by Kate Forrest
“Of course.” He relaxed into the position he’d been in for the past hour. The seconds stretched out into minutes, and Isobel feared he wasn’t going to talk about it, but then he spoke.
“ ’Tis a small isle. It would only take a few hours to circle it on foot,” he began. “There are some hills, but the land is mostly flat. It’s good for some farming, but we do most of the farming on Mull. A number of seabirds call the isle home, and all varieties of wildflowers grow in our fields. On a clear day, the sea comes alive, and every shade of blue and green reflects in its glassy surface.”
He had a wistful look on his face, and she could tell he’d thought often of his home while he’d been away.
“But the rainy days are many, and the wind cuts across the land.” He glanced back to her. “The nunnery and monastery are on the eastern shoreline, where you can look out at Mull and see the red granite boulders jutting out into the water.
“We’ve had many raids over the years, but that has slowed since the Vikings have come to settle around the Western Isles. We have nae had a raid in over a decade, so you needn’t fear for your safety at the nunnery.”
She nodded. “David told me about the raids.”
“We lost a great deal. We’re still trying to rebuild, but it will take time.” He frowned and looked away.
Sensing this was not a subject he wished to discuss, she asked, “And what of Mull? You said you can see the coastline from Iona.”
“Aye, the isles are separated by a short distance. You can swim between them.”
“And Mull is where the MacKinnon stronghold is?”
Sir Alex nodded. “We keep men on Iona to protect the monastery and nunnery, but over the years we’ve had less of a presence since the threat of invaders has decreased.”
The thought of seeing him often, even after they reached Iona, made her smile. She’d just met this crusader and knew nearly nothing about him, yet she was drawn to him. Such feelings were inexplicable.
“I have not met the new prioress yet, but the daughter of the Lord of the Isles is said to be an enchanting woman.”
Isobel wasn’t sure what to make of that. An enchanting prioress?
Suddenly, Sir Alex rose and stepped out from underneath the cover of the plum tree. “The rain has stopped. We should keep moving.” He reached for her hand, and Isobel gingerly placed her palm in his; awareness flooded through her at the moment of contact. The tension between them was like a current sweeping down the River Teith. It seemed to consume them both. They looked to one another with shocked expressions. Sir Alex recovered first, planting a stern look on his face, but his heavy breathing gave him away. He was as affected as she was, but Isobel pushed it from her mind. She stood quickly and then released his hand and walked several paces ahead into the grass.
This is dangerous. She had one purpose, and her mission could not be compromised by fanciful feelings of infatuation. She needed to create distance between them. She would not be distracted.
Chapter 6
Doune, later that afternoon
Robbie MacDonald eyed the small fortification at Doune from across the River Teith. He’d gone to Doune direct from Stirling after his encounter with the king’s baker earlier that morning. The man bragged the lass (the presumed Isobel) bought “two dozen gingerbread slices.” After Robbie offered him a few coins, the man explained he’d watched the lass go up to the castle and meet a warrior. Robbie was even lucky enough to learn the direction they’d traveled in: northwest. After considering the roads in that direction, Robbie chose the one that led to Doune, the most logical route.
It was just past midday, with no visible activity outside of the settlement. That was likely due to the torrential rain storm that had blown in minutes before Robbie had reached the cover of the trees along the river. Rain was common this time of year, and though inconvenient for travel, it served his needs just now. He encouraged his mare, Coira, into a gallop, taking her across a shallow spot in the river and over to the fort’s gated entrance. A few moments later, a guard asked what his purpose was there.
“I’m returning home to the Western Isles,” he explained. “I seek shelter from the storm.”
“What’s yer name?” the guard demanded.
“MacDonald,” he said. “Robbie MacDonald.” No need to lie.
The guard gave him entry into the courtyard and pointed to the stables, where Robbie took Coira to dry off. There he was greeted by two young stable hands.
“She’s a fine horse,” the older of the two boys said in awe.
“That she is,” Robbie agreed. Coira was a rare breed. He’d found her on Crusade and refused to leave her behind. It had been worth the effort to get her back to Scotland. She was a fine horse, with a beautiful black coat.
Robbie picked up a handful of fresh straw and wiped Coira down, though they’d be back in the rain soon.
“Were you on Crusade?” the older boy asked.
“Aye. I returned a few years ago.” Robbie continued drying Coira as he regaled the young boys with a tale of victory in battle. When he was finished, he added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if more warriors like me came through Doune.”
“They have!” the younger boy exclaimed. “Just yesterday there was—”
“Ssshh!” the older boy hushed him. “You are not supposed to say such things.”
“But he was a crusader, and his wife was so bonny!”
Sensing the older boy was uncomfortable with how much the younger had revealed, the lad quickly excused them both and ran from the stables.
Wife, aye? A good ruse. Knowing they’d come through Doune confirmed his suspicions. They were taking the relic to the Isles—Iona or possibly even Ireland. He’d take the river west and catch up with them. It would be an arduous ride for Coira, but she could do it. He’d have the bishop’s work done and get help for his sister before the week was through.
