The Price of Freedom

by Carol Umberger

  “You should be busy with wedding preparations,” Bruce said.

  “We need to talk about that, Your Majesty.” Bruce nodded in acknowledgment. The men emptied their goblets and then they stood as Ceallach bid them goodbye and departed the tent, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

  Robert paused, studying Bryan’s face. “You are angry.”

  Angry and, if Bryan cared to admit it, confused. Even the long ride here and the discussion of the battle facing them hadn’t eased his conflict. “Why didn’t you offer Homelea to Douglas? Or Randolph?” he asked bluntly.

  “I have already made Randolph the Earl of Moray and have given him lordship of the Isle of Man. Douglas has his own lands and title.”

  “Why me, then?”

  “As I told you, I wish to reward a loyal and worthy retainer. You deserve the earldom, Bryan, and none would begrudge you.” Robert frowned. “You may have to rebuild before you can retire there in peace, but it is yours nonetheless.”

  Robert indicated the chairs next to a somewhat wobbly table. “Come, sit down and tell me what troubles you about becoming an earl.”

  Bryan returned to his seat, trying to formulate his objections to wedding Kathryn. The king poured himself a goblet of wine before suggesting, “Perhaps it’s the title of husband that doesn’t suit. Is she not comely?” Robert asked.

  Bryan groaned. If only she weren’t. “She is beautiful,” he admitted quietly.

  “Then she’s a shrew?” Robert jested.

  “She is more than a little stubborn, quite intelligent, and desperately in need of protection.” The truth was, he wanted her —wanted her in a way he’d never desired a woman before. His vow at Carrick might easily disappear on the wind unless he held tight to it.

  And then there was the vow he’d made in Homelea’s courtyard when he’d first set eyes on Kathryn. Kathryn, with Carleton’s mark still fresh upon her beautiful face. Did the second vow cancel the first? Of course not. He could certainly protect her from harm without relinquishing his heart.

  Couldn’t he? That was a very good question—one he wasn’t sure he could answer at the moment. Not with the vision of her standing toe to toe with him in defiance clouding his brain.

  “So, you care for her. It could be worse.”

  “She doesn’t want anything to do with someone so far beneath her station. Nor do I need to be bothered with the baggage of a wife,” Bryan declared.

  “Ah, her opinion must have stung. So you do care for her.”

  Bryan stood and paced. “If you’re asking do I want to . . . am I attracted to her, then yes, I care for her.”

  “Physical craving and caring are different.”

  “So you’ve told me.” Bryan studied his king. His father. The memory of that day in the hills of Carrick came back to him. The news of death and capture and his vow not to marry were all vivid in his mind. “What do you hear from the queen?”

  Bruce hesitated. “She fares as well as one might expect after eight years of captivity. She has little in the way of furniture or clothing.” Bruce hid his pain well but Bryan ached for him.

  “And the others?”

  Bruce said, “Mercifully they’ve been treated kindly enough since those bitter months spent in cages. Marjory,” he hesitated, drew a breath. “My daughter is at the nunnery at Walton. Her health is precarious.”

  Bryan stared at his hands a moment. “If you had it to do over again, knowing she would be taken from you, would you still have married Elizabeth?”

  Bryan saw the shadow pass over Robert’s face, and regretted the pain his question had caused. But Robert must be made to realize what he asked of Bryan in arranging this marriage. He did care for Lady Kathryn, far more than he wanted to admit. However, he wasn’t sure marriage to him was in her best interest, under the circumstances.

  The two men stared at each other, then Bruce answered Bryan’s question. “I’m glad I didn’t know then how it would all come to pass, because in truth, I might not have married Elizabeth and thus would have denied myself her love. But sometimes, the hope of seeing her again is all that keeps me going.”

  Bryan sat back down. He didn’t know how to respond to such a candid answer.

  Robert broke the uncomfortable silence. “Now, explain to me why you can’t marry a beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy woman. Surely your pride was not so wounded that you cannot get past it. Surely you can find a way to persuade the lady?”

