Morcreig had been an outpost of the Mormaer for centuries, and Duncan was honored to command the keep. It had been razed to the ground in the recent turmoil, but the foundation stones were yet in place. More rocks had been brought from Inverness once the road had been secured and the main tower had been half-rebuilt by the time Duncan returned from Edinburgh. He was awed by what his ally Alexander could achieve when he put resources behind a task, and the Governor of Inverness was resolute that this frontier should be secured.
The wolves had retreated into the forests to the north, as had those few rebels who held Guthred’s memory dear. They were men of little merit in Duncan’s view, worse than mercenaries. They battled for the joy of violence and not out of any desire to see a reward. No matter where they landed, they would make trouble, but he had forced them to depart the area. He had led men on routing expeditions far to the north and west and believed such men to have fled to Ireland.
Those in favor of peace had flocked to Duncan’s banner, and a village had grown quickly around the stone tower. Duncan had himself aided in the building of walls and fences, in the thatching of roofs and the delineation of fields. Alexander had sent gifts of chickens and goats from Inverness and it seemed that each day brought more people to Duncan’s gates.
They were his people, the ones he remembered so well, the hardy folk with loyal hearts and strong hands, unafraid to labor to build their desire. He had brought scribes from the royal court to aid in the administration of the king’s justice, and he was glad he had watched Gaston so often in such matters of negotiation. Already he had secured alliances with three chieftains whose people lived within proximity and had sent word to the king of these successes.
A priest had accompanied him from Edinburgh as well and word had spread of that. More than one family came to Duncan’s gates in search of the sacraments. The chapel was small and humble, but the priest was vigilant in tending his flock. There were few tithes as yet, but the next year would be more affluent after crops were planted and harvested.
Duncan supervised all and was glad of his progress. He knew that Radegunde’s skills would be much welcomed, for there was no wise woman. She would be busy and purposeful, a perfect companion to secure their future. He yearned to see her again, to tell her all that had occurred, to show her their home. Alexander had vowed to send a man to govern in Duncan’s absence by October, lest all their gains should be lost while he fetched his lady.
Duncan would not be surprised if Guthred took advantage of his absence to set all awry again. His younger brother had surrendered the pin and sworn that he would follow Duncan, then had fled in the night, doubtless to a haven in Ireland. In truth, Duncan had anticipated his trick and let him do it, for he had no desire to kill his own kin.
Even though the gold and amethyst brooch adorned his own cloak, his brother might well return to challenge him. Duncan did not wish to betray the trust of those who had come to Morcreig for protection. He built a fortress to keep them safe.
The day of the anniversary of his handfast with Radegunde was fine, a crisp wind from the west heralding the approach of winter. Yet again, Duncan wished for Alexander’s man to arrive soon, for he was impatient to ride south to France and collect his beloved.
Had Radegunde waited for him? Aye, he knew she would keep her vow, unless compelled to do otherwise. Would Lady Ysmaine compel her to wed another once this day was passed?
It was a troubling thought. Duncan hoped his missive had reached Gaston and hated that there was little more he could do. He was impatient as seldom he was.
He was descending to the court when a cry came from the summit of the tower. “A party arrives from the north!” called the sentry.
Duncan climbed the tower to see for himself, shading his eyes against the light. He was not expecting Alexander Comyn and feared that some unwelcome tidings sent that man to his gates.
“A fair company, sir,” the sentry informed him.
Even at this distance, Duncan could see the lead horses were destriers. It was impossible to mistake their size and breadth. The first looked to be Alexander’s fine chestnut destrier, but the dapple destrier galloping alongside surprised Duncan. There were few destriers of such a hue locally.
Was it a woman riding on the palfrey alongside them both?
Surely it was not Lord Gaston and Lady Ysmaine who rode with Alexander?
Duncan dared to hope. Indeed, he clutched the parapet, trying to discern more details. The party carried no banners and he wondered that Gaston abandoned his colors.
