There Your Heart Will Be Also

by Felicia Rogers

  The only thing going for him was the entire lot was speaking Gaelic. Now all he could do was hope the knights in the castle didn’t speak it as well.

  “This is almost too easy, I tell ye.”

  “Aye, canna be a good thing.”

  “Well they are havin’ some kind of festival for the little lady of the place, I heard.”

  “Aye, I heard it as well.”

  “Lucky for us her useless crew of knights isn’t on duty, right?”

  All matter of back slapping and congratulating began to ensue, when Cedric heard someone reply, “Aye, lucky for us.”

  “What are we going to do with all these sheep? We are too far away to take them home.”

  “We might carry them away and slaughter them.”

  “Seems a might bit wasteful if ye ask me. Why don’t we stay close by and try to sell them back to the castle?” said one of the Scotsmen, with amusement.

  The crowd laughed heartily at the idea. Cedric was becoming angrier by the minute. He couldn’t see a thing. Eyes still adjusting to the blackness of night, Cedric struggled to listen.

  Where was Duncan? If he was leading this rag-tag bunch of men, then Cedric had yet to hear him speak.

  At the risk of being recognized and some fool giving him away to the knights, Cedric said, “I think maybe we ought to just leave them be. Especially since our laird didn’t request us to come.”

  Cedric heard a snicker. “A laird? Since when did we follow a laird?”

  Then another voice added, “Why would we do such a thing? Don’t need no laird. We received payment in gold for this job.”

  Payment in gold? Unease set in. Cedric had indeed sent payment by Barney for Duncan and his men, but not in gold.

  Apprehension mounted. Who are these people? Swallowing against his fear, Cedric tried another tactic. “I heard a tale the mistress of the keep is going to marry a Scot.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, really,” replied Cedric.

  Cedric could just make out the shadow of the Scotsman speaking as he struck a thoughtful pose and stroked his chin. “I guess it does change things a mite. We canna rightly kill one of our own. But we don’t know for sure she is going to marry a Scot, now do we? Why would a Scot marry an English lass when there are so many young Scottish lasses to chose from? And any Scot worth ’is salt would be out here tryin’ to protect his future property, right? Aye, I think he would. Right, lads?”

  Cedric could hear, rather than see, the heads nodding in agreement. This had gone on long enough. Cedric was furious. If his no account friend, Duncan, had gone and gotten himself so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing, Cedric would skin him and leave him for the buzzards!

  With a calm voice, Cedric said, “Duncan? Is that ye?”

  “Afraid not. There ain’t no Duncan in his band. And now I hear ye again, ye don’t sound familiar. Who are ye?”

  How could Duncan not be here? If this group wasn’t his own men, then who were they? Swallowing, Cedric wondered how things could get any worse.

  When Cedric didn’t answer, one of the group changed the subject saying, “What time is it? We are never going to get out of here. We are goin’ to get caught for sure. We must have brought a bunch of English lily-livered sissies along with us.”

  His pulse raced. Where had he gone wrong? Cedric hadn’t personally spoken to Duncan about helping him. He’d left it up to Barney, his hireling, obviously not the best plan.

  As he listened to the Scots argue amongst themselves, and no voices were familiar, it appeared he was right in the middle of a group of unruly and unknown Scots.

  But if Cedric believed because he had not answered earlier, that he wasn’t still being sought, he was mistaken. In all the confusion some of the men were trying to discover his identity by accosting their friends.

  One Scot must have been pulled aside because he yelled, “Aye, I told ye it was me. Ye have been with me this whole time and ye are just now realizing who I am. Are ye daft?”

  When the noise settled, the silence was as thick as butter. Only the chirping of crickets could be heard. At one point Cedric thought he picked up the sound of a man scratching, but he could have been mistaken.

  Cedric worried Sir Henry would lead a charge at any moment and he would be caught in the fray, unable to escape. How could he defuse this situation with the least possible casualities?

  “What are we goin’ to do?” came a voice from the crowd.

