between husbands and wives. ‘He loved our stepmother…and Kate and Owain love each other.’

  Jack gazed across at his brother. ‘I wouldn’t argue with that. Have you seen the way they look at each other when they’ve been parted for a few days? I’ve seen them kiss, properly kiss, not just a peck on the cheek.’

  ‘So they love each other,’ said Matt, taking a swig of his ale. He looked thoughtful. ‘Truthfully, if Cicely isn’t going to wed Mackillin, then I think she shouldn’t marry anyone at the moment. We need her here. It’s I who should be thinking of taking a wife. She could instruct my bride in how our household is organised and help with our children.’

  Cicely decided not to take Matt’s words seriously. ‘You are but fifteen, brother, and there is no rush for you to produce an heir. You have Jack.’

  Jack smiled faintly. ‘She’s right, brother. You don’t want to be shackled yet. You’ve got enough to think about right now stepping into Father’s shoes.’

  ‘Of course I’m right,’ said Cicely firmly, rising from the table. ‘I’m going to my bedchamber. I have things to do.’

  ‘You rest, Cissie,’ said Jack. ‘We can decide later what to do about informing Owain of Father’s death.’

  She nodded as if she was in agreement and left the hall. Upstairs in her chamber she sat on her bed, wishing she could have asked her father why he had offered her to Mackillin. Tears filled her eyes because, of course, she could not ask aught of her father in this life. She took a kerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. As she did so, she caught sight of her reflection in the polished metal mirror on the wall. What she saw caused her to start and then she clasped her crucifix and did her best to look pious. Why should she not pretend to be a nun? Surely she would be safe from attack if men believed her to belong to a religious order? Dressed in her mourning garb and with every strand of hair concealed, she could surely pass as such.

  She began to give serious thought to making the journey alone to Merebury Manor in Lancashire. What if the weather changed and it snowed again? She could get lost and never be found; even the packhorses who crossed the Pennines travelled in trains. But the weather was clement at the moment and looked set to remain so for several days. She did not have to follow the trails the packhorses took along the ridges of the high fells. She could take the road to Skipton and, if she didn’t reach there before nightfall today, then she would seek shelter at Bolton Priory. If all went well it would take her probably two days, maybe three, to reach Merebury Manor.

  She decided to leave immediately and packed a few items needful for the journey, including a weapon that she had not practised with since last autumn. Then she went into her father’s bedchamber and found writing implements and paper and wrote a message for her brothers, which she placed on her pillow. After that she made sure all her hair was hidden beneath white veiling and topped it with a black veil. Her fingers clutched her crucifix and she prayed the slight disguise would work. Without returning to the hall, she left the house by the kitchen door.

  As Cicely saddled up her horse, she thought of Mackillin, wondering if he had news of Husthwaite. Perhaps the Scottish lord was even now making the journey to Kingston-on-Hull and thence to Scotland. No doubt he would wed a Scottish lady and forget that he had ever met a lass called Cicely Milburn. She determined to put him out of her mind.

  Mackillin’s expression was grim as he rode past the stone knight carved in the rock face, seemingly standing guard betwixt a bridge and what was obviously a wayside shrine to our Lady. He was not looking forward to giving Cicely and the twins the news that Husthwaite had not only managed to reach Knaresborough, but had departed for an unknown destination. He accepted that information as meaning the clerk could be anywhere, so the sooner Cicely and the twins were warned of this, the better.

  He made good time, arriving back at Milburn Manor by early afternoon. His disappointment was keen when he entered the hall to find only Matt, his steward, Tom and Tabitha. They appeared to be in the middle of a heated exchange.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, striding towards them.

  ‘Mackillin!’ exclaimed Matt, looking relieved to see him. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened?’

  ‘Husthwaite’s been here?’

  ‘No!’ Matt dismissed the two men and asked Tabitha to bring food and mulled ale for their visitor.

  Mackillin sensed a nervousness in the youth, who had changed his clothes and was now wearing a black surcoat of fine linsey-woolsey and black hose. ‘It’s Cissie. She’s taken herself off to the ap Rowans to tell them of Father’s death and see what information she can glean from our stepsister, Kate, about Diccon.’

  Mackillin froze. ‘When was this?’

  He grimaced. ‘Only God knows. Before the midday meal for sure. Tabitha went in search of her and found a note on her bed. I was out in the fields, so Jack sent her to tell me. I returned to find he’d taken one of the horses. He’s hoping to catch up with her before she gets too far.’

  ‘Courageous, but foolish,’ said Mackillin, fearful for them both.

  ‘I know. That arm’s still giving him trouble,’ muttered Matt.