If it was Lord Gaston.
He spied two more palfreys, both good animals, one on either side of the lead trio. Was the young man with dark hair Radegunde’s brother Michel? Did he dare to hope that the dark-haired woman was Radegunde herself?
The man who had to be Alexander gestured and the other men in the party fanned out, forming a protective circle around the company.
Duncan could not tear his gaze away from the dark-haired woman. His heart thundered. Could his wish come true this day? He could not imagine why Lord Gaston would come to Scotland, but the more he looked, the more convinced he became that the dapple destrier was as fine a steed as Fantôme.
Radegunde had come!
And Duncan knew what must be done.
“A wedding!” he cried to the men in the bailey below. “Summon the priest and ring the bell! On this day, we shall have a wedding and a feast. Morcreig will have a lady!”
Duncan glimpsed the sentry’s astonished expression, then leaped down the stairs, calling for arrangements even as he hastened to the gates.
His Radegunde had come!
* * *
Radegunde had had adventure aplenty this summer.
Their party had ridden to La Rochelle and sailed to England, to Plymouth and then Liverpool, the onward to Annan. From there, they had ridden north to Fergus’ abode. Radegunde had immediately become enamored of Duncan’s homeland with its wild beauty. It was easy to imagine him walking these hills.
She had been most glad to see Leila looking so well. Lord Fergus, it seemed, was more than happy to surrender the reliquary to Lord Gaston’s custody again.
Bartholomew and his wife Anna had met them at Killairic, and escorted them to his holding of Haynesdale. Radegunde liked Anna as much as she had when they had met in the winter, for Anna teased Bartholomew and was most audacious. She also could see that being Baron of Haynesdale suited Bartholomew well. He was most proud to show the holding to Lord Gaston, who made no effort to hide how impressed he was with his former squire’s accomplishments.
Lady Ysmaine and Lord Gaston had argued mightily there, as planned, and their party had left Haynesdale with Lord Gaston evidently furious and bent on seeing justice done.
They had journeyed north and east from there to Newcastle, where Lord Gaston had found passage for them on a ship bound to Inverness. He had kept their party small, so that they might not draw notice, and even though both Bartholomew and Fergus had offered to aid in this completion of the quest, Lord Gaston had refused. They were but four: Lady Ysmaine and Lord Gaston, Radegunde, and her brother Michel, who served Lord Gaston as squire on this journey.
This strategy was to ensure that all in the party could be trusted, but Radegunde appreciated Lord Gaston’s concern for her mother’s peace of mind. With Michel to provide a testimony of how and where Radegunde would be settled, Mathilde would be more at ease. She and Radegunde had spent considerable time together before Radegunde’s departure, for it was unclear when their paths would cross again.
The North Sea had been cold and gray, the wind making Radegunde appreciate that the land Duncan loved was both fierce and beautiful. Radegunde was well aware that many cast a disapproving glance at the party, for they thought little good of a noble couple who compelled a maid to journey so far when she was ripe with child—at least until Lord Gaston explained that he would ensure the man responsible treated her with honor.
The reliquary was heavy and oft t
ook the chill of the wind, so that Radegunde was more than prepared to be rid of its burden.
She supposed they had a fifth member to their company, the saint herself, and perhaps that was why winds were in their favor, the weather was comparatively fair, and they suffered no setbacks on their journey.
The Governor of Inverness, one Alexander Comyn and a most handsome knight, made them most welcome upon their arrival at his keep. He already knew Radegunde’s name, and had many tales of Duncan’s valor to share at the board, which warmed her heart. His admiration of Duncan knew no bounds and she was glad that Duncan had found such an excellent alliance.
She smiled to hear that Duncan wore the gold and amethyst pin and had made alliances to defend the future. He had assumed his birthright to ensure peace, as only he could do.
This was the measure of the man she loved.
