by Kate Forrest
“As I said, it will just be a few more days,” the bishop explained.
The duke snapped his fingers, and two men appeared in the shadowed entrance to the hall.
“This is Rolf and Watkin. They are soldiers in my personal guard,” the duke said. “They will go and retrieve the relic.”
“There is no need,” the bishop said. “ ’Tis likely my man is already in possession of it.”
“If that is true, then we’ve nothing to fear. Since we cannot know if your man is successful, sending another team would be prudent.” The duke dismissed his men so they could continue their conversation in private.
“If my man fails and your guards do retrieve the relic, then have it brought to me at Edinburgh,” the bishop said, looking his companion in the eye to deliver his warning. “If you go behind my back, you will regret it.”
“We are still in this together. You have my word,” the duke said, extending his hand to the bishop.
“And you have mine.” The bishop grasped the duke’s hand.
Chapter 8
Isobel woke early and broke her fast with Sir Alex. The sky was gray, and a chill hung in the air. Isobel tightened her wool cloak around her, trying to find some warmth. Sir Alex watched her with interest, and she had to stop herself from reaching for the relic.
“We should start our journey,” Sir Alex said. “We’ll camp near Loch Lomond this night, and I fear storms will hinder our progress.”
“The wind is picking up,” Isobel noted, as she helped him ready their belongings.
“We’ll cover as much ground as we can before the rain falls,” he said.
Isobel sat atop the mare, at his insistence, and he guided the horse, setting a fast pace. The wind blew Isobel’s hair across her face, so she pulled up the hood of her cloak and carefully tucked her hair beneath it. As they continued on, Isobel took in the rolling hills speckled with the golden yellow and green foliage of heather. Late spring blooms of pastel pink and rosy purple filled out some of the shrubby evergreens, with much of the heather yet to flower.
The bleak gray sky above only magnified the natural beauty around them. Isobel feasted on the rainbow of green in the landscape—there was every shade of green imaginable. Moss blanketed parts of the earth in muted and dull shades. The moss was complemented by pops of vibrant emerald grasses and deep dark pines that towered together, protecting the world beneath their canopies.
“Can I ask you something?” Sir Alex asked, as he helped navigate her and the horse through a narrow valley.
“Of course,” Isobel replied.
“Your speech. It’s just you sound English.”
“It is unusual, isn’t it?” Isobel was surprised he hadn’t inquired about it sooner.
“Unusual for a Scot, I think.”
“I do not know if you are aware, but David spent most of his youth in England. The accent remained, even after returning to Scotland, and he brought several scholars and tutors with him from England. They taught me, so I was exposed to the accent at a young age. I suppose when you grow up around it, that is how your own voice comes to sound. Even at court, I spent limited time among the Scots and Gaelic speakers, so I confess my accent makes me even more foreign than I truly am.”
“More foreign?”
Isobel wasn’t sure how much to reveal of herself. Her past was no secret. She was not ashamed of it, nor did it make her vulnerable. It was her past—her story.
“I was an orphan taken in by the king. I came from nothing into a world of everything.” She paused as he nodded. “That made me strange to those at court and a stranger from what I knew. I never belonged there.”
“You can share a common name with an entire clan and not feel as though you belong,” Sir Alex said.
Isobel wondered then, if he, like her, had always struggled to fit in.
“When I return home, I will be a stranger to my people. But in truth, I was a stranger to them before. I didnae do my part to be included—to be one of them—and I will have to fight to gain a place among my people.” Seeming embarrassed by his admission, he quickly changed the subject back to Isobel. “I hope Iona will become the place where you belong, Lady Isobel.”
Isobel nodded, but she wouldn’t say if she held the same hope.
“We should stop for the midday meal and let the mare rest,” Sir Alex said. He guided them off the path and into a thicket of trees. “This will give us some cover if the rain starts.”
Isobel went to climb down from the saddle; Sir Alex was by her side in an instant.