  “We were hired to take the sheep. Seems like the least we can do is to accommodate our employer.”

  Snickers went around. Cedric pulled his sword free. If he had to protect these animals with his life, so be it. The moonlight hit his blade, shining on the face of one of the raiders.

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “Who are ye?” escaped the man’s parted lips before Cedric took him down with one swipe.

  The agonized moan sent the group into panic. Blades whipped around him wildly. Cedric couldn’t possibly fight the lot of them alone. Eventually he would be forced to press the keep’s knights into service. With his fingers upon his lips, preparing to alert Sir Henry, Cedric spotted what appeared to be a giant cloud. A thousand stars winked. Cedric squinted at the disturbance, realizing it was dust and it was headed his way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cedric and the raiders didn’t move as the cloud drew near. The distraction would provide Cedric with the perfect cover to continue his attack but he found his eyes drawn to the activity before him, keeping him immobilized. If more raiders were on the way, Cedric needed to regroup and gather the knights for certain. And if it wasn’t more raiders, than whom could it be?

  As he gazed in the direction of the incoming group of horsemen, Cedric was surprised to hear a war cry. The horses skidded to a stop within five feet of the raiders. The riders jumped from the backs of their animals, raised their swords and screamed, hacking their way into the crowd.

  The inebriated raiders, some weaponless, fell back in retreat. Some ran for the road, some for the woods, while a few stood and fought.

  Cedric raised his arm in defense of his future keep. When the skirmish was over, there wasn’t one raider left, alive or otherwise to tell the story of why they’d come.

  The noise of clashing swords ended, as men panted for breath. As the noises calmed a familiar voice was heard. When Cedric was able, he asked, “Duncan?”

  “Aye?” he heard in response.

  “It’s me Cedric.”

  “What?” The yell reverberated off the castle walls.

  “Keep ye voice down, ye dolt.”

  “How can it be ye Cedric? We dun heard ye were deceased. In fact, I heard it so many times, when Barney told me otherwise I thought he’d seen a ghost. Come closer boy, so I can see ye.”

  Cedric didn’t particularly like Duncan calling him “boy”, there being only a few years difference in their ages. He moved closer. Duncan stared at him as he came out of the mist.

  “It is me, I tell ye,” Cedric added in a whisper, “Where have ye been?”

  “What did ye say?” asked Duncan.

  “Keep ye voice down. What I asked ye was, where have ye been? Those men there were tryin’ to kill me subjects and perhaps even myself.”

  Duncan rubbed his day-old beard, looking down as his foot stepped on a kilt covered in drying blood. “We thought we were doing in the English. I don’t feel right about doing in my kin.”

  “Well, I don’t feel right about it either. But they were takin’ the keep’s sheep.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.” Cedric scooted back and added a little louder, “But since ye are here, and ye saved the keep, why don’t ye come in for some refreshment?” Finishing in a whisper, “Then ye can spend some time explainin’ what ye are doing here so early.”

  “Aye, mighty sportin’ of ye. Just let me explain to me men we are leaving the sheep and we won’t be long in visitin’ ye.”

  “Aye. Ye tell them the ruse won’t b
e necessary now. And let me tell the knights over the knoll the threat is over. Let’s hope they don’t see ye as a danger, or we might all be in a spot of trouble.”

  “Knights?”

  “Of course,” Cedric said with a grin. Adding, “Ye don’t think I could fight the whole lot of Scots, do ye?”

  “With the things I have heard about ye, nothin’ would surprise me.”

  “Duncan Sinclair, from what I have heard tell of ye, I would need an extra set of hands just to be ye equal.”

  Duncan shrugged, “Go tell yer men, Cedric. I would take pleasure in sharing ale with family.”

  Cedric turned his back on a silent Duncan and headed to Sir Henry’s position. He translated all which had been said, trying to put his own spin on it. If Sir Henry thought anything was amiss, he didn’t act like it. Cedric sighed and went ahead of the company of Scots, grateful at least he didn’t seem to be in any trouble.

