“And why you rebuild with such enthusiasm.”
“Because Rafael refuses to pass another winter in the stables.” Malcolm dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I believe I should like to keep the horses there, at any rate.” Vivienne laughed at that, though Rafael merely snorted.
“And what of your nose?”
“Broken and healed anew. There is no tale there.”
“You vex me apurpose, Malcolm,” Vivienne charged with laughter in her voice.
Malcolm was aware that Catriona trailed behind the small party as he showed the new construction to his sister and her husband. He might have been speaking to the serving maid, so keenly was he attuned to her response. He had a curious desire for her to think well of what he had done.
It would be a feat to drive the suspicion from her eyes and the fear from her reactions.
“You should be warned that the fare is simple and the bed simpler yet,” he said to Vivienne, all the while thinking of what might be changed to better accommodate them. “I have only straw pallets in the solar, though you are welcome to that chamber’s comparative comfort. The roof is not quite completed on the north side, and there may be rain this night.”
“Ah, Erik, you see that we shall experience Ravensmuir at its best,” Vivienne said, clearly trying to heal the breach between the two men. Malcolm stiffened slightly at her assumption that the entire family would use the solar.
It was one matter to leave his own sister alone near the locked door of his treasury, quite another for her spouse to be there.
His gaze locked with Erik’s and he knew that man had noted his reaction.
“I will sleep in the stables,” Erik said with some pride. “And leave the hall to you. Ruari will have need of some companionship.”
Malcolm was relieved at this suggestion and nodded agreement to Erik, letting his relief show. He had already insulted his sister’s spouse and compelled himself to recall that these were his first guests.
Ruari nodded at his laird’s glance and led the destriers toward the stables. The palfreys grazed contentedly, showing no intent to pull the cart farther than already they had.
“Ruari?” Vivienne echoed, her tone teasing. “You would abandon me for Ruari?”
“He had much foreboding about Ravensmuir,” Mairi confided from Malcolm’s side. “And nigh frightened Catriona with his tales of ghosts and the laird’s ability to talk with ravens.”
“The ravens are at Ravensmuir no longer,” Malcolm said quickly. “They left as one after the keep collapsed and Tynan died.” He pointed to the sky. “They circled where the tower had been, as if to say farewell, then departed in unison.”
“Did they not tell you why they left?” Mairi asked.
“They did not have to,” Malcolm replied. “The laird had died, the keep collapsed, and they chose not to remain.”
“But you became laird,” Vivienne insisted quietly. “I would have thought Melusine would have returned to greet you,” she added, referring to one of the oldest ravens.
Malcolm shrugged. “Perhaps they did not approve.” Erik sniffed at that, and Malcolm knew that Alexander would have shared his view.
Vivienne squeezed his arm. “When the new keep is completed, they will return.”
“Perhaps.” Malcolm could not keep himself from flicking a glance skyward and knew his sister noticed.
“I should ensure Ruari’s welfare,” Erik said then, his manner impatient, and strode toward the stables.
Vivienne watched him go, her concern clear. She touched her fingertips to Malcolm’s arm, excused herself, then went after her spouse. She caught up to him outside the stables, and Malcolm could find naught to criticize in the way Erik turned to her and supported her arm as they continued.
Rafael and Malcolm exchanged a glance, then Rafael went after the guests. Without exchanging a word, both knew that the new arrivals must be kept away from the endmost stall.
“Is it true that there is a ghost?” Astrid demanded shyly of Malcolm.
“And what of the ruins?” asked Mairi without waiting for a reply to her sister’s query. “I would wager that they are filled with secret passages and treasure.”
“Treasure!” echoed Catherine with awe.
“And danger,” Catriona interjected firmly from behind him. “Did you not note the hedge of thorns when we arrived? Such plants are tended by the Fae.” Malcolm glanced back at the serving woman, startled by her words. She surveyed Ravensmuir with her hands braced on her hips. “I must wonder if the Unseelie Court can be found near here.”
“Not the Unseelie Court!” Astrid squealed, clearly delighted by the horrors of the tales she had heard of this wicked group of Fae. “They will eat you up!”
“Worse, they will make you aid them in their mischief,” Mairi contributed. Catherine’s eyes were round and her fist returned to her mouth. “They will snatch you up and drag you behind them on their wild ride, then scratch you and bite you.” She reached for her youngest sister to demonstrate, and Catherine squealed.
“And never let you go home again,” Astrid concluded.
Catherine whimpered and eased close to Catriona at her sisters’ teasing.
“If you stay close to me, I will keep you safe,” Catriona told the youngest girl, who took her hand. She spared a glance at the older two, who looked inclined to run and seek out this Fae court, simply for the sake of curiosity. She surveyed the countryside as if seeking her bearings, and Malcolm wondered if she had been in these lands before. “Are we at all near Huntlie bank, sir?”