  Bryan shook his head. “I’m a warrior. What have I to offer her?” He huffed. “I’ve sworn to safeguard her. Isn’t that enough?”

  Robert’s gaze was direct. “Perhaps. But the war can’t last forever, Bryan. When it is done, you will need a woman to come home to, somewhere to reside in peace to nurse your wounds and heal your soul.”

  Bryan sipped his water. “I could just as easily make a widow of her. Already Rodney Carleton has sworn to seek revenge for taking what he considers his.” He had never spoken of his vow. Now he must. “That day in the hills of Carrick, when Lady Christian came to us?”

  “I remember.”

  “You . . . I . . . ’twas the darkest moment of my life, my laird.”

  “And mine.” Bruce’s voice was somber.

  Bryan gripped the table until his knuckles turned white. “I vowed that day I would not marry until Scotland is free. I don’t know if I can face what you have endured and still go on.”

  Robert studied him before replying, “So that is why you’ve guarded your heart so closely.” He bowed his head and toyed with his wedding ring. “The woman finds your lack of noble lineage distasteful?”

  “So she says.”

  Robert rubbed his forehead above his brows, head bowed. When he looked up, he said, “I told you I have no regrets about marrying Elizabeth. But I am not proud of all my actions, Bryan. I have not always acted according to God’s will when it came to my . . . carnal appetites.”

  Bruce jerked to his feet and now he paced the confines of the tent. “Do you remember your mother, Bryan?”

  Shocked speechless, Bryan stammered, “Yes, of course.”

  “What do you know of her?”

  Bryan swallowed. “That she was gently born but impoverished and served in your father’s house.” There would have been no question of Robert marrying her—she was little more than a servant and could not bring wealth or a political alliance to Bruce’s powerful family. “Such relationships are not uncommon among the nobility.”

  “That doesn’t make them right.”

  “No. But you didn’t abandon her.” Or me. Many noblemen ignored their by-blows, but despite his youth, Bruce had accepted responsibility for Bryan’s welfare. Even when Bryan’s mother married William Mackintosh and moved to Moy, Bruce sent money.

  And when Bryan’s mother died, Bruce had sent for him, made him part of the Bruce household as Robert’s page. Robert himself had taught him to wield the claymore and battle-axe along with the other skills necessary to become a successful warrior.

  Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I didn’t abandon her. I cared for her just as I care, have always cared, for her son.”

  Bryan didn’t know what to say or where the conversation was leading.

  “I have regrets, Bryan. But loving Elizabeth isn’t one of them.” The king ceased pacing and sat back down in the chair facing Bryan, head bowed. “I regret that three of my four brothers have died in this struggle against England. I regret that I am nearly forty years old with my wife imprisoned.” Robert raised his head and looked at Bryan. “I regret Elizabeth and I have no son that I may acknowledge before the world as my rightful heir. Aye, that I regret deeply.”

  Bryan took his father’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You have been more than generous to me, my laird.”

  The king grasped Bryan’s fingers fleetingly and released them. “You don’t aspire to take my place on the throne?”

  “In truth, I’ve considered what it might be like.”

  “But?
”

  “If you were to name me as your heir, or even simply acknowledge me, it would just create more instability and strife. Our current woes came about as a result of controversy over who should rule. Your brother Edward would rightly contest me. And you may yet have a son with your wife, my laird. I must consider what is best for Scotland.”

  Bruce nodded in approval. “Well said. Then you are content that our relationship remain unspoken?”

  “It is enough to have had this conversation with you. To be silently acknowledged by your family, as I always have been.”

  The king smiled. “I am very pleased with the man you’ve become, Bryan. And while I may take some credit for it, ’tis your heart that has always been true. Please accept the earldom as a small measure of my esteem for you.”

  “As you wish.” They sat in companionable silence. “But what of the woman?”

  After a pause, the king said, “I’m sorry to ask you to go against a solemn pledge, but it is my wish that you wed the countess.” Robert fiddled with his wineglass, staring at the table. “When the shipment has passed safely across the river Tweed, you will desert Homelea and go to Stirling to prepare for battle.”

