The Crusader's Heart

by Kate Forrest

  “It’s beautiful,” Isobel exclaimed. “ ’Tis the color of wine.”

  “I thought it would bring out the violet of your eyes,” Alex said.

  “You noticed my eyes?”

  “How could I not notice such rare and stunning eyes?” He immediately regretted his words when he saw her eyes light up from the compliment. Alex remembered Katy’s warning. He needed to be careful. “Anyone would notice them,” he added. “Not just me.”

  “I see,” she said.

  “I had them add a special pocket, like you had on your last cloak for the Rood.” He stepped forward and reached for the cloth. “See here,” he said, pointing it out.

  “Aye, ’tis very thoughtful,” she said. “Thank you, Alex.”

  “Aye?” he asked. “Is my Scots Gaelic rubbing off?”

  “I suppose it is.” Isobel smiled.

  Alex couldn’t help but grin. By the journey’s end, she just may pass for an islander. The thought of reaching Iona left him feeling strangely empty. When their journey was over, he’d no longer have cause to see Isobel. He enjoyed her company. He would miss her.

  She is part of the mission, he reminded himself. I cannot have feelings for part of the mission. He was a warrior. Alex knew better than most how to keep his heart out of the mix.

  “We should go down for the evening meal.” And for a few glasses of ale, he thought, as they walked downstairs.

  ****

  After their meal, they returned to their room, and Isobel set about organizing her belongings. Alex watched with interest as she shook out her garments and refolded them with precision, tucking in sprigs of lavender as she went about the task. Katy must have given her the lavender. A clever way to keep her clothes smelling fresh. When she came to the cloak, her hands swept over the decorative needlework around the collar. It had cost a small fortune. Alex knew he should have kept the money for his clan. He did not know what conditions he’d return to, but he felt certain circumstances would be as he left them or worse. Yet, when he’d gone to the market and looked at all the cloaks the dressmaker had to show him, that purple cloak caught his eye. He imagined Isobel standing on the sandy beaches of Iona, the purple cloak tied around her, and her violet eyes sparkling as she gazed out over the sea.

  Isobel tucked the Rood’s case into the hidden pocket, and then carefully laid the cloak over the stool near the hearth.

  “We should rest,” she said. “You planned for us to leave early in the morn. The better rested we are, the greater progress we shall make.”

  “Agreed,” Alex said, taking one last sip of ale from the flagon he’d brought up to the room.

  “I’d like to change.” She twirled her pointer finger in the air, and Alex took her meaning. He turned and faced the wall. A few moments later, he heard her climb on top of the bed.

  “You can turn back now,” she said. She’d pulled the blankets up to her chin. One would think winter was upon them and not the start of summer.

  Alex reached for his bag and pulled out his plaid. He eyed the floor of the small room with a frown for there was no space for him to lie down.

  “You might as well sleep on the bed too,” Isobel said.

  “Nae, the floor is fine. I just need to move the furniture around a bit.”

  “It’ll be our last night of comfort until we make the crossing to Mull,” she argued. “It makes no sense for you to sleep on the floor.”

  “All right.” Alex took off his boots and pulled out the knives he had tucked around his waist but left his clothing on. He climbed onto the narrow bed, the straw compressing beneath his weight and stretched out alongside Isobel.

  “You don’t want to lie underneath the blankets?” she asked.

  “Nae. I’m not cold.”

  They lay together in silence for some time before Isobel spoke.

  “When I was younger, David taught me to read in many languages,” she began. “I can read English, Scots Gaelic, and Latin. Even some Italian.”

  “That’s impressive.” He knew no other woman with such an ability. “I must admit I can only read some English.”

  “You speak it well,” Isobel said. “I noticed you use a mix of Scots Gaelic and English when you talk.”

  “I suppose that’s a result of keeping company with so many English on Crusade,” Alex said. “But speaking it is different from writing it.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “In my case, it seems a waste. I can read like a scholar, but I cannot be one.”