****
Alex made camp for them along the southern banks of Loch Katrine. It had been a long day, but Lady Isobel had braved it well. Not once had she complained, and she’d even tried to hide her exhaustion, though he could tell she was relieved when he suggested she ride the mare for a few hours. He watered the horse, then tied her up to graze.
“We’ll make a fire and eat,” Alex said, as though he felt he should explain the process.
“Can I help?”
“There is bread and cheese tied up in the plaid.”
“I also stocked up while in Stirling. I got more than gingerbread,” Lady Isobel said, holding up a small parcel.
“Is that what you had in the basket yesterday? What happened to it?”
“Yes, ’twas a lovely basket, but it seemed impractical for the journey. I gifted it to the Stewart mistress in thanks for letting us stay the night.”
“That was kind of you,” Alex said, sitting down next to her to start a fire.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Aye,” Alex said, building up small pieces of driftwood into a pyramid.
“How did David know you’d returned from Crusade?”
“Most of the crew planned to travel on from Edinburgh, so our ship stopped there for a few days. Several of us had an audience with the king.”
“I do not recall seeing you at court, but then there are always many men waiting to meet with David.”
“Perhaps you were preparing for the journey?” Alex offered. He did not remember seeing Lady Isobel at Edinburgh Castle either.
“Perhaps,” Lady Isobel said.
“We were only there for a few hours, but the king did show me the chapel he built in his mother’s memory.”
“Margaret’s Chapel?”
Alex nodded. “Aye, ’tis a small but peaceful place.”
“I agree. I have spent many hours there.” A wistful yet pained look crossed her face.
He wanted to ask how she came to be there, but he hesitated. If she wanted to tell him, she would.
The silence stretched between them as th
ey ate, but Alex did not mind. While on Crusade, he’d had little quiet. He learned to be grateful for the silence when it came, for it was always short-lived.
Alex could not help but think back on his time at Edinburgh, just over a week ago. He and some of the other men from the ship met the king. King David had asked about Lisbon and their time spent traveling after the Crusades ended. Then the king had taken Alex aside to speak to him about Iona.
“How is the monastery?” the king asked.
“I understand from my family that all is well, Sire.”
“Is there still great influence from the Lord of the Isles?” King David asked.
Alex was unsure of how to respond. Mull and Iona were part of the Inner Hebrides. They were islanders, but they were not as tightly under the control of Somerled as the Outer Hebrides. Still, many clans were allegiant to him.
“His daughter was installed as the prioress of the recently founded nunnery, but he lays no claim to Iona or Mull, Sire.”
“But he is more present than your Scottish king?”
Alex shrugged. The king knew the answer to his question.
“I see,” said the king. “Does Somerled also hold the allegiance of Clan MacKinnon?”
Alex needed to be careful. The king was searching for an absolute, but control over the inner isles was complicated. He was certain the king knew this, but he also saw the king wanted reassurance that his hand stretched west of the mainland.
“We respect and trade with the Lord of the Isles, but we are allegiant to you, Sire.”
How could Alex’s people not be? His clan had great love and respect for the late Queen Margaret, though he himself had never met her. That loyalty extended to her descendants, even if the Scottish royal family’s influence in the isles was not as strong as it was on the mainland.
“Then I have your sword, should ever I need it?”
At first, he assumed the old king spoke of battle, but something in the king’s eyes told him that was not what he meant. Even so, only one response existed.
“Of course, Sire.”
Kind David held his gaze for a few moments, as if to assess the truth behind Alex’s words. Then the king smiled and patted Alex on the shoulder.
“Now tell me where you go next. West to Stirling?”
“Nae, Sire. I must travel first to Kirkcaldy. I expect to be there for a few days before I begin the journey home to Mull.”
“Then I bid you farewell, MacKinnon, and a safe journey.”
Alex had thanked the king and immediately departed the castle. He never suspected at the time he’d be called upon again so soon, but here he was on a mission to take Lady Isobel, someone of import to the king, to the holy island.
After they ate, he laid out plaids on the ground and offered Lady Isobel her choice.
“I’m afraid there is no soft ground to be found, Lady Isobel, so the choices are fairly equal.”
She settled on the plaid that paralleled the water and faced the fire. Alex lay on his own plaid and bade her a good night. After he had inhaled a few deep breaths of the June air, Lady Isobel stirred. He opened his eyes to find her wide awake, looking up at the sky.
“You should sleep. ’Tis a long day’s travel ahead of us.”
“I will, just not yet.”
“What are you thinking on?”
“Everything,” she said quietly.
“Would it help to talk?”
“About?” she asked.
“Anything you like,” he offered.
“I’m sure you have been asked countless times since you reached the shores of Scotland, but—”
“But what was it like on Crusade?” Alex finished for her. “It was war, and then a small crew of us stayed on to travel the Mediterranean.”
“You were in Jerusalem?”
“Aye, a rare opportunity to travel there during a relative time of peace. None of the battles fought were in Jerusalem.”
“Why did you stay so long? I understand the campaigns ended four years ago.”