  “You will leave Homelea defenseless.”

  “I cannot spare the men or arms, Bryan. If you wish to keep Lady Kathryn safe, you will have to take her with you. Either that, or leave her there for Edward.”

  “Edward and Rodney. What a tangle this turned out to be.”

  “Bryan, I’m sorry. Lady Kathryn must either be protected or abandoned. Shall I look elsewhere for a husband for her?”

  No other man shall have her. She is mine. Surprised by the intensity of his reaction, and troubled by the impossible situation he was being forced into, Bryan willed his face to mask his feelings.

  “No, Your Majesty. I will do as you ask.”

  “Bryan, I can coerce you into marriage, but no one can force you to engage your emotions. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Aye.” A marriage of convenience—a chaste union until such time as he could give his heart freely. What Robert suggested allowed Bryan to keep both vows—he could protect Kathryn while remaining emotionally detached.

  “I have sworn to protect her. If my name is needed as well as my sword, so be it.”

  But how will I protect my heart?

  SIX

  THE CONFRONTATION IN THE STABLE had frightened Kathryn. Sir Bryan’s size and strength spoke more eloquently than even his words. He could take what he wanted—indeed he would take what he wanted. She had been warned.

  In despair, she sought out Fergus. Kathryn found him with Lachlan the Smith, who was trimming the hooves on one of the donkeys used to pull the wool carts to market. Lachlan’s sullen expression and the donkey’s loud braying did little to improve Kathryn’s spirits. But Fergus’s face lit up when he spied Kathryn, making her feel welcome and special as he always did. With a nod toward the noisy donkey he said, “Come, let us find a quieter spot.”

  They walked toward the keep’s entrance, and Fergus guided them toward Homelea’s chapel, a small room on the second floor of the keep. The altar stood on the eastern wall, and soft morning light filtered through the stained glass window behind it, creating a rainbow on the polished stone floor.

  The room was plain and simple, the only adornment being the embroidered cloth and a pair of pewter candlesticks on the altar. Homelea had no priest in residence since Father Munro’s death six months ago. Services were held sporadically, whenever a traveling priest showed up. But castle residents came to the chapel each morning for prayers before breaking their fast.

  Although they had no priest, Homelea’s chapel did boast two rows of wooden benches, and Kathryn sat down on one of them. Fergus joined her and Kathryn asked, “What ails Lachlan? Seems he’s in a sour mood every time I see him lately.”

  “Lachlan isn’t happy with the amount of time his wife spends as a nursemaid at the abbey.”

  Alarmed by this revelation, she said, “Nelda has never mentioned anything to me. She seems content to earn extra coin this way, although she did ask why I’d taken such an interest in a foundling child.”

  “Was she satisfied with yer explanation?”

  “Aye, I think so.” No one had questioned her desire to retreat to St. Mary’s after that disastrous confrontation with Rodney. Indeed, she’d gone there before she’d had any idea she carried his child and had simply remained in seclusion. Her heart and soul had truly been shaken and she’d used the time to right herself with God while she awaited Isobel’s birth.

  Fergus nodded. “How soon can Isobel be weaned?”

  Although it was hard to believe so much time had passed, Isobel’s first birthday was next week. Kathryn returned her thoughts to Fergus’s question. “Isobel could drink from a cup if she had to.”

  “It might be wise to release Nelda from her duties as soon as ye can, then.”

  “Sir Bryan said I could go to the abbey in a few days.” Remembering their confrontation, she said, “Unless he changes his mind.”

  “Is that all that’s troubling ye this morning? Isobel?”

  “No. I have been unwise.” She stood and paced the short distance across the room and back and as she did, she confessed to Fergus her conversation with the knight about their potential wedding, her dismissal, and his anger.

  “Ye insulted him, Kathryn. Of course he’d be angry. Lucky for ye he is a man who can control his emotions.”

  “Oh, he’s very good at that. Anger is the only emotion I’ve seen him feel since he came here.”

  Fergus looked at her acutely. “Then ye don’t watch him closely enough.”