  “Is that what you wish to be?”

  “I wish to be useful,” Isobel said. “I wish to use the bounty of knowledge I have learned under David’s tutors and be a help.”

  “Can you nae help as a nun?” Alex asked. “I know little of the new nunnery—it wasn’t even there when I left—but I know the monks at Columba’s monastery are well educated. They even transcribe books.”

  “Nuns are not like monks in that regard. I have met many in my travels of religious sites with David, yet I know few who are educated or skilled with languages.”

  “You could be the exception then,” Alex said. “And if they don’t want your knowledge there, you could come teach my sisters. I can think of nothing else they desire more than an education.”

  Alex turned onto his side so he could face Isobel, and she turned to face him.

  “I would not be allowed to teach your sisters as a nun, Alex.”

  “Why not?”

  “Nuns on Iona are cloistered. They are not allowed among the people. Once I go there, I will never be permitted to leave.”

  “That cannae be true.”

  “I’m afraid it is,” she said.

  “Perhaps you could transcribe books, as the monks do.”

  “Perhaps,” Isobel said, turning away.

  Alex could tell by how she spoke she did not believe it would happen. A woman of her knowledge should not be kept away from society. She could do so much to enrich the lives of the people around her.

  “I wish Margaret were alive. She would know how to counsel me, just as she did David.”

  “Aye, I’m sure she could have.”

  Queen Margaret had passed before Alex was even born, but his grandfather met Malcolm and Margaret in Dunfermline, when the abbey there was consecrated. Alex could still remember his grandfather’s description of the fair queen. “She glowed, like the sun, and I never saw light in a person like that before or since,” he’d told Alex when Alex had been but a wee lad. There were so few memories he held of his grandfather, but the old man’s reverence for Queen Margaret stuck in Alex’s mind.

  “You won’t dishonor him, if you choose another path,” Alex offered.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, turning to face him once more.

  “I mean, just because this is what King David wants does nae mean he will be disappointed if you decide this isn’t your path.”

  “There are few paths for a woman, Alex. Trust me. I thought of this often enough.”

  “Think on it some more. You need to be certain.”

  “I will,” Isobel said. “Deciding one’s future is never easy, is it?”

  “Nae, I don’t think it’s supposed to be.”

  “And what about you?” she asked. “Have you decided on your future?”

  “What?”

  “Have you decided what to do about your intended?” she asked.

  “My intended?” Alex was confused.

  “Katherine told me you were intended for some woman. She said you were meant to see her before returning home. I feared this mission ruined your chances with her.”

  Leave it to Katherine to tell Isobel tales of the Angus bride. Though she is not my Angus bride anymore. Knowing Katherine had spoken about her, Alex was concerned about what all she’d revealed.

  “Did she tell you why I was marrying her?”

  “No,” Isobel said. “Though, she may have implied this woman could provide something your clan needed.”

  “But she did not say what?”<
br />
  “No.”

  At least Katherine had spared him the humiliation of confessing his clan’s dire situation, though he should be angry she had divulged anything about it. He did not need Isobel knowing any of this, but now that she had some knowledge of it, he was unsure of how to reply.

  He could tell Isobel the truth—the Angus woman was no longer his intended—but letting her believe it kept much needed distance between them. His clan was without means. What could he offer her besides hardship? Better to let her think I have someone.

  “She may yet wait for me,” Alex said. “But there is nothing to be done about it until I return home.”

  “I hope you can find happiness, Alex,” Isobel said. She sounded so sad. It was all Alex could do to keep himself from telling her the truth.

  Stay firm, Alex. It is better for her to believe this.

  “I hope you find happiness as well, Isobel.” He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but touching her would do neither of them any good. Before he could change his mind, she turned and faced away from him.

  After several minutes passed by, her breathing steadied. Certain she was asleep, he reached out and gently placed his hand on her arm. He inhaled her scent—heather and lavender—and sighed deeply, letting his eyes finally drift closed.