“Let me help,” he offered.
Isobel took his extended hand and slid off the saddle into him, awkwardly colliding with his chest. His hands were at her sides, helping to steady her. She knew the moment he found the case, because his eyes locked with hers.
“What is that?” he asked, as his eyebrows knitted together.
She pushed away from him and straightened her cloak and gown. “ ’Tis nothing.”
Sir Alex arched a brow in response. “Oh, aye, I can see that it is nothing by the shape of it.”
“It is just some jewelry.” Isobel was pleased she’d thought of something quickly. “David felt it’d be safer if I had it sewn into my cloak.”
He studied her for several moments, and Isobel was afraid he didn’t believe her, but then he nodded and untied their supplies. To reveal the secret of the relic was to put it in danger. Though David trusted the crusader with her care, she could not confide the truth of the relic to someone she had known for such a short time.
She was lying. Alex was certain of it. If jewelry isn’t in her cloak, then what is it? Could whatever possession she carries be the cause of her journey to Iona? He did not understand the need for secrecy. Did she steal something? Alex conceded Lady Isobel hardly seemed like a thief, but intuition told him something was wrong with this situation. The woman did not seem keen on taking vows to the church, and her close relationship to the king suggested whatever she was doing, she did on his behalf. She was an orphan taken in by a king. Nothing could make one more indebted than being saved by another. He’d seen it himself in battle. While not saving Lady Isobel from a sword (at least he assumed not), King David had given her a new life.
Alex thought on the old pious king. King David was firm in his rule but always fair. Alex never heard of or witnessed cruelty from him. The man would not force his adopted daughter to do something for him, but that did not mean she would not offer to help. What sort of difficulty is the king in? Their conversation in Edinburgh made Alex believe something troubled the king; he was looking to confirm that he could trust Alex. Did the king know then he’d set me upon this mission? If so, why not just ask me to stay and take the lass from Edinburgh? Why did she need to start the journey alone?
Alex considered all this as they sat and ate their meat pies. Lady Isobel would not supply the information he sought, at least not yet. She did not trust him, just as he did not trust her. One could argue trust was not gained in a matter of days, but Alex always prided himself on his intuition. He was able to judge and determine the trustworthiness of most people within a short period of acquaintance. He could trust a man he’d known less than a day or know to distrust him just as quickly. In the times when it could be proven, Alex was right in his judgment.
Still, Alex acknowledged not everyone had such abilities. Perhaps she was uncertain of him because their time together had been brief. Otherwise, Alex knew he did not merit her distrust. Either she was genuinely unsure of his character or she lied for another reason. Either way, she was keeping the truth of this mission to herself.
He would do his duty to King David, but he would no longer involve his allies or friends. Not until the full truth was revealed. That meant they would not stay the night with his dear friends Tom and Katy. In Edinburgh, he sent them word of his return and intention to visit on his journey home. Indeed, it would have been a perfect and safe place to stay the night, but he was wary of Lady Isobel’s secret. Should that
secret prove to be dangerous, he would not risk involving his friends.
“We should keep moving. We have some distance to journey yet before we can make camp for the night,” Alex said.
They gathered their things, and Alex helped Lady Isobel onto the mare. Once she was situated, he let his hand slip over the hidden object in her cloak. The motion resulted in Lady Isobel’s sharp intake of breath, and her violet eyes widened with worry. Jewelry, my arse.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, moving his hand away from her side.
“Perfectly.” She smiled brightly.
A beautiful smile to mask her discomfort, but it was still a mask. Alex would learn the truth. By the journey’s end, he would learn the real reason Isobel Campbell was going to Iona.
****
Alex stretched his legs, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his feet. Isobel was sound asleep on the plaid beside him. They were camped outside of Inverarnan on the northern tip of Loch Lomond. At daybreak, they would make for town, and, after a night’s rest, journey onward to Oban. Once on Mull, they’d be safe, and his duty to King David would nearly be at its end.
