My Valiant Knight

by Hannah Howell

  “Ones like the Frasers and the MacFibhs.”

  “Aye, old and bloodthirsty enemies. Can you promise me that you will leave Kengarvey and go somewhere else for a time? You and Ronald?”

  She wanted to, if only because the urgency with which he made the request revealed that his feelings did indeed go deeper than lust alone. What he said distressed her deeply, yet a part of her was elated at this sign of emotion. He asked for such a simple thing, the assurance that when he attacked Kengarvey, he would not risk killing her or Ronald. He did not want their blood on his hands, even if he was forced to spill the blood of the rest of her family.

  There was no way she could promise him that, however. There were kinsmen who would take her in. She might even be able to impose upon her sisters. It was her father who could force her to break any promise she might make. There was no way to get out of Kengarvey without him knowing and, after she had just cost him so dearly, she doubted her father would ever let her out again. She would be fortunate not to find herself caged in the dungeons for the rest of her life.

  “I wish I could make that promise, but I canna,” she said quietly, her voice shaking, for she was on the verge of tears over her inability to give him the ease of mind he needed.

  “Why? Are you so enamored of your home that you would die for it? Or is this some strange, useless gesture of loyalty to your father? If so, then you could be throwing your life away for nothing, as he will neither live long enough or have heart enough to appreciate it.”

  “I ken it,” she snapped, resenting his speaking of things she would rather forget. “I dinna mean to stand and die for Kengarvey or my father. Even if there still existed some bond between us other than a few drops of like blood, I have ne’er believed in dying for naught save honor. If I am to die, I am sorry, but I wish it to be for far more than to have people say of me that I died with honor. I canna give ye the promise ye ask, for I canna be sure that I can keep it.”

  “There is no place you can flee to?”

  “Nay, there is a place or two, but I canna be sure I would be allowed to go there. I used to be allowed to come and go from Kengarvey as I pleased, as long as it was kenned where I was going. Howbeit, I feel certain that my being caught and taken for ransom has stolen away that freedom. I dinna believe my father will ever allow me out of the gates again, and escape from Kengarvey is nearly impossible.”

  Gabel cursed, sat up, and ran his hands through his hair. “Are you certain that escape would be so difficult?”

  “Verra certain. Do ye think no one has tried? Prisoners, despondent women, frightened servants, and even cowardly men-at-arms have all tried, and none survived the attempt except for one or two who were worth more alive than dead.”

  “Yet your father always seems to be able to escape when the battle turns against him.” Gabel’s eyes widened at the bitterness of the smile she gave him.

  “Of course he does. There is certainly a way out, a bolthole, but he and his sons are the only ones who ken where it is. He didna e’en tell my mother so that she could save herself or me. I could try to get the information from my brothers, but I hold out little hope of doing so, as they are terrified of my father. In truth, I think they ken that they would die if they told even me.”

  “God curse the man’s eyes,” Gabel muttered.

  “I can only promise ye one thing,” she said as she reached out to stroke his cheek. “I will promise ye that I will try. ’Tis all I can do. I will tell Ronald what ye have asked of me, and what I have sworn to, and he too will try.” She shrugged and gave him a sad smile. “I am sorry.”

  “You have naught to be sorry for. You are caught up in the quarrels of men and kings through no fault or crime of your own. I fear that, in our eagerness for battle and honor, we often give no thought to any but ourselves and our own grievances.”

  “ ’Tis the way of the world. I can also promise ye one more thing.”

  “And what is that? That your father will abide by the treaty and I need not worry o’er this?”

  “Nay, I fear that is in God’s hands, and I sometimes think He must be growing eager to send my father to the devil. Nay, I will promise ye that, if my father forces a battle and anything happens to me or the ones I care about, I willna blame you, Gabel de Amalville.”

  “ ’Tis small comfort.”

  “ ’Tis all I can offer.”