  Chapter 16

  Edinburgh Castle, late that same evening

  Robbie stood in Margaret’s chapel waiting for the bishop. King David had built the chapel as a private place of worship for his family and later dedicated it to his mother, Queen Margaret. The space was small but peaceful. He used the quiet time alone to contemplate his words to the bishop. He risked his life in coming empty-handed, but he had no choice. Failure to make an appearance when summoned would rouse suspicion, and the bishop would send more men when he learned of Robbie’s failure. In truth, he probably already knew Robbie did not carry the Rood. Guards had searched Robbie upon entry to the castle. He brought nothing with him, save for a knife.

  The door to the chapel opened, and Robbie straightened his spine. The bishop had arrived.

  “My men told me you were unsuccessful,” the bishop said.

  Robbie nodded.

  “I’m disappointed.” He was eerily calm and even toned, but the man radiated displeasure.

  Robbie explained what transpired, leaving out all the details he could. When spinning a lie, it was best to keep as much truth as possible. Robbie even showed him the wound on his side, which was healing well thanks to Katherine.

  “Bested by a woman? Most men wouldn’t believe you.”

  “Most men wouldn’t own up to it,” Robbie countered.

  The bishop nodded. “That is true.” He paced around the small stone room, then paused to say, “Considering where you caught them, it seems they mean to take it to Iona. ’Tis well then I sent two more men after her. They were only a few days behind you. ’Tis likely they have found the Rood.”

  “You thought I would fail?” Robbie hadn’t expected another team to be sent so quickly. The MacKinnon and Lady Isobel were in danger.

  “I plan for mistakes,” the bishop said simply. “I’m afraid this means I won’t be able to help your sister after all.”

  Robbie nodded. He knew what he sacrificed, but he also trusted the MacKinnon. He would send a healer, as he promised.

  “You may also have trouble finding anyone else to hire you.”

  “What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes at the bishop.

  “You should have known there would be repercussions for failure. I suggest you leave the city. There is no hope of finding someone that will hire your sword in Edinburgh.”

  The threat was clear. Robbie needed to get his family out of the city and soon.

  Robbie wasted no time getting home. He rented rooms above the tailor. They were humble lodgings but safe, and that mattered a great deal when he traveled for work. Once inside the door, he called for Murdoch.

  “How’s Agnes?” he asked, when his younger brother appeared.

  “Better. Her breathing is steady, and she hasn’t coughed since you gave her that medicine earlier.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Robbie said. “I think she’ll be well enough to make the journey.”

  “Make what journey?”

  “We need to leave the city.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” Robbie said. He didn’t want to alarm the lad, but they needed to leave as soon as possible. “We’re moving back to the Isles. There is a healer there that can help Agnes and a clan that has need of my sword.”

  “And me? What about me?” Murdoch asked.

  “You’ll train with the clan’s men,” Robbie assured him. Murdoch had wanted this for years. Because of their situation, he could not let Murdoch go off and foster. The lad was determined to be a great warrior, and it infuriated him that he could not train as one. He’d just seen his fifteenth year. He was young yet, but old to be begin training.

  “You mean it, Robbie? You’ll let me train?”

  “Aye, you’ll train with the best warriors in the Isles.”

  Murdoch launched himself against Robbie’s chest. Robbie embraced him in a hug and laughed. He’d never seen him so happy before.

  Pulling away, Murdoch’s brows knitted together in concern. “I don’t have much to pack, but I best get to it. Will you see to Agnes?”

  “Aye, get going. I want to leave at daybreak.”

  Robbie gathered his and Agnes’s possessions and tucked them into a few bags. Aside from his weaponry and some clothing, Robbie had very little to his name. Agnes had a few simple gowns and her needlework, which she worked at most days. Everything else in their rooms was rented from the tailor. Though never easy to start again, they would do it, as they’d done before.