  Mackillin pulled himself together and told the youth what he’d discovered about Husthwaite in Knaresborough.

  Matt’s jaw clenched. ‘You think it’s possible that he’s returned here a
nd might have seen her leave?’

  ‘Maybe,’ rasped Mackillin, removing a gauntlet and rubbing his perspiring face with it. ‘Let’s hope not. Where’s Robbie?’

  ‘Probably in the kitchen with Martha. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Go after them, of course.’

  Tabitha chose that moment to appear with a jug of ale and was followed by Robbie.

  Mackillin said immediately, ‘How’s the head?’

  ‘Still hurts, but I’ve felt worse.’

  ‘Good. I need you to do something for me. If I don’t return here with Jack and Mistress Cicely by tomorrow, I want you to go to Kingston-on-Hull and take a message to Angus.’

  Robbie frowned. ‘Has this to do with what King James demanded of you?’

  ‘Aye.’ Mackillin drew his groom aside and told him exactly what he was to do when he reached the port. Then Mackillin turned to Matt. ‘I’ll need a fresh horse and directions.’

  ‘I’ll have Tom escort you to the road that leads to Skipton,’ said Matt, and hurried away.

  A frustrated Cicely rested her aching back against the trunk of a tree and stared at Jack. ‘You shouldn’t have come after me.’ Her journey was not going according to plan. A fox had shot across the road and her horse had bolted. Unfortunately it had stumbled over a huge clump of grass and she had been thrown. Now her horse was lame and she ached all over.

  Exasperated and in pain, Jack said, ‘Why don’t you give up, Cissie? I know we won’t make it back home tonight, but Bolton Priory is but a short distance away. We could seek shelter there and then return home in the morning.’

  Cicely knew his words made sense, but she wanted to go on. Perhaps it was selfish of her but she felt the need of her stepsister’s council. Kate had been kindness itself to her from the day they had met and Cicely knew she could trust her to give her wise advice concerning Diccon. She must continue with her journey. Pushing herself away from the tree trunk, she went over to Jack’s horse and placed a hand on its neck.

  ‘I have a better idea. Why don’t you ride pillion and I’ll take the reins of your horse? You could rest your arm that way and we may still reach Skipton. What’s the point of going back when we’ve come so far?’

  He shook his head and said in a vexed voice, ‘Father used to say you had plenty of sense, but your wits seemed to have gone begging today. We can send a messenger to Owain and Kate once we’ve hired more men.’

  Cicely dropped her hand. ‘Why did you not say that earlier?’

  ‘Because I didn’t think of it. Another matter I haven’t broached with you is…’ He hesitated.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The struggle between the Lancastrians and Yorkists is not over. Matt told me that the queen is already gathering her forces to march on London to rescue the king.’

  ‘Husthwaite mentioned something about this, but I’d forgotten,’ she said, dismayed.

  ‘Apparently the Duke of York is dead and his heir, Edward, will surely want to avenge his death. We don’t want to get caught up in their fight, Cissie.’

  She curled her hands into fists. ‘But Diccon will be involved in it. I must try and see him. If he knows Father is dead, then he might change his mind once he realises we need him here in Yorkshire.’

  Jack frowned. ‘I don’t think you have a hope of getting him away from Edward right now, Cissie. Fortune and glory are what Diccon wants.’

  She turned on him. ‘What is wrong with that? But he might put aside his ambitions once he knows Father is dead. I’m going on, but if you feel you cannot, then you stay at Bolton Abbey. I will walk on to Skipton leading my horse and hire a fresh one in the morning.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I can’t allow it.’

  Cicely smiled at him tenderly. ‘Give up, love. Accept I will do this and return home.’ She glanced back the way they had come and stiffened as she saw a rider in the distance. Instantly, she reached for the bow and quiver of arrows concealed beneath one of her saddlebags. ‘Someone’s coming! He looks a mighty big fellow.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ demanded Jack, watching her string her bow and take an arrow from its quiver. ‘I never considered you’d think of taking your bow with you.’

  ‘Well, I did and you know I hit the target as many times as Matt.’

  ‘Aye. That made him really mad.’ Jack drew his sword. ‘I tell you now, though, you won’t hit that rider at this distance. You should get off the road and conceal yourself.’

  ‘It’s a waste of time. He must have seen us by now. I’ll wait until he gets closer and only let fly if I believe he’s a threat to us.’ Cicely’s eyes narrowed as she gauged the distance. Then her heart performed an odd little dance as she realised the identity of the rider. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she murmured, lowering her bow.

  ‘It’s Mackillin,’ said Jack, his face lighting up. ‘By all that’s holy, he must have ridden like the wind to catch up with us.’