“I wanted my freedom. I wanted to see places I’d heard tales of from others. I wanted adventure before I became the MacKinnon chief.”
“Do you not wish to be chief?”
“I am prepared for my duty now. I had just seen my nineteenth summer when I left to join the fleet in 1147. I’m a man now. I know my duties to my people. I will not fail them.” He prayed his words were true, that he would find a way to rebuild his clan.
“Did your father encourage you to go?”
“Nae, well, he did not want me to go, but he understood why I had to leave. He gave me his blessing to go and do battle.”
“And did you enjoy it? Doing battle?” she asked.
“There is no joy to be found in battle. I’m just built for it.”
Alex saw her eye his arms and could not help but flex his muscles under her scrutiny. Still, he wanted to be clear. “I do not just mean I have the physical strength for it. My mind is suited for it as well.”
“What do you mean?” Lady Isobel asked.
“I have seen atrocities, and I carry them with me. I always will. But I can look past them. Some of the men I knew could not look past the blood of battle. Their minds became poisoned by what they’d done.”
“I know of what you speak. I have seen the toll of war on a man’s soul.”
“You witnessed this in David’s court?”
“No. But the wives would come to see Mattie—I mean, the queen, and she would pray for them. The stories they told, especially of their husbands’ fitful nights of sleep. They were haunted, the wives would say.”
“Aye, that’s a good word for it. Haunted.”
“But you are not haunted?” she asked.
“I can sleep,” Alex said. “I am at peace with what I have done.”
“But you won’t tell me how you came by that bruise and broke your ribs?”
Alex sighed. Of course she wants to know. It’s a nasty bruise. “It is nae because of bravery, so you can put your hopes of a hero’s story to bed.”
“You fought with another man?”
“Aye.”
“What did you fight over?”
“My father,” Alex said. “Another crusader criticized my father’s care of clan MacKinnon, calling him a weak chief. I could nae let it go.” The man had called his father more than that, but Alex wouldn’t recount it.
“Why would the man say such a thing?” Lady Isobel asked, propping her head up on her hand.
Alex could see the concern in her violet eyes. He found her care oddly welcome, but he would not tell her of his clan’s woes.
“I’ve said how I came by the bruise, Lady Isobel. Now it is time to rest.”
She frowned but lay back down on her plaid. After a few moments, her breathing steadied, and he knew she was asleep. Alex thought back on the fight with his father before he’d left. When Alex was young, he looked up to his father. He was an honorable man and a fierce warrior. Food always covered the table at the evening meals, and even though the keep’s fortifications were in disrepair, his father always spoke of plans in the works to repair them. He always assured Alex and his sisters that he’d rebuild the keep. He’d find the coin, and he’d do it. Only he never did.
Alex had been too young to understand that his father had mismanaged the clan’s funds. Precious little of his mother’s fortune was left, but Alex’s father could never account for it. At least not to him or his sisters. When Alex declared he was going on Crusade, the chief argued with him.
“Ye need to marry and soon, Alexander,” the chief stated.
“I am young yet, Father. A few years on Crusade will not hurt the clan.”
“I never wanted the clan’s finances to be on ye, but we’ve little left and I need ye to make a good match. I met with the Earl of Angus when I last journeyed to Stirling, and he is interested in a match between ye and his daughter.”
“And the match cannae wait a few years? How old is his daughter?”
&
nbsp; “Young enough that he may consider waiting a few years,” the chief said. “But I dinnae ken we can wait that long.”
“But mother’s coin. There must be enough left to keep the clan for a few years yet.”
His father looked away, and Alex could see the man’s cheeks turn pink. He was embarrassed, Alex realized.
“Father, what has happened?”
“That is nae yer concern. Ye just need to do yer duty, and all will be fine.”
“None of my concern? You will not tell me the cause of the problem, only that I am to be the solution?”
“Ye’ll do it for your clan.”
Alex’s jaw tightened at the memory. His father had been right. He would be the solution, but it wasn’t by the means his father had planned. He would find a way without the Angus bride.
He glanced once more at Lady Isobel. Her face was calm with the peace of sleep. He closed his own eyes and prayed for the wisdom to manage his own path forward, for every step brought him closer to home and closer to his duty.
Chapter 7
Easby Abbey, York, the same night
In the small confines of Easby Abbey refectory, the Bishop of Edinburgh and the Duke of Lincoln sat in conversation in the empty communal dining hall. This was not a meeting between friends. It was a meeting between two men holding an uneasy alliance. The purpose of the alliance was to gain power and access to the King of England. However, the bishop’s delay in acquiring the relic meant their shared goals would not yet be attained.
“You have failed,” the duke said.
“I have not failed,” countered the bishop. “My man is working to retrieve it as we speak. His Majesty just needs to be patient for a few more days.”
“He has been patient with us, Bishop. If we cannot deliver this to him, he doubts how either of us will be of service to him at court.”
“I have great influence; there is much I can do for the king,” the bishop said. “I do not think the same can be said for you.”
The duke scowled at the insult to his worth. “I have value beyond delivering the relic. I have not failed in my endeavors, as you have.”