  When Murdoch and Agnes were ready, Robbie loaded up Coira with their belongings and they began the journey west to Mull. Once they were safely out of the city, Robbie would ride ahead to warn MacKinnon. He prayed it would not be too late.

  Chapter 17

  The two-day journey between Inverarnan and Oban was uneventful. They’d spoken very little, and a solemn cloud seemed to hang over them both. Alex was quiet, with a furrowed brow. He was conflicted, and she felt certain his turmoil was over his intended bride. She yearned to discuss it with him, but she could find no cause to do so. He is my escort to Iona. His marriage does not concern me. But what if he is conflicted over his marriage because of his interest in me? Surely the tension between them was not one-sided. Perhaps it is just physical attraction and nothing more. Isobel sighed deeply. How could something unspoken be so complicated?

  The town was a welcome distraction from the flurry of thoughts consuming her. The seaside village was brimming with activity, but there was little time to explore. Isobel stood by the dock, where their newly chartered boat waited. The air was salty and fishy, and the wind cut off the water, but Isobel drank it in. They were close now. Soon the relic would be safely in the hands of the nunnery’s prioress. She felt relief, and yet her insides fluttered. The sooner she reached Iona, the sooner she had to make a choice.

  She looked to Alex. He stood bartering with a baker. He returned with a loaf of bread for their journey across Mull, and something else wrapped in cloth.

  “I was surprised he had it,” Alex said, as he handed the cloth to her.

  Curious, Isobel unfolded it and found two slices of gingerbread.

  “I thought you liked it,” he said, sounding uncertain.

  “It is my favorite.” Isobel couldn’t believe his thoughtfulness. “But why?”

  “We should all have some comforts from time to time.”

  He wanted her to be happy. “Thank you, Alex. ’Tis very kind.”

  “You are welcome, Isobel.” Alex smiled, before letting the warrior façade fall back into place. He looked to the sea. “The winds are favorable; we should depart soon for Duart Keep.”

  ****

  “Surely you cannot row straight for three
hours,” Isobel said in shock as Alex helped her board the small watercraft.

  “I’m an islander. I can row all day.”

  “Are you gloating, islander?”

  “Glotta,” Alex said. “That’s the Old Norse word for it, and aye, I am.” He grinned as he pushed the boat into the water and jumped aboard.

  “You won’t be grinning at the midday meal.”

  “I’m sure you are right, lass, but for now, I’m doing just fine.”

  And he was, to Isobel’s astonishment, doing just fine. He cut through the waves as though they were nothing. Favorable winds were something to be grateful for, though, and aided their journey considerably. Isobel admired the green-blue sea around her. Though she’d lived close to the North Sea in Edinburgh, she was rarely by the water. The beauty of the landscape here was unparalleled by anything she’d seen before. Distinct from the eastern shoreline in so many different ways. She was also surprised by the relative calmness of the seas.

  “I thought the waves would be bigger,” Isobel commented, after observing the breaks in the water.

  “ ’Tis the inner seas. They are usually much calmer than the waters out beyond the Inner Hebrides.”

  “What are the Inner Hebrides?” She’d never heard of them before.

  “Mull, Iona, Staffa, and Skye—along with some other isles, make up the Inner Hebrides. The Outer Hebrides consists of Uist, Lewis and Harris, and a hundred or so smaller islands.”

  “Have you been to all of them?”

  “Nae,” Alex said. His muscles flexed as he lifted the oars out of the water, taking a break.

  “How far west have you gone?”

  “Ireland,” he said. “Though it is southwest.”

  Isobel knew Columba had come from Ireland to create a religious community on Iona, but she knew very little of Ireland itself.

  “What is it like there?” Isobel asked, interested to learn more.

  “Like here but different.”

  Isobel frowned. That didn’t tell her anything at all. “What do you mean?”

  Alex relaxed his arms, pulling the oars up higher out of the water. He seemed to be thoughtfully considering her question, but then he shook his head, shrugged and continued to row.