  ‘He has no right to follow me,’ she said, even as she admired his horsemanship and her heart raced at the sight of his rugged features.

  He pulled on the reins and his horse came to a snorting halt a yard or so from them. His gold-brown eyes with their facets of green were questioning as he gazed down at Cicely in her black and white garb. ‘You would pierce me with an arrow, lass?’

  ‘Not as soon as I realised who you were.’ She unstrung her bow.

  ‘I’m glad you haven’t lost your wits altogether, lass, and at least thought to arm yourself. I presume you know how to use it?’

  ‘Of course. I used to practise at the butts on a Sunday after Mass in case the marauding Scots ever reached this far south again.’ Her tone was light.

  He smiled. ‘I’m impressed, although your arrows wouldn’t do much good against cannon.’

  ‘I don’t remember ever visualising them carrying cannon,’ she said. ‘Claymores and battleaxes were what I had in mind.’

  ‘I suppose you thought you’d shoot at them from that tower of yours?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you visualise what could happen to you making such a journey as this one travelling alone, even with a bow and arrows?’

  ‘Of course, but I didn’t realise I needed your approval for my actions, my lord.’

  ‘Did I say you did?’ he said, dismounting. ‘But admit that you’ve acted foolishly.’

  Two spots of colour appeared high on her cheeks. ‘I will not. You might be a Scottish lord, but you are not my guardian or my husband, or in a position to give me orders or criticise what I do.’

  ‘You need someone to take you in hand,’ he said, taking a step towards her.

  She stood her ground. ‘Well, it’s not going to be you, is it? You turned down my father’s offer.’

  Mackillin’s eyes darkened and he glanced up at Jack. ‘What did I tell you?’

  The youth said, ‘Sorry, Mackillin, but I told Matt and he let it out. I should have kept my mouth shut.’

  Cicely was annoyed with both of them. ‘Why, when it involved me? I can’t understand Father. He would have done better sending me his love with his dying breath than offer me as a reward.’ To her annoyance she felt that urge to cry, thinking of her father, and turned her back on them, not wanting them to see her weakness.

  Almost instantly her shoulders were seized and she was spun round to face Mackillin. ‘How can you doubt your father loved you?’ he said softly. ‘His last thoughts were of you.’

  The moment was fraught with emotion and she had difficulty saying what was in her mind. ‘It hurts me that Father and I parted in anger when he refused to give his permission for Diccon and I to be betrothed. I do not want to believe that in offering me to you that he was punishing me for setting my will against his.’

  Mackillin sighed heavily. ‘I’d have thought you knew your father better than that.’

  She shrugged. ‘The ways of men are often difficult for a woman to understand. Now, of your courtesy, will you release me?’

  He made no move to
do so, but touched the muddy graze on her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘What happened to you? Were you thrown?’

  ‘Aye,’ she replied. ‘A fox frightened my horse and now she is lame.’

  Mackillin’s stern features softened. ‘Why are you so set on placing your life in danger?’

  ‘I am not,’ she protested. ‘But sometimes we all have to do what we feel compelled to do.’

  ‘Could you not wait until Diccon proved himself worthy and came seeking you?’

  She met his gaze squarely. ‘I’ve done enough sitting at home, waiting to know my fate. Can you, as a man, comprehend a woman’s feelings?’

  ‘I admire your courage, lass. Of course I can understand your impatience, but it was foolish of you to set out alone on such a quest.’ His hand slid down her arm to clasp her fingers and squeeze them gently before releasing them.

  He turned to Jack and said sternly. ‘As for you—admirable as it is that you followed your sister—I did not save your life for you to risk it. You’d be in serious trouble if you drew a sword in her defence and had to fight for more than a few minutes.’

  Jack nodded. ‘I know. But you don’t have a sister, Mackillin, so you can’t understand a brother’s feelings. I had to chase after her.’

  Mackillin scratched the back of his neck and said ruefully, ‘I must accept your rebuke. Now tell me—do you feel fit enough to continue with this journey?’

  Sister and brother stared at him. ‘Why do you ask?’ queried Jack, a gleam in his eye. ‘My arm is giving me some trouble and I would return home, only Cissie is determined to carry on, even if she doesn’t find Diccon, as we need to inform the ap Rowans about Father. If you could perhaps act as her protector, then I would be content to stay at Bolton Abbey and ride for home on the morrow.’

  Cicely protested but Mackillin indicated with a wave of his hand that she be quiet and scrutinised Jack’s face, remembering how keen the lad was on there being a match between him and Cissie. He wished he could oblige him, but it was out of the question. He was not going to place her in a compromising position. She must really love Diccon if she was prepared to risk making such a journey alone.