The Promise of Peace

by Carol Umberger

  “I suppose we’ll have to look for them. They aren’t still abed— Keifer’s spot by the fireplace and Nola’s bed were empty.”

  “I worry about them,” Gwenyth said.

  “Attending chapel faithfully is but one way of worship,” Adam reminded her.

  “Perhaps for an adult. But children must learn the discipline— and rewards—of regular prayer.”

  Adam nodded. “Where should we begin our search? And what will you do when you find them?”

  Just then Nola’s head peeked around the doorway leading into the hall. Just as quickly it disappeared.

  Gwenyth strode forward. There stood Keifer and Nola, both soaking wet and each carrying a stringer of fish.

  “Was it necessary to miss chapel?” she demanded.

  Keifer looked at her with disdain, as if she couldn’t be expected to understand. “Fish bite best early in the morning.”

  The boy’s defiance would have to be dealt with, but Gwenyth chose to fight one battle at a time. “Surely they would wait a quarter hour until you’d been to chapel?”

  Neither child had an answer to that.

  Adam said, “How did you catch them—bare handed?”

  “Nola fell in and I had to pull her out.” Again that strain of defiance in his voice. Gwenyth would have to speak to Adam about the boy’s uncooperative disposition. “I could have gotten out by myself.”

  Nola flicked water from her clothing, and Keifer got her back by flinging his wet hair.

  Drops of water sprinkled Gwenyth’s face. “Enough. Go and get dry clothes.”

  Apparently her voice conveyed her displeasure, because the two left without further argument.

  Gwenyth watched after them. “Have you noticed Keifer’s bearing of late?”

  “Aye. He’s pushing to see how far he can go. Seamus has mentioned it, and he and I will deal with it. Let me know if Keifer becomes disrespectful. ’Tis something boys do, Gwenyth. A firm hand will guide him through it.”

  “They both need a firm hand. Neither he nor Nola seems to take their faith, nor us, seriously.”

  “Aye.” As they walked toward the main hall, Adam continued, “I am surprised Keifer continues to put up with a child so much younger.”

  “She’s closest in age to him. Why wouldn’t they strike a friendship?”

  “Because she’s a girl, perhaps?” He stopped and turned to her. “Have you given any thought to the future should they move past friendship when they are older?”

  Gwenyth halted as well. “Part of me doesn’t want to worry so far ahead. But I suppose we should be prepared. Would such an alliance be acceptable?” Gwenyth asked.

  Adam said, “It’s acceptable, but I had thought that Nola might marry a Macpherson to strengthen those ties.”

  “Well, time enough to worry about it later. For now I must go see that they don’t catch their deaths from their adventure.”

  AFTER CHANGING HIS CLOTHES and downing a bowl of porridge, Keifer hurried to the lists. He looked forward to the effort of training to ward off the chill he’d taken in the creek. Keifer enjoyed working with Seamus but sometimes his demands seemed pointless. Still, Keifer did his best to arrive on time and learn what Seamus had to teach him, harboring the hope that someday he would become a knight.

  Seamus stood by an outcropping of the courtyard’s stone wall. A variety of weapons lay there, including the sword that had belonged to Keifer’s father. But Keifer did not have permission to fight with it yet. Another promise for the future—that when he’d earned the right, he would be allowed to carry his father’s sword.

  Keifer walked over to Seamus, who said, “Good day, Keifer. Are you ready to work?”

  Picking up his sheathed weapon, Keifer replied, “Aye.”

  “You will have an opportunity to show our laird what you have learned this week.” Seamus lifted his chin and pointed across the bailey.

  Sir Adam strode toward them, a scowl on his usually smiling face. That did not bode well, and Keifer had his first inclination that the laird’s presence had some meaning beyond simply watching.

  After a curt “Good morrow,” Adam stood directly in front of Keifer and said, “Let me see your sword.”

  Keifer’s heart pounded. The sword had not been cleaned in several days. He glanced to Seamus, whose expression gave no hint of what to expect. Dreading the laird’s reaction, Keifer took the weapon from its scabbard.

