“Not the wealth itself, but what it would allow me to do.”
“What?”
Duncan shrugged. “It matters not. Without the rubies, I stand no chance of gaining what I’ve wanted all my life.”
“I do not have them,” Kara said simply, and he believed her. “But if I did...” She lowered her head, then met his gaze again. “I do not know that I’d give them to you if it meant you’d leave.”
“Why is my staying so important?”
“I told you...I had a vision in the Beltane fires this spring. You vanquished the MacGorys and saved the valley.”
Duncan snorted. “Foolish nonsense. A hope fed by desperation. Doubtless you saw a knight—”
“I saw you.” Her features tightened. “But I do not expect you to believe in me. ’Tis enough that I believe.”
“But—”
The ringing of a bell cut off his words.
“MacGorys!” Kara cried, and plunged down the road in the direction of the pass with Duncan close behind.
A huge pile of rocks sixty feet high blocked the exit from the valley. Kara wheeled around a huge boulder and sprinted along the narrow switchback trail that led up the face of the mountain. Two men waited for them on the plateau at the top. They wore conical helmets and the Scottish leine croich, a thigh-length quilted coat. It offered less protection than Duncan’s mail, but made them quicker, more agile fighters.
“Is it MacGorys, Eoin?” Kara asked.
“Aye.” The man was thickly built, his weathered face folded into a fierce scowl. “They’re sneaking up on a party of travelers riding along the river road. Bloody fools.”
“Merchants?” Kara asked.
“Nay, priests by the look. Bloody fools,” Eoin repeated.
Duncan frowned. “Surely they’d not attack a priest.”
Eoin looked him up and down, then sniffed. “MacGorys are a wee bit short on chivalry. They’d kill their own mothers.”
“Have they attacked?” Kara asked.
“Not yet, but we saw those heathen MacGorys crawling about in the long grass.” Eoin spun around as a motley herd charged up the trail. “Ah, here come the rest of the lads.”
Some of the lads were bent and gray, others not yet old enough to sprout a beard. There were even a few women.
“Where are your fighters?” Duncan exclaimed.
“We’re all that’s left,” replied a toothless old man. “But we’re still strong enough to give those MacGorys a drubbing.”
Kara was frowning, her eyes filled with pain, but she straightened her spine and looked at Eoin. “Let us see what those fiends are about.”
“Wait,” Duncan called, but he was left in the dust as the warriors of Gleanedin disappeared into a tunnel to his right. Swearing under his breath, Duncan went after them. The darkness pressed all around him, his eyes ached from trying to pierce the shroud. Then his mount rounded a bend and he saw a square of light beckoning.
When he emerged, he found himself on a high cliff. The Gleanedins were gathered at its edge, studying the broad plain that lay between the mountains and the distant Lowther Hills. The river flowed past the cliff, bordered on the far side by a thick stand of trees. From this vantage point, Duncan saw immediately the natural defenses of which Kara had boasted.
There was only one place shallow enough to ford the river, only one tiny trail leading up the sheer face of the cliffs. Both lay in the shadow of this plateau. A few bowmen could easily pick off any attackers brave enough, or stupid enough, to attempt an assault on Edin Valley.
“Eoin, is there a guard posted here at all times?” Duncan asked. At Eoin’s nod, he went on to ask about numbers, rotations and means of summoning reinforcements.
Eoin’s answers were clipped, but the frost left his voice as he warmed to the subject and to Duncan. “We twice beat back the MacGorys. The third time, they fashioned big hide shields and came at us bunched together so our arrows bounced off them.” He grinned wolfishly. “But we gave them such a hot welcome they’ve not been back.” He pointed to a wedge of scorched earth that flowed down the mountain and bisected the trail. “Poured grease down yon slope, we did, and set it afire.”
Duncan laughed, causing heads to turn. His eyes locked on Kara’s curious ones. “Eoin was telling me about the hot feet you gave the MacGorys last time they came calling.”