Malcolm understood her reference immediately. “Where True Thomas met the Fae queen?” he asked, recalling that this tale was one of Vivienne’s favorites. It appeared she had told it to her daughters, for their eyes lit. “Indeed. It is not far at all.” He stood and pointed south. “Just over the moor, past Kinfairlie.”
“Then there is peril indeed,” Catriona concluded, her tone dark.
Mairi began to sing, apparently not feeling imperiled at all.
“True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
when he espied a fairy lady;
This lady she was brisk and bold,
and she rode to the Eildon Tree.
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk;
her bridle of gold most fine;
and woven into her horse’s mane,
were fifty silver bells and nine.”
Astrid seized Mairi’s hands and the girls danced in a circle as they sang the words together. Catherine smiled shyly, her fist coming out of her mouth again, and the boy clapped his hands.
“True Thomas he took off his hat,
and bowed him low down till his knee.
‘All hail, Mary, mighty Queen of Heaven!
Your peer on earth I ne’er did see.’
‘Oh no, oh no, True Thomas,’ she said,
‘That name does not belong to me.
I am the queen of the fairy realm,
come to hunt with greyhounds three’.
‘Now you must ride with me,’ she said;
True Thomas, you must come with me;
For you must serve me seven years,
through well or woe as chance to be.’
She mounted then her milk-white steed,
and took True Thomas up behind;
With every ring of her bridle,
her horse ran faster than the wind.”
Catriona stepped forward, raising her own voice in the song. Malcolm found himself startled by the words, which he had long forgotten.
He had seen this realm of the Fae on the night of his arrival at Ravensmuir, however.
“It was a dark dark night, with no light;
they waded through red blood to the knee:
For all the blood that’s shed on earth;
runs through the rivers of Fairie.”
Malcolm started at that detail and realized that Catriona was watching him. It seemed she sang the next verse to him.
“He saw the tho
rn upon the hill,
and he did hear the sea.”
The girls’ eyes rounded as Catriona pointed from the hedge of thorns to the sea beyond the cliffs. “They are here,” Catherine whispered, once again drawing closer to Catriona.
“But in this part of the tale, she teaches him,” Mairi confided to her sisters, then sang the next verse.
“‘Oh do you see yon narrow road,
so thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness,
though after it but few enquires.”
That was true enough, in Malcolm’s experience of men, though he did not comment upon it. He was aware that Catriona sang directly to him, as if she guessed his thoughts.
Did she have the Sight? Had she guessed the truth of his holding?
Or did she simply tell a tale to keep the girls out of mischief?
Once again, Astrid joined the song. She had a fine clear voice, higher than Mairi’s and one that reminded Malcolm a little too well of the sweet Fae voices he had heard at their revels.
“And do you see that broad broad road,
that lies across the little leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
though some call it the road to heaven.’”
Catriona then sang again. Her voice was a rich contralto that Malcolm found wondrously feminine and surprisingly warm. She pointed to the ruins of the old keep and the path of beaten-down grass that the mason’s apprentices had created when retrieving stones.
“‘And do you see that bonnie road,
which winds about the ferny slope?
That is the road to the Fairie court,
where you and I this night will go.”
Catriona shook her finger, even as Malcolm’s heart clenched.
“But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,
whatever you may hear or see;
For if a word you should chance to speak,
never will you return to your own country.’”
“That is how it is,” Mairi informed Malcolm solemnly. “If you eat or drink at the Fae court, you can never leave. In every tale, it is the same so it must be true.”
“I know it is true.”
“How do you know it?”
“Because I have seen it.”
“Here?” The girls squealed with delight when Malcolm nodded, though Catriona’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“But you must not have danced. If you dance, you will dance for years when you think it mere moments,” Astrid informed him with equal seriousness.
“Indeed. It is wisest to stay away in the first place.” Malcolm knew more than sufficient of such errors. He was spared the need to elaborate when Catriona sang again.
“She blew her horn, took the reins,
and to the castle they did ride.
Into the hall rightly she went;
Thomas followed at her side.
Harp and fiddle there they found,
the gittern and the psaltery;
The lute and rebec there did sound,
and all manner of minstrelsy.”
“It seemed a fine place,” Mairi explained to Malcolm as if he might fail to understand the lesson of the tale. “But it was a Fae trick played upon True Thomas.”
“They are deceitful,” Malcolm agreed and Mairi began to sing again.
“One morn, his lady spake to him;
‘Thomas, here you may no longer be.
Hasten yourself with might and main,
I shall take you to the Eildon Tree.’
Thomas said with heavy cheer,
‘Lovely lady, let me take ease,
for scarce have I savored this place;
merely seven nights and days.’”
This time Mairi shook her finger, mimicking Catriona before she continued.
“‘Forsooth, Thomas, I tell you true:
You have danced seven years and more!
You must here no longer dwell;
I shall take you home therefore.’”
The girls sang the last verse along with Catriona.
“He has gotten a coat of even cloth,
and shoes of velvet green,
but ’til seven years were past and gone
True Thomas was never seen.”
It was a fine tale and finely told.