  Hands held out, Adam demanded, “Give it to me.”

  Why was the laird making such a fuss? Keifer handed it to him, wondering what the point was.

  Adam examined the weapon, turning it over and back. “Needs cleaning.”

  Keifer stared at the dirty blade.

  “Well, have you nothing to say?” Sir Adam asked.

  Keifer dared not lie—he’d already learned the hard way that Sir Adam’s punishment for such an infraction was a whipping. And even though the stripes had stung his pride more than his bottom, he did not care for a repeat of the episode. “Aye, my laird, ’tis dirty.”

  Seamus said, “I told you to clean it when we were finished yesterday. Didn’t I?”

  Sullenly Keifer replied, “Aye.”

  Seamus and Adam exchanged a glance. They treated him like a babe.

  Adam said, “ ’Tis Seamus’s job to train you, Keifer. ’Tis your job to obey him as you would me. Do you understand?”

  “Aye.” He understood his role well, yet he couldn’t seem to overcome his need to resist. He’d spoken with the priest about his willfulness, and the man had suggested that Keifer pray for strength from the Holy Ghost. Keifer prayed daily for such strength but so far found it lacking.

  “Good. When you are finished with your lesson, you will clean all the weapons in the armory as well as your own.”

  “Aye, my laird.”

  “Now I will watch your lesson—I hope you are not as sloppy in your fighting as you are in preparing to fight.”

  Adam nodded to Seamus before standing to the side.

  Angry as well as nervous, Keifer moved into position. Seamus instructed him as to what they would practice first. The lesson began. They worked on several different moves as Seamus explained yet again the advantages and disadvantages of size, quickness, and stamina. “You must learn to recognize your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses as well as your own. Watch the weapon, not the body. Body movement may prove false—the weapon is the key.”

  After a time, Keifer’s arm ached. He parried a thrust and blindly attacked, not striving for form, only wishing for the bout to end.

  Seamus deflected the blow with ease and called a halt. “There, Keifer. That is the longest bout you have managed yet. Well done.”

  Adam walked over to them and put his hand on Keifer’s shoulder. “Well done indeed, lad. I am pleased with what I see.”

  Keifer leaned on his sword, drawing in gulps of air. His arms felt like stones and his legs trembled, but it was worth it to receive such a compliment.

  Seamus ruffled Keifer’s sweaty hair. “You will make a fine warrior yet.”

  Adam withdrew his hand from Keifer’s shoulder and walked over to the weapons, picking up a broad sword. “Come, Seamus. If young Keifer hasn’t tired you, go a round with me.”

  Seamus grinned. “My pleasure, my laird.”

  The morning sun had grown warm, and both men pulled off their sarks. When Adam removed his, Keifer stared at the ragged mark on Adam’s left arm. As the men engaged their swords, they explained what Adam did to compensate for the lack of strength in his shield arm. Adam’s prowess was admirable, but Keifer’s gaze returned over and over to the scar.

  When both men were breathing heavily from their efforts, they halted and put up their weapons. The three of them walked across the bailey to the place behind the kitchen where a crock of water was kept for drinking. Filling the crock each morning was Keifer’s responsibility. Only now did Keifer remember that in his hurry to go fishing he had failed to do so today. Hopefully there was water le
ft from yesterday, or he could expect another rebuke.

  Adam picked up the drinking ladle and lifted the lid.

  “What’s this? No water?” He turned to Keifer. “This chore is to be done before breakfast. Why was it not done?”

  Keifer rolled his eyes. “I will fill it now, my laird.”

  Where Adam’s face had earlier reflected approval, now he scowled. “Aye, you will. And you’ll not roll your eyes in disrespect, either. See that this crock and the one in the kitchen are filled at the assigned time from now on.”

  Keifer grabbed the bucket to head to the well, mumbling, “I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  Adam grabbed him from behind and spun Keifer to face him. “I’ll tell you what difference it makes. I am thirsty, as is Seamus. And Cook needs water first thing, not when you are good and ready. Everyone must work together for the good of all, Keifer. Just because you don’t see the need doesn’t mean you can forgo your chores. I have reasons for my orders, and I expect you to obey. You want to be a knight? First you must learn this lesson. All true knights obey their master without thought of it twice.”