Grinning, she walked over. “That was Fergie’s idea. He was hurt too bad to fight, but not to think.”
“The MacGorys are massing,” someone called, and they all raced back to the edge of the plateau.
“What can we do?” Kara whispered, her eyes, like everyone else’s, fastened on the dozen or so men in long, cowled robes.
Seemingly unaware of the danger lurking in the long grass, the priestly column slowly advanced along the road. They rode single file, a pack animal bringing up the rear of the line. Less than a mile and they’d be abreast of the waiting MacGorys.
Duncan’s fists balled in frustration. The distance was too great for them to hear a shouted warning. Even if they did, they could not hope to outrun their attackers.
“We have to help the priests,” Eoin said grimly. Murmurs of agreement greeted his statement.
“’Twould be suicide,” Duncan argued. The Gleanedins were no match for the strong, well-armed warriors he’d glimpsed running into position a few moments ago.
“Even so, we must try.”
“Mayhap some of us could divert the MacGorys while the rest ride and warn the priests,” Kara said.
Eoin nodded. “Aye, that might work.”
Duncan scanned the area again. The hair on his nape prickled, and his gut knotted. Something about this troubled him. “I have a better idea,” he murmured.
Chapter Five
Kara stared at Duncan, aghast. “What do you mean, we should do nothing? Do you want the priests to die?”
“They are not priests,” Duncan repeated.
Kara looked at the scowling Eoin, then at the men riding down the plain. They were closer now and she could see their bare feet swinging against their mounts’ ribs. “They wear homespun robes, tied at the waist with rope, I think. And look there, is that not a crucifix about that one’s neck?”
“It may be, but they are not priests,” Duncan growled. “And if you try to help them, the MacGorys will wipe you out.”
“You belittle our fighting skills?” Eoin snapped.
“Quite the contrary, I applaud your bravery, but ’twould be spent in a lost cause.”
“We cannot just sit here and watch the priests die.”
“Why would you care? You do not worship God.”
“What do beliefs matter when there are lives at stake?” Kara exclaimed, amid shouts of agreement.
Duncan glared right back at her. “I am trying to save lives—yours. Only you are too impetuous to listen—”
“Ah,” Kara said, brightening. “You have a plan. Are you going to sneak down and—?”
“I am not going to lift a finger.”
“Oh, you...you—” Angry and disappointed at her craven hero, Kara punched him in the chest. It was like hitting solid rock. “We will go without you.”
He caught her arm and tugged her back against him. “You are not going anywhere.” His grip was painless but inescapable. “That’s better,” he said when she stopped struggling. His thumb whisked over her reddened knuckles. “You’ll have more than a few bruises if you don’t listen.”
“I’ll listen,” Kara snapped. “Then I’m going down—”
“Think a moment, all of you,” Duncan said angrily. “What would a dozen priests be doing here? Kara herself told me that Father Luthais comes only a few times a year.”
“Mayhap they come in force to convert the heathen Gleanedins,” Eoin said.
“More likely, ’tis a trap,” Duncan countered. “Think. The day is warm, yet they wear thick cloaks and cover their heads. Why?”
“Mayhap God’s servants are immune to the heat.”
&
nbsp; “I spent three years crusading with some of the most devote priests and monks. They do hunger, thirst and sweat as we do, and some are none too quiet about it.”
“If you are wrong, twelve priests die,” Eoin grumbled.
“I am not wrong.”
Kara felt the steady beat of his heart against her back and wondered how he could be so cool, so certain. “But—”
Duncan released her and stepped away. “Shall I go down alone and prove I’m right?”
“Nay.” Kara caught his arm, steadied by the strength of his muscles. “I could not bear it if we were wrong.”
“’Twould not please me, either.” He smiled faintly, giving her a glimpse of the softness he hid.
“What do you suggest we do?” she asked.
“Wait.”
Kara grinned. “We Gleanedins are not very good at waiting, but we will do as you suggest.” There was a bit of grumbling from the youths, who hungered for battle, but everyone settled down on the rim of the plateau. As the minutes dragged by and the others watched the procession draw closer, she studied Duncan’s rugged face.