  “Why would I watch him at all? Nothing he does interests me.”

  Fergus smiled and quickly hid it. “But ye’ve seen him with the dogs and now with his horse, haven’t ye?”

  She didn’t care to answer; to do so she might have to admit that, yes, she had observed the knight and her observations unsettled her.

  “There is more to the Black Knight than meets the eye, Kathryn.”

  “You are quick to defend him.”

  “Aye, he has treated me as a man, not an injured pet.”

  “How can you say such a thing?”

  He stood up and faced her. “It’s true, though I’m sorry to phrase it so bluntly.”

  She stared at him, controlling her irritation at his accusation. Finally, realizing he was right, she said, “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Fergus. ’Twas not my intent.” She sighed. “We aren’t children anymore, are we?”

  “No, those days are behind us, Kat. And we must also accept the fact that our country is at war. Homelea has been spared until now, but we’re going to have to do our part if Scotland is to defeat her enemy.”

  “You won’t fight, will you? Please, tell me that you won’t!” Her strident voice echoed in the small room.

  He took her hands in his. “I may have no choice, Kathryn.”

  “But I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt again.”

  “Perhaps it will ease ye to know that I’ll be better prepared next time. Adam is teaching me sword play.” He moved away from her, left arm held up behind his head, right arm swishing an imaginary sword in the air between them. “Did ye know he was wounded at Dalry Pass?” He parried and stepped neatly aside, apparently dodging his opponent’s thrust.

  Kathryn hid a smile behind her hand.

  “Nearly died. And he thought he’d never fight again but he learned new strategies. He’s teaching me how to make up for my lack of vision—I may never be a great swordsman but,” he stabbed at her playfully, “he thinks I can become adept despite my injury. He’s even teaching me how to use that to my advantage!” He crossed his chest with his imaginary weapon and bowed to her.

  Kathryn clapped her hands and chuckled. “Well done!” She looked at him with new understanding. “You are happy, Fergus. For the first time since Rodney’s blow to your eye, you are happy.” She stood and hugged him. “I di
dn’t realize how difficult it must have been to be unsure if you could defend yourself.”

  He sat down again and pulled her down beside him, taking her hand in his. “And ye, sister of my heart. To be helpless when ye need protection, it tears at me. But no more. Thanks to Adam and the Black Knight.”

  “Ah, we are back to him.” She pulled her hands away from Fergus.

  “I saw him leave Homelea in haste.”

  “I told you he was very angry with me. Which is just as well. He should have no trouble persuading the king to free us from this marriage neither of us wants.”

  Fergus looked thoughtful.

  She didn’t like what Fergus wasn’t saying. “What? You think it is only I? I can assure you Sir Bryan is just as unhappy with the situation.”

  “Perhaps so.” They sat in silence, the distant noises of the castle folk bustling about their work muffled by the stone walls. “Have ye prayed on this?”

  Kathryn twisted her hands in her lap. “I fear the Lord isn’t listening.”

  “God always listens, Kat. Perhaps ye just can’t hear the answer.”

  “More likely I don’t like the answer I hear.”

  “Even if Bruce doesn’t insist on the marriage, I sincerely doubt he’ll take the earldom from Sir Bryan. Have ye thought of that?”

  Kathryn rose to her feet and paced in agitation. “You are saying I have no real choice if I want to keep Homelea.”

  “Aye.”

  She stopped pacing as an idea came to her. “There is one possibility. I could send a messenger to Cousin Richard. Perhaps he could intercede on my behalf.”

  “If I’d thought he could help I’d have suggested him when the knight was pounding at the gate. But Richard is not in favor with Bruce,” Fergus reminded her.

  “Perhaps they’ve come to an agreement. Then Bruce might allow Richard to be my protector,” she said in desperation.

  “Not very likely.”

  She frowned.

  “Aye, it’s worth a try if ye are truly so set against marrying Sir Bryan.”

  “I am. Oh, Fergus. Why are women treated like chattel, as if we have no feelings or . . . or the intelligence to handle our own affairs? Doesn’t the Bible say we are all equal in Christ?”