  Keifer hung his head.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my laird.”

  “Now fetch us some water.”

  Keifer took the bucket to the well and returned to fill the crock. Without being told, he checked to see if Cook needed water, but someone had already taken care of it. No doubt Keifer would get a scolding from Cook or Lady Gwenyth yet today as well.

  Seamus drank his fill and handed the dipper back to Sir Adam, who said, “Keifer will be along in a few minutes to clean the weapons. And for this other transgression, see that he sweeps out the armory as well.”

  Nodding in approval, Seamus said, “Aye, my laird,” and walked away.

  Keifer drank his fill in silence. He glanced at Sir Adam, and the man stared off in the distance, as if he’d just noticed a hole in the high wall surrounding the castle. Keifer thought it best if he remained quiet.

  Keifer replaced the dipper on a nail meant to hold it and looked up at his laird. He expected the man’s expression to be angry, but it was not. Adam pulled on his sark, covering the scar. Keifer stifled the desire to ask how Adam had been wounded.

  “Let us sit here in the shade a moment, Keifer.” They sat side by side on a wooden bench.

  Keifer wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. A soft breeze felt good on his face. The rest of the castle folk must have gone into the hall for the midday meal, because the bailey was deserted. Keifer’s stomach rumbled, and he looked forward to eating.

  But he could tell that Adam had more to say to him.

  “A good warrior is a disciplined warrior, Keifer. Part of that discipline is obeying orders. Part of it is self-control. A superior warrior masters both his strengths and his weaknesses.”

  “I understand, sir.” Hoping to direct the conversation away from his own transgressions, Keifer said, “You fight well, my laird. May I ask . . . How did you receive the scar?”

  A pained look crossed the man’s face.

  “Forgive my boldness, my laird. I should not have asked.”

  “No, Keifer. I’m glad you asked. When I tell you to master your weaknesses, your willingness to give in to temptation, I speak from painful experience.”

  Keifer nodded, anxious to hear about the great battle and Adam’s heroic deeds that earned him such a magnificent scar.

  “I do not consider my wound a badge of honor, Keifer, if that’s what you’re thinking. I gave in to temptation and nearly lost my life.”

  “Temptation?” Keifer was disappointed at the direction this was headed. Had Adam been hurt in a senseless brawl and not in the midst of battle?

  “Aye. The lure of things that are not good for us.” Adam stared across the bailey before continuing. “I served with your brother Gordon. Did you know that?”

  “Aye. Morrigan told me you knew him well. I don’t remember him myself. Only what I’ve been told.”

  “If I had been as good a friend to Gordon as he was to me, he might not have died at Dalry Pass.”

  Adam recounted the events of a hot August day, when his head had ached from too much drink. “I was so weary from my revels the night before, I was incapable of mounting a successful defense when my companions, including the king of Scotland and his family, were attacked. I barely escaped with my life, and I could not come to Gordon’s rescue.”

  Keifer’s heart pounded and his stomach clenched. He’d never known the details of how Gordon had died. “Was my brother a good fighter?”

  “As good as any highlander with little or no formal training can be. But he was a very good man, Keifer. He died protecting his king, a hero’s death.”

  Hero or not, Gordon’s death had been a blow to his family, especially to Keifer. “My mother and sister never blamed you.”

  “No, to their credit, they did not. They proved that tenfold by entrusting you to my care.”

  Keifer didn’t know what to say to that and remained silent.

  “I can’t help wondering how it might have been different if I had been sober and alert. ’Tis only by the grace of God that I am alive, Keifer. And all for the want of a bit of self-discipline. Most of the time I am able to accept God’s forgiveness, though it is still hard after all these years.”

  It would be easy for Keifer to blame Sir Adam, to see him as less of a man after this confession. But his pain and regret were obvious, and Keifer couldn’t help admiring him for being willing to expose his own shortcoming in order to teach Keifer. “Thank you for telling me this, my laird. I will keep my weapons clean, I promise.”