He was concerned but calm, the tick of a muscle in his cheek the only evidence he was not completely relaxed. Suddenly he shifted, hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
The column had reached the concealed MacGorys.
Kara held her breath, going up on tiptoe to see.
A scream ripped across the plain, startling the birds from the trees below. They took flight in a shrieking plume as the MacGorys leapt from hiding and raced toward the cowled men.
“God have mercy.” Kara grabbed hold of Duncan’s arm, twisting her face away from the grisly sight. His hand cradled the back of her head, holding her close to his chest. The links of his mail pinched, but no less than her conscience.
“Shh. It’s over,” he murmured, stroking her hair.
“So quick?” Kara turned and beheld an incredible sight. The MacGorys and their would-be victims milled about on the road, shaking their spears and screaming curses at those on the cliff.
“They’re furious we didn’t take the bait,” Duncan said.
Kara’s relief was so great she sagged against him. “Bloody hell, what if you hadn’t been here to stop us?”
“But I was...and don’t swear.”
Kara leaned back, staring intently into his dark eyes. “Aye, you were here, and you saved us. Just as I knew you would.”
He jerked as though she’d scorched him, then let go of her. “Do not read more into it than there was.”
“I am not. The facts speak for themselves.” Kara’s heart was beating so fast she clasped her hands over it. “You saved us, just as the Beltane fires predicted.”
The savior of Edin Valley scowled. “Fine. Now mayhap you will return my rubies, and I’ll be on my way.”
“I do not have them,” Kara said softly, her mind already leaping ahead. “And the MacGorys are not vanquished, merely thwarted for the moment. An enraged wolf is a dangerous adversary, Duncan. We need you more than ever.”
“And I need my rubies.” He turned and stalked away.
Kara gave chase. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“To search Edin Tower from top to bottom.”
As she watched him go, Kara hoped that the cursed rubies were either buried in the muddy riverbank where they’d found Duncan or that the thief had them well hidden.
Duncan came down to dinner that night in a foul mood. He’d spent the day exploring every corner of the old tower. The folk of Edin had given him leave to paw through their pitiful belongings. They’d emptied their pouches, pockets and even their boots. When that search yielded nothing, he’d gone looking for safe holes and hidden chambers. His shoulders were bruised from butting them against walls, his fingers scraped from grubbing for secret trip mechanisms.
“So, how was the hunting?” Fergus asked, stepping from the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.
“Futile.” Duncan had learned to judge men’s honesty by the way their gaze met his. Fergus’s was guileless. Besides, he’d been hunting at the far end of the valley when Duncan arrived.
“Kara thinks ’tis possible these gems were lost along the river when you were felled by the fever.”
“They were stitched into the lining of my leather pouch. The thread had been cut, the stones taken and the stitches reset.”
“Hmm.” Fergus scratched at his beard. “Could your traveling companions aboard ship have taken them?”
“How did you know I came by ship?”
“How else would you cross the sea?” Fergus questioned sagely.
“I still had the stones when I camped my first night out of Carlisle. I could feel them through the lining.”
“Well, ’tis certainly a mystery, but I’m glad you’re convinced we didn’t take them.” He threw a companionable arm across Duncan’s shoulder and steered him toward the great hall.
Duncan shrugged out of his grasp. “I am not convinced. Someone here took the rubies and my letter.”
“Letter? This is the first I’ve heard of a letter.”
“’Twas a short note.” Janet had slipped it to him when he left Threave. In it, she pledged her undying love and swore she’d wed him when he returned, whether he’d made his fortune or not, although his code of honor prohibited him from doing that.
“Well, it would be lost on the likes of us, for no Gleanedin can read or cipher.” Fergus threw open the big double doors and motioned for Duncan to precede him into the hall.
No sooner did Duncan step over the threshold than a great cheer went up, and he was mobbed by grinning, shouting people. Men pounded him on the back, women kissed his cheeks. and thrust their runny-nosed bairns at him.