  Stepping over a body, Cedric wondered where these men had come from. They would have to bury them on the morrow when the sun rose, for sure. But now all he could think about was what had they meant when they were talking about gold? The more he thought on their conversation, the more he realized it sounded like they’d been hired. But why? And by whom?

  And what about Duncan? Why had he come so early? The lot of them had ruined his whole plan. He couldn’t very well swoop in and save the day and impress the mistress of the keep if the raiders were already here! But maybe if he could find who hired the other men then he could still be responsible for saving the day.

  Raking an agitated hand through his hair, Cedric was happy as he continued through the keep gates. The more he thought about it, this could work out better than the original plan. Now he was a hero and there would be no need to fake it.

  As he heard the Scots following, Cedric realized they would never fit inside Megean’s small cottage. They would just have to sleep out on the hills.

  With a wicked grin, he prayed for rain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “My lord, I have news.”

  Wilt’s back was turned, the mist dotting the window of the small wooden cottage drawing his attention. The shuffle of the Scot behind him was quite annoying. Sighing heavily, he picked up his silver pocket watch and studied the tarnished case. At one time this treasure had gleamed and shone, but like all his possessions it was now tarnished and blemished. Just like his life.

  The hands no longer moved, but still he kept it. The piece reminded him of better days. Happier times.

  While he studied the time piece, he noticed the frayed edge of his waist coat. Straightening his clothing, he faced the Scot. A glimpse in a looking glass showed a wild, unwashed, unkempt man. How had he let himself go? No matter. All this would change. This Scot was here to tell him the good news.

  ****

  Sarra strained to hear. But out of all the sounds, only the shuffling of feet and the mumbling of words were distinct. When the shouting and clanging of swords came unexpectedly, Sarra’s foot slipped, and she lost her balance, wobbling toward the edge of the wall. She threw out her hand, grasping for the rough corner of the rock. Once steady, she took a few calming breaths before she leaned forward a little farther and tried to make out what was going on.

  Sarra kept waiting for the continuing sounds of clashing swords and the smell of bloodletting, but it never came. From her post on the battlements, working to make sense out of what was going on below her was a frustrating endeavor. The eerie silence following the shout was deafening. She remained in her position and continued to wait for word. If none came soon, she was going to go down and join the battle herself.

  From the battlements, she watched as a group of kilted men came through the opened gate. It seemed it took them hours to enter the castle. If her knights had been forced to defend the castle and rescue the flock from this group of giants, they would have suffered many causalities.

  The back slapping and merriment which came with the crowd was unnerving to say the least. If the group of men entering were prisoners, then they wouldn’t be this happy. What if the Scots had taken down her knights and now she was a prisoner? All these thoughts and more raced through her head as she descended from her perch. Halfway down the battlement stairs, Sarra was grasped around the waist and placed on the ground. When she glanced up, there were Cedric’s crystal clear blue eyes staring at her.

  “I must ask ye a question.”

  “All right,” Sarra replied.

  “I have yet to meet yer mistress, but I have experienced her hospitality on many occasions. Do ye think she would mind if we invited these Scots to stay for a bit?”

  The kilted men stood directly behind him and there was no privacy. Between clenched teeth she asked, “And why exactly would I ask sheep raiders to stay at my mistress’ keep?”

  “Well, ye see lass, these were the men who stopped the sheep raid.”

  Sarra leaned around Cedric and looked at the nodding group. She would have asked more questions but it was hard to concentrate as Cedric made little circular motions with his fingers around her waist.

  Before Sarra could say anything more, Cedric added, “Don’t concern yerself with the sleeping arrangements. These are Highlanders. They’ll sleep out on the hills.”

  Her brain felt like a bowl full of gruel. The only words she could push past her mouth were, “Oh, no, that would be just fine, just fine.”

  Not only was Sarra fighting with why these strangers should be allowed to enter, but also she struggled to remain focused so as to not give away her ruse. Drawing a calming breath, she spoke quietly. “Why don’t I find Cook and ask him to set out the remaining food from the celebration and we will feed the, hmmm, the guests.”