  “I’m sure you will. Learn from the mistakes of others, lad. Now go and see to your chores. When you are finished and Seamus has inspected your work, see if my wife has any duties for you to perform.”

  Keifer resolved to do better. If he did not, then Sir Adam might not recommend that Keifer receive further training. And Keifer wanted to be trained by the best of King Robert’s knights. Gordon had died when he might have lived had he been better prepared. The same would not happen to Keifer.

  FOUR

  THE DAY TURNED UNSEASONABLY HOT by afternoon. Keifer put the broom away and pulled his tunic on over his head. Seamus had inspected the cleaned weapons and gone home to his wife, telling Keifer he was free to go once he finished the sweeping.

  Keifer went in search of Nola and found her with her mother in the sewing room. “Lady Gwenyth, Sir Adam said I should ask what chores I might do for you today. And I’m sorry about the water this morning—I will do better.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She grinned at Nola. “If the two of you would help me wind the rest of this thread onto spools, I think it might be an excellent day for a swim. Without the sheep, this time.”

  Nola jumped up. “Aye! Let’s go!”

  Keifer, newly mindful of his responsibilities, said, “First the thread.”

  Working quickly, they finished in less than a quarter hour and Lady Gwenyth sent them off. Dense undergrowth provided a screen of privacy, and they took turns changing into something suitable for swimming. Keifer wore an old pair of breeches. Nola had a shirt of her father’s with the sleeves cut short and a pair of Keifer’s breeches he’d outgrown long ago.

  Now the sound of the waterfall soothed Keifer as he and Nola floated in the pool beneath it.

  With each lesson from Adam or Seamus, Keifer became more aware of the responsibility of leading his clan. The more he learned, the more he doubted his ability to do the job. It took everything in him to care for himself! How did a man go about caring for a great many people? How did Robert the Bruce do it? Let alone Adam?

  The thought of such great responsibility overwhelmed him.

  King Robert had recently brokered a truce with England, though Adam didn’t seem to think it would hold. Still, there was hope that this truce might lead to peaceful negotiations. Keifer just hoped that he would have a chance to us
e his skills before the two countries settled their differences. He was eager to try his hand in battle. Lairdship could wait.

  “Do you ever think about the future, Nola?”

  “Well, I am worried that Mother will make me take care of my brothers tomorrow while she sews.”

  He splashed water at her. “No, I mean when you’re grown. Where will you live, and will you know everything you need to take care of yourself and your family?”

  She had ducked the spray of water and paddled off a short distance.

  “I worry more that I’ll never get to see anything outside of the glen.”

  “Really? You’d like to travel?” Nola the adventuress. Somehow this didn’t surprise him.

  “Aye. Mother told me about France and about the great cathedrals in Paris. I asked if we can go there sometime, but it would cost a lot and my brothers are too small to travel so far.”

  “Maybe you can go when you are older. With an escort,” he added.

  She stopped swimming and stood up. “You could take me!”

  “I’ve no desire to see France.” Unless of course he was needed to guard the king of Scotland on a royal errand.

  Nola resumed paddling about. “Well, if I can’t see Paris, I would at least like to see Edinburgh, and maybe even Stirling Castle. You could take me there, couldn’t you?”

  “I could, but I have to complete my training, and that will take years. And I’m hoping that your father will recommend me to train with Sir Bryan Mackintosh.”

  “Can’t Seamus teach you everything you need to know?”

  “He’s a very good teacher, and so is your father. But I want to be knighted, to gain experience in the tourney, and perhaps in a real battle.”

  “You don’t have to be a knight to do that.”

  “Perhaps not. But I have a more practical reason. Innishewan is in need of money—money I could earn in tournaments, if I’m good enough.”

  Nola didn’t give up. “I don’t see why you have to become a knight. You could marry a wife with money.”

  He laughed. Practical Nola always had a solution. “I could. But maybe . . . maybe if I am the very best fighter, I won’t die senselessly and leave my family without protection.” He had never admitted that to anyone.