  “Nay, not all,” he said in a roughened voice as he pulled her down into his arms. “You can offer a way for both of us to forget what awaits us. ‘Twill be but a momentary blindness to the truth, but ’twill be a most sweet one,” he added as he kissed her.

  Thirteen

  Ainslee shivered as she stood in the bailey of Bellefleur waiting for Gabel to bring out the horses. It was cold, but she knew that was not what made her shiver. A deep chill had set into her heart from the moment she had opened her eyes and realized that she had to leave. For three days she and Gabel had spent every moment they could making love and trying not to think about her leaving. Time could not be halted to satisfy them, however, and the day they had fought so hard to forget had finally dawned. She felt as if her whole body was one tight knot as she struggled against the painful urge to weep and beg him to keep her. Pride did not stop her from doing so, as she was willing to sacrifice that if she could stay with him, but she knew it would change nothing.

  “Ainslee,” called a sweet voice, and there was a light tug upon her cloak.

  Taking a deep breath, Ainslee turned and smiled at Elaine. “ ’Tis quite early in the day for you to be about.”

  “I wished to say farewell to you,” Elaine said as she held out a small bundle.

  “And what is this?” Ainslee asked as she accepted it.

  “Two of the gowns you so liked.”

  “Nay, I canna take such a rich gift.” Ainslee tried to give the gift back, but Elaine just pushed it back into her hands.

  “You can and you will. We have more gowns than we need, and you looked far prettier in these than we ever did. My mother and I also wished you to have something to remember us by, for, although I wish it were not the way of it, I fear we may ne’er see each other again.”

  “Nay, I fear we may not,” Ainslee whispered, finding it difficult to speak over the lump in her throat. “I thank ye most kindly and I should like to thank your mother, but I dinna see her about.”

  “You will not see her either. My mother cannot abide saying farewell. She says she has said far too many in her life.”

  “I understand. E‘en when ye are certain that the ones leaving will return, ’tis still hard.”

  “Aye. I fear my mother’s reluctance arises from the fact that too many of the ones she has watched ride away ne’er rode back.” Elaine took a deep unsteady breath, then gave Ainslee a weak smile. “You have been the best prisoner we have ever had.”

  “And no one could ask for more gracious captors,” Ainslee replied, fighting to return Elaine’s smile.

  “There is one thing I would ask of you.”

  When Elaine hesitated and lightly chewed on her bottom lip, Ainslee urged, “Ask me what ye will.”

  “I mean no insult to you,” Elaine assured her, reaching out to pat Ainslee’s hands. “’Tis just that I have heard such troubling things about your father—”

  “And ye fear that matters may not go along as planned.” She touched Elaine’s blush-reddened cheek. “I take no insult. I ken what is said about my father, and accept that most of it is true.”

  “Will you watch out for Gabel and the others?” She glanced toward the men gathering in the bailey and preparing to ride out. “There are so many of my family amongst the men. If there is a betrayal or some treachery—”

  “Ye could lose most of your kinsmen. I will watch out for them, Elaine. I ken the tricks my father can play, and I have no intention of allowing him to succeed in any murderous game this time. Some might call me a traitor to my own blood, but, since my father has agreed to a treaty, I see no crime in at least
one of the MacNairns trying to hold to the bond.”

  “Thank you. I feel more at ease knowing that, and I am certain that my mother will as well. Good journey, Ainslee MacNairn,” she whispered, and kissed Ainslee on the cheek before hurrying away.

  Ainslee touched her cheek and watched the younger girl disappear into the keep. She would miss the kindness shown her at Bellefleur, the air of contentment of its people, and the feeling of safety which surrounded her. Compared to Bellefleur, Kengarvey was a dark, foreboding, and dangerous place. It was not just because she wanted to stay with Gabel that she dreaded going home.