  “Aye, that would be nice. I am sure they would appreciate it. But do ye need to ask the mistress first?”

  “Aye. I should,” Sarra answered, smiling at him. Grinning broadly like a wild woman, she was. Her mouth stretched wide, hankering for the goodnight kiss they’d missed earlier. It felt as if an eternity had passed. Instead of waiting any longer, Sarra angled on tiptoes. As her lips came within inches of Cedric’s, she licked their expanse in anticipation.

  While Sarra struggled to find an appropriate angle for her head, Cedric’s face held a devilish smirk. She sensed he was enjoying the sweet torture immensely.

  Then Sarra heard a distinct cough behind them. Planting her feet flat down on the ground, she went tense in his arms.

  “Aye, can I help ye?” Cedric turned his head to speak over his shoulder to the man who interrupted them.

  “Cedric, I am sorry. But the men were wondering if we were going to eat soon? We traveled pretty far today and we haven’t gotten to eat in awhile.”

  Cedric gently placed Sarra away from him and turned around, using his body to block their view of her. “Aye, Duncan, take the men inside the keep and I’ll be along.”

  While Cedric’s back was toward her, Sarra silently slipped away. She skirted the edge of the yard and took the back entrance into the keep. She found the cook whistling to himself in his overly clean kitchen. “Cook, we have company which needs to be fed.”

  “Aye, do we now? After I just got everything put away and figured out for the coming days, now ye are telling me to get it all back out again. Am I hearin’ ye correctly?”

  “Cook, I do apologize. And I am not telling you. I am asking you if you wouldn’t mind serving the keep’s guests.”

  “I guess it would make for a nicer meal. Get it while it’s hot, I always say.”

  “Thank you, Cook.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  To maintain her ruse as a maid, Sarra helped in preparing the food. Fresh fruit and vegetables were arranged artistically onto a tray. A jug of ale was retrieved. When everything was ready, she picked up the serving dish and the jug and headed through the swinging door, while Cook continued getting the other victuals prepared.

  ****

  Cedric spun back around after his conversation wi
th Duncan, ready to resume his game with Sarra only to find the lass had disappeared. Where had she gotten off to? He searched the immediate area and decided Sarra must have gone inside the keep. Maybe the need to ask permission for the Scots to come inside had sent her ahead.

  Cedric found himself hoping Sarra didn’t get in any trouble. He was growing fond of the young lass, and didn’t want her to be punished. Of course Sarra was a dalliance, nothing more. The mistress of Greenbriar was the true prize. She alone held the key to his future.

  Cedric made his way toward the keep. Even though he told himself to stop, he couldn’t help but look for Sarra with each step he took. He was just entering the doors off the main hall with the Scots in tow when Sarra came through the swinging door laden with food.

  He headed toward her to help but he was waylaid by Scotsmen.

  “Cedric, we heard ye had been killed by the MacNeils.”

  Cedric watched Sarra out of the corner of his eye, trying to gain her attention. “Ye obviously heard incorrectly.”

  Why had he not told Barney to explain the situation to Duncan and his men? Would they sit in the great hall and tell all of his plans?

  Duncan howled. “That we did boy. That we did. I always did like William. And Elinor, yer mother, was a saint. What her family did to her because she married William was just plain unsightly. And then for ye own family to treat ye so poorly after William was gone.” He shook his head in disgust. “It just wasn’t right. Ye know this, the Sinclair’s have nothin’ against ye lad, nothin’ at all.”

  “Thank ye. I will remember ye said so. But Duncan can ye refrain from calling me lad? Ye are just a bit older than I.”

  Duncan chortled. “Perhaps I can manage it.”

  “And to think ye were relegated to marrying an English harlot just to have a little land to ye name. I am sorry for ye.” A Scot named Amos gave a shake of his head.

  Cedric saw Sarra lose her grip on the tray before he heard it crash to the ground.