The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance

by Claire Delacroix

  She made to step past him, her heart thumping, but Fergus laid a hand upon her arm. “Is it bad news?”

  Leila shook her head. “My uncle apologizes and invites me home.”

  She felt Fergus stiffen. “Home,” he echoed and Leila nodded.

  She had no words and it appeared Fergus had none either. She eased from beneath the weight of his hand, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She would not make this difficult for him. He had been kind. “I would speak to Karayan and learn what has changed,” she said, and continued to the hall.

  Fergus did not pursue her, though she felt his gaze upon her.

  Well aware that Fergus’ father was watching her progress, she went to sit beside Karayan.

  He smiled at her, his gaze searching. “The news is good?”

  “You did not read it?”

  “It was forbidden for me to do so. I gave my pledge.”

  Leila placed her hand over his and smiled. “You are a good man, Karayan. Thank you for undertaking this journey. It must have been long and difficult.”

  He shrugged. “You are here yourself, so you know how long it is.” Again, he surveyed her and she knew he would ask her a question.

  “It is almost a year since I left Jerusalem,” Leila said, speaking before Karayan could. “Tell me what has happened there.”

  He exhaled and sat back, drumming his fingers on the board as he thought. “So much,” he murmured. “I am not certain where to begin.”

  “Jerusalem was besieged,” Leila suggested and that proved to be all the encouragement Karayan needed.

  * * *

  Fergus did not know what to do.

  He did not want to interfere, but he itched to know what message had been brought to Leila from Outremer. He was fiercely jealous that she sat with Karayan and spoke with him, that they were apparently oblivious to everyone else in the hall. Her laughter and the quick sound of her Arabic made him realize how much she had left behind, how much she had surrendered in handfasting to him.

  Too much? Fergus suspected it might be so.

  He sat with his father, but did not hear his father’s words. He ate, but did not taste his meal. He consulted with those who came to seek his advice—about the harvest, about the pasturage, about the courts, about the next day’s meal—but could not have told anyone what matters had been discussed by the time they were all gone. He sipped his ale, but did not taste it, and watched Leila with a hunger he had not realized he possessed.

  “Tell her,” his father advised softly, when Leila took her leave of the messenger. She stood and the messenger dropped to one knee, and Fergus loved how delicate and beautiful she was. “He leaves in the morning,” Calum continued. “Should you not ensure that you have made every possible argument in your own favor?”

  “I would have her make the choice that will guarantee her own happiness.”

  Calum lifted a brow. “I think what you have not yet told her might affect the outcome.”

  “How do you know what I have not yet told her?”

  His father smiled. “She hesitates, though I would wager that she is by nature decisive. This indicates that she hopes rather than knows, and there is only one detail that might change all if she knew.” He nodded. “I wonder if she is with child.”

  Fergus knew his surprise showed.

  “It changes much,” Calum said sagely. “Your mother was more inclined to weep when she was with child than was otherwise her nature. Perhaps Leila is more inclined to doubt than is her usual manner.”

  “Doubt? But what can she doubt?”

  “What she does not know, of course. The future.” Calum gave Fergus a fierce look. “Tell her, while you can.”

  “And if you are wrong?”

  “She will leave anyway, and you will never see her again. If I am wrong, you will have risked very little in the end.” He nodded. “If I am right and you do not take my advice, you will have lost all when you could have claimed it.”

  Fergus rose at that warning and strode to Leila’s side, touching her elbow with his fingertips. She looked up at him, her dark eyes full of questions, and he smiled despite the turmoil inside himself. “I know you make a choice,” he said, his voice husky. “And I would not impede that.” He swallowed. “But there is one detail I would tell you before you choose.”

  “Only one?” she asked and he nodded.

  “There is only one detail of import that I have not confessed to you.” He gestured. “Will you walk in the garden with me?”

  Leila nodded and preceded him, her quick pace making him wonder if she wanted to see his impulse set to rest and forgotten. They reached the garden and the air was sweet with the scent of ripening fruit. The rain was more like a mist, though Leila did not seem to mind. They walked toward the finished dovecote, and the cooing of the birds within could be heard.

  She did not prompt him, which Fergus refused to take as a bad sign. “You said your uncle invited you back to Jerusalem,” he said.

  “Aye.”

  “And you called it home.”

  She glanced up at him, then averted her gaze.

  “I had hoped that Killairic might become your home.”

  “Did you?” her voice was as soft as a whisper, but he heard the tremor in her words.

  “If returning to Jerusalem is your desire, I will not impede your departure, not with the escort of this man you clearly know.” Fergus lowered his voice. “Though I offered before to take you there.”

  “You could not truly have meant it, though it was kindly offered,” she said. “You were betrothed to Isobel then.”

  “Who showed the worth of her pledge clearly enough.” Fergus pushed a hand through his hair and frowned. “You trust this man?”

  “Karayan is a Rūm who has served my uncle for as long as I can remember. He is a servant but has lived with the family so long that he might be part of it.”

  “Ah! The one who Iain reminded you of,” Fergus guessed and she nodded.

  “He is a good man, a loyal man, and if I journeyed with him, he would defend me with his life.”