Had Catriona chosen it on purpose to reveal that she had seen the truth?
Chapter Three
“Is that what happened to you?” Mairi demanded of Malcolm. “Have you truly been to the Unseelie court?” This eldest girl was clearly the boldest of Erik’s daughters, and Malcolm could see in her eyes that she was no fool. Her hair was of a chestnut hue and fell in waves down her back. Astrid had hair even darker than that of her older sister, and Malcolm assumed that this came from their mother, for Erik was fair. Catherine’s hair tended to reddish gold, while both William and Euphemia had hair of brilliant red.
“First I was at war. It was on my return to Scotland that I heard their music, but I did not dance,” he said, crouching down beside Mairi. He felt Catriona watching him and knew she wondered whether his tale were true. He dropped his voice as if confiding a dark secret to the children. “For I had a nursemaid so wise as to warn me of the danger, when I was no larger than your brother William. Your Catriona does you great service to warn you of the perils here at Ravensmuir.” Malcolm wagged a finger at the girls. “And so, you must pledge to me that you will remain in the hall when you are alone.”
“What if we will not?” Mairi asked. “I should like to run here in the bailey.” Her gaze slid to the masons and their workers, more than one of whom was watching the small group of girls. Malcolm leveled a stern look at the men he was employing, his single glance sending them back to work with gusto.
“While there are men abroad and work being done?” Catriona chided, her thoughts having followed the same course as his own. “I think not.”
“I confess I agree with Catriona,” Malcolm said. He straightened, towering over the girls and doing his best to look imposing. “You must recall that I am Laird of Ravensmuir and you are guests in my hall. Should you disobey my edict while on my holding, one made purely for your own safety, you shall be compelled to be the first guests in my dungeon.”
“Are there spiders?” Catherine asked with evident horror.
“Bogles,” Catriona replied with crisp authority. Even Malcolm nigh believed her, she spoke with such conviction. “Every laird of sense keeps such goblins in his dungeons, for they like to torment liars and murderers.”
The girls squealed and clustered around her.
“Can we see it?” Mairi demanded.
“Of course. I shall let you visit it, the better for you to become acquainted with the bogles.” Malcolm shrugged. “Perhaps they are hungry. I confess that I have not fed them overwell as yet.”
“Nay!” Astrid and Catherine cried out, then the girls pledged to obey Malcolm’s command. He gestured to the great hall, bidding them to proceed before him.
“I shall be first to see inside the hall,” Mairi said, her voice rising in challenge, then she sprinted toward the portal. The others flew after her, shouting for her to wait.
Rafael came from the stables then, pausing to spare a glance to Catriona, then inclined his head to Malcolm. “They have chosen the fourth stall, which is empty.”
“If you please, send a boy to Kinfairlie,” Malcolm instructed. “Perhaps Alexander will lend some pallets to better ensure the comfort of our guests this night.” Especially as those guests were his own sister and family. Malcolm pursed his lips, trying to anticipate practical needs. “He might also loan us a few milk goats.” He glanced at Catriona and raised his brows, and she nodded grateful agreement.
“That would be most helpful, my lord.”
Rafael nodded and strode away, after one lingering glance at Catriona. She glared at him. Malcolm waited in silence, expecting her to follow the children, but instead, she turned and spoke to him.
&nb
sp; “I thank you, my lord,” she said, her hands knotted together in a way that hinted at some agitation. “I appreciate that you did not unveil my ruse to the girls, but you did not have to declare that you had seen the Fae yourself.”
Malcolm did not smile. “Who said yours was a ruse?”
She smiled coolly at him. “There are no Fae, sir. They are but the stuff of tales.” She lifted a brow. “You do not have to tell me that you have visited the Unseelie court to keep me from entering the ruins. I can well imagine that they are unstable.”
He held her gaze, wondering how much of the truth she saw, and found himself surprised that he did not wish to hide anything from her. “But if you do not believe in the Fae, then your tale was meant to deceive. Do you oft trick the children thus?”
Catriona’s color rose at his choice of words and Malcolm admired how well it suited her. She looked softer and more feminine with that flush upon her cheeks. “I see no harm in pretending a tale carries some truth when that will serve the greater good. They have been fascinated by the notion of the ruins since Ruari spoke of them. They are four and quick, my lord, and I would not have this visit marred by ill fortune. Surely you would not like to see any accident befall them.”
“I would not and believe your concern is well-placed. Though I think there may be more to this world than you acknowledge, Catriona, particularly at Ravensmuir.” He lingered over her name, letting his gaze linger on his. He saw the way she caught her breath, the flicker of her eyes before she set her lips with a determination that was becoming familiar. “Am I so terrifying as that?” he asked gently.
She took a deep breath and a step back. “I have known naught good of mercenaries, sir, and expect little better from warriors with power.”
“Indeed.”
She was wary, but she continued. “It seems that the strong are destined to prey upon the weak.”
“While I have always been taught that it is the responsibility of the strong to defend the weak.”
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