His eyes narrowed on Lady Isobel, examining her face as she slept. She looked at peace now, not worried and tense like she was during the day. Something weighed on her. He knew it involved King David and whatever lay hidden in her cloak.
“Why has David sent you to Iona?” Alex whispered to himself. He reclined against a low boulder and took a swig from the skin. The bitter taste of ale coated his throat. He scanned the perimeter, looking into the darkened woods. The faint sound of a twig snapping carried on the breeze. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as his senses took over.
Something didn’t feel right. Alex reached for his gallowglass sword, a treasured gift from his uncle, an Irish mercenary considered one of the fiercest warriors in the Western Isles. It was the sword Alex trained with and the one he’d taken into battle on Crusade.
Alex listened carefully, blocking out the sound of the breeze in the trees and the crackle of the smoldering wood on the fire. If someone was there, they’d give themselves away eventually. Alex strained to distinguish the sounds buzzing around him. Then he heard it again—a faint snapping of twigs. It could be an animal—a badger or a fox on the prowl—but his gut rebelled against that reasoning.
Alex snuffed the fire. With his sword in hand, he shuffled over to Lady Isobel. With his back to the loch, he placed his free hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed.
“Lady Isobel,” he whispered, his gaze to her face, but, in his periphery, he was aware of the forest. “Isobel, you must wake.”
After a few moments, she mumbled and sighed.
“Lass, please.” His voice became more urgent, and he tightened his hold on her shoulder.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to remain calm and not react. Can you do that?”
She nodded.
“Thirty paces ahead of us, in that grouping of pines—” He nodded toward the forest. “Someone or something is watching us.”
“What?”
Her voiced was raised; Alex quickly covered her mouth with his hand. “We’re being watched.”
Her eyes were alive with worry, but she took a deep breath, and nodded once more. When Alex was satisfied she was calm, he moved his hand away.
“An animal?” she whispered.
“I dinnae think so,” he said. “ ’Tis likely a man.”
“How can you be certain?” She tried to sit up, but Alex kept her down, placing his hand once again on her shoulder.
“I heard twigs snapping,” he whispered.
She looked up at him questioningly with those deep violet eyes, and he could tell she thought him mad, but Alex knew he was right.
“But how?”
“I cannae explain how I know, but I know.”
“What do we do?”
With a grim line set across his face, Alex glanced at the forest and then back to Lady Isobel’s delicate face. It pained him to see her frightened. If he was by himself, Alex would have gone on the offensive, but he couldn’t leave her alone.
“We wait for them to come to us.”
“Wait? Surely there is something—” she began, but Alex shook his head to silence her.
“If I were him, I’d wait until we’d gone to sleep, and then I’d come forth.” He motioned to his plaid, laid out above where Lady Isobel rested by the extinguished fire. “I’m going to lie down and pretend to sleep. I need you to do the same. When someone approaches, I’ll attack.” He paused, studying her solemn expression, finding courage in those sharp violet eyes. A wisp of hair blew across her cheek, and he reached down. Before he could think on it, he gently tucked the loose hair behind her ear. I’ll keep you safe. Alex abruptly dropped his hand and crawled back onto his plaid and waited.
He lay still and kept his breathing slow and steady as he watched the trees. Minutes slipped by.
The glint of a steel sword shone in the moonlight as a man broke through the forest. A crusader? Perhaps a mercenary? Most men in these parts carried a bow or axe. Alex pulled his plaid up close to his face to keep the moonlight from reflecting in his eyes as the man stalked closer. The intruder was now twenty paces away from their camp. He prayed Isobel would keep still, but her breathing hitched. Alex knew she was afraid, but he needed her to trust him.