  “And will you?”

  “I am not certain.”

  “You must miss your cousin.”

  “I do.” Leila smiled sadly. “I would like to eat olives and figs again. I would like to see my cousin’s son. I would love to sit with Aziza and talk, about everything and nothing.” She fell silent and frowned.

  “But?”

  “But once there, I will miss here. I love the bounty of Scotland, and the beauty of Killairic. I like the mist in the wind and the brilliant green of the hills. I would miss the view from the solar window if I could not open a shutter and see it again.” She raised a hand. “I would miss this garden, and the smithy, and the chance to see my pigeons raise their chicks.”

  “But you cannot have both.”

  She shook her head and a tear loosed itself. It fell sparkling and was lost on the ground. “Nay. And in the absence of the one thing that would make either place a home, I am compelled to choose, though neither place will suffice.”

  “What one thing?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes glowing. “There is only one thing that makes any place a home, Fergus. Killairic is your home because you love it so, because you love your father, because it has claimed a piece of your heart.”

  “And Jerusalem is not thus for you?”

  She shook her head. “It does not hold my heart.” She swallowed. “No one there does, and I know that no one there ever will.”

  “How can you know such a thing? Can you see the future?”

  Leila laughed a little, making a sound beneath her breath. “I do not need to see the future to know that my heart is already claimed, that it has been claimed for a long time. The question is what do I do since my regard is not returned? Do I stay in one place, with the person who holds my heart but does not love me? Or do I return to another place, only to be denied even a glimpse of him? Which is kinder? Which is crueler?”

 
Who was the person? Fergus wanted to know but could not bring himself to ask. Surely not Murdoch? “Which will make you happy?” he asked instead.

  “Neither,” she said with finality. “And so I wonder if it matters where I am. I might as well be useful if I cannot be happy. My cousin is married and has a son. My uncle is a widower, with no one to keep his house. My cousin does this now, but if she has more children, perhaps I would be of more assistance there.”

  She wandered away from him, sadness in the droop of her shoulders, and he could not bear to see her so unhappy. “Perhaps we have more in common than I had realized, Fergus. Perhaps you, too, are denied the company of your beloved.”

  “I will be, if you return to Outremer,” he dared to say.

  Leila spun to face him, her eyes wide. He saw a welcome spark of hope in her eyes and dared to be encouraged. “How so? You love Isobel. She has died with your heart in her possession as surely as Duncan’s wife died with his.”

  Fergus shook his head. “I thought I loved Isobel. I was convinced of it for four years, but in truth, I loved the notion of Isobel. In my dreams, she changed to become a woman I admired much more in memory than in truth.”

  “But you cried out her name in your sleep.”

  “When I dreamed that she cost me Killairic.”

  Leila folded her arms across her chest. “You shelter her son as if he is your own. She said he was your own.”

  Fergus shook his head. “And I told you that it could not be so. The boy must be raised by someone and there is no one at Dunnisbrae any more. I have asked Murdoch to seek out Isobel and Stewart’s kin at Iona. When he returns, I hope he brings news that one of them will take the boy.”

  “You did not tell me this.”

  Fergus arched a brow. “You have not been conferring with me.”

  Leila blushed and dropped her gaze.

  “And when I tried to speak with you, you kept our conversations short and formal.” Fergus took a step toward her. “I feared these past weeks that Isobel had cost me something of greater import than Killairic.” He took a deep breath when Leila did not reply. “I feared that Isobel had destroyed any chance of you loving me.”

  “Impossible!” Leila said, her eyes flashing with welcome and familiar vigor. “She could never have done as much, no matter how many lies she told me.”

  Fergus smiled in his relief, then took Leila’s hand within his own. “I love you, Leila. Will you stay at Killairic and exchange wedding vows with me before a priest? I would have you be my legal wife, for what God has put together, no man shall put asunder.”

  Her features lit with a joy he could not mistake. “Fergus!” Leila cried and he caught her in a tight embrace. She stretched up and kissed him with the passion he had missed.

  “You have not given a reply,” he teased and she laughed at him. “Is it because you do not wish to be baptized?”

  “I will be baptized and I will wed you,” she said with resolve. “I will gladly be your wife, Fergus. If you love me, that is all the reason I need to stay. Killairic will be my home in truth.”

  He kissed her with satisfaction, loving how she surrendered to his touch with such enthusiasm. It began to rain with greater vigor, though Fergus chose to ignore it for the pleasure of his lady’s kiss. When they parted, breathless, he sheltered her from the rain as they returned to the keep, then stared down into her shining eyes.

  “I thought when you decided not to go to Iona, that you did not want me to be baptized,” she said.

  “I did not want you to be compelled to take a long journey after Stewart’s abuse. I thought you needed to rest.”

  Her answering smile was glorious. “It is too bad, though, as your father said Iona was a good place to be baptized.”

  “But it would be more fitting for you to be baptized here,” Fergus replied. “What of the morrow? We can visit the reliquary and have the blessing of Saint Euphemia upon our match.”

  “You would reveal it?”

  “Nay, I would not invite attention. Perhaps we shall have a blessing of the grain on the morrow.”