The day of their departure from Inverness dawned crisp and clear. The sky was a vivid blue and the wind put a vigor in one’s step. They rode out without banners or insignia, a company of warriors guarding their flanks.
The governor escorted their party to Morcreig himself, explaining much about the land to Lord Gaston as they rode. Radegunde knew that Michel listened avidly, the better to share the details with their parents upon his return.
The Great Glen was astonishingly beautiful. Even from Duncan’s descriptions, Radegunde had never imagined a place could be so lovely. There was something about the sweep of the land, the emptiness of it, the stone and greenery and the endless sky, that made her heart sing. The tales she had heard by the hearth at Inverness made her fall in love with Duncan’s home, for they had a similar richness to the tales she knew from her own home. She wanted to speak the tongue of the Gaels, for she imagined that would only enrich her understanding and her admiration.
They would make a home together at Morcreig.
As they rode ever closer to the stone tower that perched in the midst of the massive valley, Radegunde’s heart began to race.
She scarce took note of the long glittering lake alongside the keep, though Lord Gaston admired how the tower perched on a promontory.
“From there, the entire valley can be observed,” he noted with satisfaction. “It is a most strategic site.” He pointed to the lake. “No matter how it is besieged, there will be water for the occupants.” He gestured to the land to the west, even as the governor directed his men to ride out and ensure that all was well. “And I would wager that he means to see much of this tilled. This will be a prosperous holding under Duncan’s management, to be sure.”
“I am glad to see it,” Lady Ysmaine said, sparing Radegunde a smile. “For your father’s title means that you should wed a man of some affluence. I am glad that Duncan had gained this holding, for now I can endorse the match.”
“And you would not endorse a match that makes Radegunde happy?” Lord Gaston teased.
“You know that alliance is of greater import in a match than love,” Lady Ysmaine said lightly. “And our match is the proof that love will take root in fertile ground.”
“As Radegunde’s is proof that the order may be reversed,” Lord Gaston replied mildly. He winked at Radegunde. “I have a few years to convince my lady of the merit of such thinking before Euphemia takes a husband.”
Radegunde smiled. Already that daughter had proven that she had a will of iron and a strong notion of her own desires. The babe remained with Lady Richildis while they undertook this journey, and Radegunde knew it was a measure of Lady Ysmaine’s regard for her that she had been parted from her first child for this interval.
Aye, Lady Ysmaine would see for herself that Radegunde’s future would be happy.
Radegunde surveyed the tower, knowing that several men stood at its summit, watching their party approach. Would Duncan welcome her? She was sure of it, but proximity made her fear that something might have changed.
Michel reached over and squeezed her hand, as if he guessed her thoughts. “It suits you, this place,” he said beneath his breath. “Both unpredictable and beautiful. No wonder Duncan is so smitten with you.” She smiled at her brother, for his thoughts had taken a romantic turn.
“You need not fear, Radegunde,” Lady Ysmaine advised her quietly. “If matters have changed and you do not wish to remain, you have only to confide as much in me and we shall escort you back to Châmont-sur-Maine.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Do not speak such nonsense, Ysmaine,” Lord Gaston chided. “I never met a man so steady and loyal as Duncan.”
“I would witness her happiness myself to be certain of it,” Lady Ysmaine protested. “Radegunde and I have endured much together. I could not bear it if she were not as happily wed as I am.”
The pair clasped hands for a moment, then, but Radegunde watched the gates ahead. They opened as their party drew near and a man in plaid strode through them, standing in the midst of the road with his hands on his hips. His stance was so familiar—never mind his fine legs—that Radegunde gave a cry of delight.
The Governor of Inverness grinned. “We bring you a guest who I think will be most welcome, Duncan,” he shouted.
“Duncan!” Radegunde cried. The sunlight glimmered upon his cloak, illuminating the brooch of gold and amethyst that signified his rank and birthright.
“Blood of my heart!” Duncan roared with such undisguised pleasure that Michel grinned. “I should have known that you would contrive a way for us to renew our vows this day!”