After the cloaked man took a few more steps, Alex reacted with the speed and skill of a seasoned warrior. In seconds, he was standing on the loch shore with his gallowglass sword drawn. The cloaked figure stopped suddenly, seemingly startled by Alex’s quick movements. Alex held the sword out beside him at full arm’s length with the three-foot blade pointed away from him. He walked slowly across the rocky shoreline, approaching the cloaked man, sword never wavering to show his opponent his strength. Alex hoped the man would turn and run, but the cloaked man regained himself and raised his blade above his head, hilt gripped in both hands like a crusader. Alex held his sword low, angled down from his side.
As the distance between him and the man dwindled to less than five paces, Alex could make out the Celtic scrollwork along the side of his opponent’s blade. A crusader and an islander. He knew the craftsmanship well.
“If you are looking for coin, there is none to be found here,” Alex said.
“Coin is not what I’m after,” his opponent replied.
Alex stopped with only three paces left between him and the cloaked man. As though orchestrated, Alex and the man simultaneously started walking again, this time circling the other. Alex was measuring his opponent for a weakness, but he found none.
“Then what have you come for?” Alex would have preferred a simple thief. What else can the man be after?
“I’ve come for the woman.”
He knows of Isobel? Alex was shocked but recovered quickly. The cloaked man stopped, firmly planting his feet into the pebbled beach. The sound of crunching stones stopped as Alex stood to face the man, both of them with their swords still raised.
“She is not for bargaining.”
“I am here to take back what belongs in Edinburgh,” the cloaked man said, standing fast.
Before Alex could consider his words, the cloaked man kicked out with his foot, showering Alex’s face and chest with stones. Alex hopped back, as his opponent’s sword descended. He swung up to meet the man’s blade; the clash of the weapons reverberated through the night air.
They met blow for blow, each man using movements executed countless times in battle.
The fight shifted with a surprise move from Alex’s opponent. From his boot, the cloaked man produced a knife and threw it straight at him. With a single graceful movement, Alex swung his sword up and struck the knife out of the air, the metal ringing as it landed on the rocky beach. He rushed his opponent and swept his sword down overtop the cloaked man’s head. Yes! This is it! He’s done for! But the victory was premature; the man sidestepped the death blow just in
time. The tip of Alex’s blade crushed only stone.
They circled one another once more. Alex’s muscles burned from exertion, and his heart thundered in his ears. With his senses on edge, he focused on the ragged breathing of his opponent. I’m tired, but so is he. I can wear him down.
The cloaked man raised his sword to strike. Alex met his blade in the air above their heads. They were locked in a battle of strength. The force given was met with equal force. Alex’s teeth clenched as he tried to gain the upper hand, searching his muscles for the strength to overwhelm his opponent.
Just then Lady Isobel screamed.
Another assailant? Alex turned to look at her, leaning his weight off his attacker. The next few moments were a blur as Alex toppled forward and his head collided with a rock. His vision narrowed as though he was looking through a sea cave. Just before blackness swallowed him, the cloaked man picked up his sword and turned toward Lady Isobel.
Chapter 9
Isobel took refuge behind a stack of driftwood as soon as the fight broke out. She was stunned to watch as the men circled each other and clashed swords. She could imagine David saying, “The warriors are well matched,” and he would have been right. She’d seen David’s soldiers practice at the castle enough to know when the best were on the field together. The intensity of the battle made her pulse race, and fear for the outcome left her stomach in knots.
The action continued with Sir Alex’s sword locked against the assailant’s. He wore his short-sleeved tunic again, so Isobel could see Sir Alex’s muscled arms flex as he pushed against the man. The assailant seemed to push back with as much force.
She couldn’t bear to look, but she had no choice. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the scene before her, the moonlight outlining everything.
The men stood with swords locked. They seemed to be at a stalemate for the longest time; neither one was losing or gaining ground. But then it looked as though Sir Alex was leaning back, instead of into the attacker. Is his strength giving out?
Fear flooded her body, seeming to completely encase her from head to toe. What if he fails? What if the other man wins? He’ll die!