  She straightened her shoulders and watched Gabel approach with the horses. In an effort to calm herself and ease the sorrow tearing her apart, she told herself that she would be accomplishing something her clan had needed for many years—peace. Although she had little faith in her father holding to the treaty for very long, she did not want Kengarvey’s chance of peace to be lost because she was too selfish to sacrifice anything in gaining it It proved to be a small comfort, giving her just enough strength to face Gabel with calm as he held out his hand. With a faint smile, she took it and swung up into the saddle behind him.

  “Ye mean to ride to the river on Malcolm?” she asked as she stroked her horse’s strong flank.

  “Aye,” replied Gabel as he led his men out of Bellefleur. “I would say I am sorry for taking your horse, but it seems as if I am saying I am sorry each and every hour. I will treat him well.”

  “I ken it. He will have a better life here. And I dinna believe I will have much need for a horse, so he will be given to my father or one of his men, and they will be cruel to him. Do ye mean to boldly show my father that ye are keeping the one thing he inquired about?”

  “I do. We ne‘er discussed the horse’s price, and I believe that, if he asks today, I will set it so high he would ne’er agree to it.”

  “He will be verra angry. Aye, enraged.” She frowned as she leaned against his back, resting her cheek against the soft thickness of his cloak. “I canna tell ye what my father will do if he is enraged.”

  “ ’Tis difficult to know what your father will do at any time.” He patted one of the small hands clutching at his waist. “Do not concern yourself. My men and I are prepared for most anything.”

  Ainslee prayed that that was not an idle boast, but she said no more. She had warned Gabel about her father, and she could not force him to heed her warning. All she could do was pray that, whatever treachery her father may have planned, it did not include some immediate threat to Gabel’s life or to any of his men. She tightened her grip on Gabel and closed her eyes, weary from their long night of lovemaking, and too despondent to continue any conversation.

  Gabel sighed as he felt her grow heavy against him. He was tired as well, but he needed to be alert, and his emotions were in such a turmoil, he doubted he could sleep anyway. The hardest thing he had ever done in his life had been to wake Ainslee this morning, knowing it was the last time she would lie in his arms. Duty forced him, but, like a coward, he had left her alone as quickly as possible, afraid of what he might do or say if he stayed another moment

  What truly angered and dismayed him, was that he could not be sure it would be all over when he reached the river and met with Duggan MacNairn That man could easily decide he did not like the terms he had agreed to or, worse, try some trick that would even put his own daughter in danger. If he could be sure that giving up Ainslee would solve the problems Duggan MacNairn caused, thus make the king happy, it might be an easier thing to do. At the moment, he could not know whether his sacrifice would gain him anything.

  “Ye have left the wee lass exhausted,” said Ronald as he rode up alongside Gabel.

  Gabel eyed the older man warily, not sure he completely believed in the man’s good humor or Ainslee’s assurances that Ronald would not fault him in any way for her place in his bed. “She is safe enough. If we need to ride hard or fast, I will place her before me.”

  “Aye, I ken that ye will look after her.”

  “I find your manner most confusing,” Gabel said, and he shook his head. “Are all Scots thus, or is it just you and Ainslee?”

  “ ’Tis Ainslee if ye are confused because I am nay crying out for your blood. Aye, ye could have been stronger and left the lass be, but I canna see that any harm has come of it She was happy. ’Tis all that matters to me.”

  “And she is not happy at Kengarvey?”

  “Nay, but she has ne‘er bemoaned her fate. She will survive. ’Tis why I raised her to be strong.”

  “Oh, she is strong, strong and willful and far too clever for a woman. It must cause her trouble with a father like Duggan MacNairn.”

  “Aye, it would, if I ever let the bastard get near her, but I do all I can to keep the two apart. He nearly killed her once, and I vowed that he would ne’er set hands on her again, not as long as I lived.”

  “She told me about that It appears that at least one of her brothers may have some good in him.”