He strode to her palfrey even as the bell of a chapel began to ring most merrily.
“Never was there a woman more enterprising than my own lady,” Duncan told the governor, even as he laid his hand upon Radegunde’s knee. “And now I have a home to offer that is worthy of her.” His eyes fairly glowed as he looked up at her and Radegunde thought her heart might burst with joy. She blinked back tears as he reached to aid her from the saddle, his strong hands locking around her waist, and she saw the braid of her hair yet bound to his wrist.
She touched it with her fingertips and he smiled at her.
“Aye, and she arrives by your side in the nick of time,” the governor teased, indicating Radegunde’s belly. “Or was that your scheme to ensure she thought only of wedding you?”
Duncan’s gaze flicked downward then back to her eyes, a question in his own.
Of course, he knew that it could not be his child.
But he did not spurn her or chastise her. Nay, not Duncan. He awaited her explanation, trusting her.
Loving her.
Radegunde smiled, well aware of those who listened and watched. “Just as Lady Ysmaine at the Saint Bernard Pass,” she said lightly. “I fear it has become a hazard of this company.”
“And a most welcome one indeed.” Duncan laughed and lifted her down, then kissed her soundly. “Then you are come in good time,” he declared. The way he took her elbow might have been in keeping with the ruse, but the warmth of his welcome was utterly sincere. “Was the journey too much for you?”
“Of course not. Not with such reward as seeing you.”
“Blood of my heart,” he murmured, his voice husky. They kissed again, and as always, his kiss sent sweet heat through her veins.
When Duncan lifted his head, Radegunde leaned against his chest, more than content. She laid her hand over the thunder of his heart, so glad to be with him again. “It is so beautiful,” she whispered. “Even your descriptions did not do it justice. Will you teach me Gaelic?”
“Of course!” Duncan held her close as a bell began to ring.
“You have a chapel?” Lady Ysmaine asked.
“And a priest, more than prepared to witness the exchange of our vows.” Duncan grinned down at Radegunde. “Shall we go to the chapel first, then celebrate our reunion at the board?” he asked, taking a step back. His hands locked around her own. There was such resolve in his gaze, that Radegunde knew herself to be the most fortunate woman in all the world. “I would pledge to you before a priest, Radegunde, for now I h
ave more to offer my lady wife.”
“Aye, for I love you, Duncan.”
“And I love you, my Radegunde.” He smiled. “A year and a day is not sufficient to be sworn to each other. I would pledge to you for all the days and nights of my life.”
She smiled at him, “Aye, Duncan. Let our adventure begin.” She stretched to her toes and kissed him soundly, smiling as the surrounding company erupted in cheers.
It was here that Saint Euphemia would be secured, and Radegunde had no doubt that lady would bring good fortune to them for all time.
Author’s Note
Although many of the events in this series and this book did actually occur, I did take one liberty with Scottish history in Duncan’s story. Although it is true that Malcolm II had three daughters and married them strategically, much as described here by Duncan, he did not create three pins to give to those daughters. The brooches are entirely my invention. The inspiration for them was the Huntingdon brooch, a penannular brooch which you can see on the Pinterest page for The Crusader’s Handfast.
Donald MacWilliam was an historical figure who led rebellions by the Mormaer and was descended from one of Malcolm II’s daughters. The historical Donald had two sons, Adam and Guthred, both of whom participated in his efforts to claim the Scottish crown. I gave Donald a third son, a middle son named Duncan, who is entirely fictional. Donald and Adam died as described in this book, while Guthred retreated to Ireland after his father’s death. He led an unsuccessful uprising in 1204 and died then, which brought the MacWilliam line of the Mormaer to an end.
Some of you may have thought the name Mac Bethad sounded familiar and you’d be right—Shakespeare’s play Macbeth uses some of the details of Mac Bethad’s challenge to Malcolm II’s son King Duncan, but there are many discrepancies between the play and the historical record.
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