  Leila laughed.

  “But the fact is that Karayan followed me to Gaston’s abode and thence to here,” Fergus noted. “That means any other soul might do the same. We will undertake the blessing of the reliquary, then a more secure home must be found for it.”

  “But where?”

  Fergus smiled. “If the reliquary is to be hidden longer than it has been thus far, I have an idea. I will send a missive to Gaston with Karayan and seek his counsel.”

  “What idea is this?”

  “Do you recall how Lady Ysmaine hid the relic on our journey?”

  “Of course!”

  “I have not yet had word from Duncan, but it seems that if Radegunde is to join him on the anniversary of their handfast, she might do the same.”

  Leila’s eyes lit. “She would be glad to do as much. I know it well.”

  “And it would be safe wherever they make their abode, for none spoke of Duncan as a member of the party.”

  “That is most clever,” Leila said and granted him another kiss. “You mean to teach me the price of having no discussion with you,” she teased. “You tell me so many interesting things this day.”

  Fergus put a fingertip on her lips. “Aye, and there is more.”

  Leila laughed. “What else do you scheme?”

  “Solely to ensure the happiness of my lady wife.”

  “I believe you have done as much.”

  “Not to my own satisfaction. I have a suggestion for you, one that Karayan can take back to the east.”

  Leila regarded him, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What manner of suggestion?”

  “What if we were to make an arrangement with your cousin and her husband, to meet them at a designated time and place?”

  “When and where?”

  “Some city where Franj and Saracen can meet, between here and Jerusalem.”

  “Venice, perhaps, or Constantinople,” Leila suggested, her excitement clear. “But she has a young son. She cannot leave him, and she will not.”

  “I hope that soon we will have a young son, as well.”

  Leila flushed in a most becoming way. “I am not sure,” she confessed softly and Fergus wanted to lift her in his arms and protect her from every breath of wind.

  “Truly?”

  “I missed my courses once,” she whispered. “But then Stewart struck me in the belly.” Anger thrummed through Fergus at the import of the other man’s choice. Leila’s brow puckered. “I know so little of these matters and have no one to ask...”

  “Then I shall add to that missive to Gaston and ensure that Radegunde visits here with all haste.”

  Leila smiled at him. “Thank you.” She ran her hand over his chest. “I hope there will be more than one son, Fergus.”

  “As do I. We could choose a date, perhaps ten years from now, and we agree that we shall be at the selected city, all of us. You could see Aziza and talk to her to your heart’s content and share your tidings.”

  “Fergus! I would be so glad of such a chance!” Leila bit her lip. “Do you truly think it could be done?”

  “Any deed can be done if people have sufficient desire to do it.” Fergus watched her, knowing he would move the stars and the moon to see her happy. A journey to the east was a small effort in comparison. He had only to look at the resolve she had shown in making a new life for herself.

  “And you would make this journey for me?”

  “I could do no less,” he said, smiling down at her. “I told you before that I would take you east at your request.”

  “And so you did. I like this scheme better, to travel together and both return to Killairic.”

  “You have surrendered all that you know to be with me, Leila. I will surrender anything to see you happy.” He caught her close once more. “I would even have let you ride away with Karayan, never to see you again, if it would have given you joy.”

  �
�Fergus! I can only truly be happy with you.”

  He found her in his embrace again, a situation that suited him very well. “And I can only be happy with you, though it need not be at Killairic.”

  “Of course, we must be here,” Leila chided, her eyes dancing. “I cannot imagine a place more perfect.”

  “And I cannot imagine a wife more perfect,” Fergus concluding, capturing her lips beneath his own once more. His heart thundered when she rose to her toes and returned his kiss with the enticing heat he had long associated with her.

  He had nearly lost the prize of his heart, but Fergus would never put it at risk again.

  Friday, August 26, 1188

  Feast Day of Saint Zephryinus & Saint Bregwin of Canterbury

  17

  “They arrive!” Leila cried when she spied the party approaching Killairic. She had remained in the solar that morning, simply to watch the road. “Fergus, they arrive!” she called again from the top of the stairs. She managed to take only three before he was before her, having run up the stairs from the foyer.

  “Do not rush on the stairs,” he said sternly, then swept her into his arms to carry her down to the great hall.

  “You fuss too much,” she chided him.

  “We shall ask Radegunde about that,” he replied, then gave her a quick kiss. Leila had not bled once since arriving at Killairic. Her belly was rounding so that more than Margaret noticed the change—that woman had commented upon the change when fitting Leila’s new red kirtle with its fine embroidery. Leila felt like a queen when she wore it and she felt hale with the child. Calum was delighted by the promise of a baby, but Leila wanted Radegunde’s conclusions before she would be at ease.

  There had been much activity at Killairic over the summer. A distant cousin of Isobel’s had returned from Iona with Murdoch and had taken Gavin back to the isles to be raised with his kin. Their family had a number of children and Gavin had been pleased to go with his relation. Gavin had learned a great deal while helping the miller which impressed his relation, too. The harvest was in and it was bountiful. Killairic did indeed seem like a paradise as well as a home.