  Ronald nodded. “Young Colin. He doesna have much to do with the lass, but he can be trusted to protect her. The other three arena as black of heart as their father, but they are terrified of him, and would ne’er act against him no matter how wrong they thought he was. Colin spent a few years at a monastery, got some learning from the monks, and that is what gives him the strength to step forward, although he does it rarely.”

  “He must have some wit, for he does it and survives and, from what I have been told, very few question what MacNairn does and live to tell of it.”

  “There is a black truth. Howbeit, Colin is a favored son and has a keen eye to his father’s moods. He kens how to stay alive.” Ronald reached out and adjusted Ainslee’s cloak so that it more fully covered her legs. “Ye need not fear for her. I have kept her well these many years and, God willing, I will continue to do so.”

  “Aye, but she has ne’er cost the mon before.”

  Gabel was not encouraged by the way Ronald just shrugged and rode away to rejoin Justice and Michael. He had wanted some assurance that Ainslee would not pay too dearly for what he had forced her father to do, but, just as Ainslee had refused to offer him false promises, Ronald simply refused to lie just to soothe him. Gabel prayed that, before he reached the river, some brilliant solution to the problem of gaining a treaty and keeping Ainslee safe would occur to him.

  Ainslee groaned softly as she was lifted from the saddle. She felt stiff and not as well rested as she thought she ought to be. As Gabel set her on her feet and turned to tend to his horse, she looked around and struggled to shake free of sleep’s fog. Her rest had been troubled by bad dreams. She could remember hearing Gabel’s deep voice as he spoke to her in soothing tones, so, she suspected that she had cried out at least once.

  Seeing Ronald sit down beneath a gnarled, leafless tree, she walked over to sit down next to him. Ronald had protected her for almost her whole life, and she hoped being near him would ease the lingering fear that left a sour taste in her mouth. It was going to be hard enough to return to her father, without going to him shaking in terror of some unknown dangers her frightened mind had conjured up.

  “Are ye sickening for something?” Ronald asked as he handed her a wineskin and she took a drink. “Beside that hulking great Norman, that is.”

  “Nay, I dinna believe I am falling ill,” she replied as she leaned against the knotted trunk of the tree and ignored his last remark. “I am just weary.”

  “Weary? Ye have slept away the whole of the morning.”

  “I ken it, and I find it most irritating that I am not weel rested. Howbeit, it was a troubled sleep filled with dark dreams and fear of what is to come.”

  “Mayhaps the dreams about your mother return because ye are drawing near to Kengarvey,” he said gently as he put his arm about her shoulders.

  “I didna dream about my mother. I dreamt about us, all of us here now. I dreamt of the river,” she said in a voice softened by the remembered horror of
the scenes in her mind.

  “From the pale look upon your face, I guess we werena having a verra good time.”

  “Oh, nay, we werena. Mayhaps ’tis just my mistrust of my father which causes me to see treachery and death.”

  “Two things your father has reveled in his whole black life. What did ye see, lassie?”

  “We were all there, the men of Bellefleur on one side and my kinsmen on the other. The river that flowed between us was neither gray nor blue, but red. Red with blood.”

  “And where were you?”

  “Standing in the very heart of it, watching it swirl about my knees and trying to stop its flow. ’Twas as if it flowed from me, yet I had no wounds.”

  “A verra dark dream indeed,” Ronald said, and shivered a little. “I pray ye havena become sighted, and that it is some omen.”

  “Ye canna pray for that any more than I do.”

  He kissed her cheek as he watched Gabel stride toward them. “Here comes your braw lover, lassie. Go with him. He may weel take that lingering darkness from your mind.”

  Ainslee allowed Gabel to draw her away from Ronald, but she doubted he could lift her spirits at all. Being with him only reminded her of how few hours they had left together. She smiled weakly at Justice when he handed them some bread, cheese, and wine, and then she followed Gabel as he led them to a secluded spot away from camp and the curious eyes of his men. He sat down on a mossy spot of ground beneath a large tree and tugged her down beside him.