“What the hell?” Duncan muttered.
Kara appeared to take his elbow, her smile radiant. “’Tis our way of saying thank you for saving us today.”
“By smothering me?” he asked.
“You’re a fraud, Duncan MacLellan,” Kara chided. “You’re touched but too stubborn to admit it.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Not on the cheek, but full on the mouth.
Odd how the feel of her soft lips could harden the rest of his body. And she knew it, too, for when she moved away, she slanted him a teasing grin. “Come, sir knight, a feast awaits.” She held out her hand, and he took it, following her through the cheering throng like a man in a daze. Kara Gleanedin was a very dangerous woman.
There was no high table, no dais like the one from which Cousin Niall looked down on his retainers. But the table to which Kara led him had been spread with a flaxen cloth and laid with matching crockery instead of the wooden bowls and cups.
“Thank you. This is very fine, indeed,” Duncan said, surprised to find that he meant it, he who had eaten off silver plates with the kings of two nations. More surprising was the catch in his voice.
“You are kind to say so.” There was an edge to Kara’s tone, a twinkle in her eye that said she knew he was used to finer.
Duncan looked out over the sea of Gleanedins, dressed in their mended homespun, but what he saw was their shining faces, their genuine smiles. “’Tis a banquet fit for a prince.”
“It’ll be a cold feast if ye don’t cease talking and start eating,” grumbled the big man who stood at the side door that led to the kitchens.
Everyone laughed, then turned to seek their places at the rough-hewn trestle tables and benches. The servants streamed in, passing among them with heavily laden platters. Steam rising from them filled the air with the rich scent of roasted meat.
“I thought you were short of food,” Duncan murmured as he helped Kara step over the bench.
“In addition to thanking you for your quick thinking, we celebrate Samhuinn tonight.”
“The feast of the dead?” Duncan said, appalled.
“We prefer to think of it as the winter solstice. The day we bring our flocks to their winter folds and give thanks to all gods for the harvest. Still, I’m surprised you know of it
.”
“My mother practiced the old ways.”
“You do not approve.”
Another memory flickered through his mind. A bonfire at dusk, people dancing around it, eating, drinking and laughing. His parents, holding hands as they gazed into the fire. “I was taught to think such things unholy.”
“By that dreadful cousin of yours?”
“Cousin Niall is a godly man.” If a bit overzealous.
Kara snorted. “Too much of a good thing can be bad.”
“I do not agree.” But he was beginning to question.
“I’ve saved the best bits for you.” The huge man who’d been by the door set a platter down on the table.
“Duncan, this is Black Rolly MacHugh.”
Duncan nodded. “You’re not a Gleanedin, then?”
“In spirit only.” He began heaping slices of roasted venison into Duncan’s bowl. “I was wed to Kara’s aunt.”
Duncan assumed she’d died in a MacGory raid, but when Rolly had moved on to serve Fergus, Kara leaned over and confided that Annie Gleanedin MacHugh had died in childbed several years ago.
“Black Rolly stayed on here. He was with Fergie when the MacGorys attacked and took a blow to the hip. Now his leg’s stiff and nearly useless. So much suffering,” she said sadly, looking out over the crowded hall.
It was tiny compared with the great hall at Threave, the vaulted ceiling so low the battle banners hanging from it nearly brushed the heads of the diners. Poor and mean, Cousin Niall would have called it, for the rough-hewn timbers were soot streaked from the smoke of countless fires. But colorful woolen hangings brightened the stone walls, and the rushes underfoot smelled of fresh herbs.
To Duncan, the greatest difference was the people.
“Your clansmen have endured much,” he said. “But their trials have neither broken nor embittered them.” Indeed, the folk of Edin bounded about like a brood of boisterous pups. They laughed and teased each other. They praised Black Rolly’s feast and devoured it with disarming relish. “Never have I seen people take so much enjoyment from a simple thing as eating.”
The Knights of Christmas Page 5
