One Snowy Knight

by Deborah MacGillivray

  She stiffened her spine, worried that he might think she had not been doing all she could to save his friend. “Very well, Baron. If you will follow me?”

  As they passed, he nodded permission to his men to relax and partake of drink and food. They removed their mantles and sat at the long trestle table. At the great doors, she paused to look back, fearful her servants might do something to reveal how vulnerable Craigendan was. The men were smiling up at the women and—curse them—her ladies were watching these Englishmen with hungry eyes. She was glad Dorcas was on the wall, patrolling. Without doubt, the troublesome woman would prove a problem around these handsome Normans, in more ways than one. Skena really hated leaving the Great Hall. Under her watchful eye, her workers would behave. Without her there to herd them, she dreaded they would respond to attention from the men before giving true thought to Craigendan’s precarious position. Muriel scurried in from the kitchen, pausing to pinch Fenella on the arm, a reminder to pay heed to her forward ways. Skena relaxed concerns. Muriel would see to things.

  “Lady Skena…” Sir Guillaume motioned toward the stairs with his hand.

  Lifting her kirtle so she would not trip on the steps, she started up. “Lord de Servian had lain on the ground long enough to become covered with snow. My children found him. He spoke his destrier was spooked by ravens.”

  “At the passes? Then he had been near to Glenrogha. His guard said they figured he had made it that far just before they lost sight of him.” He shook his head. “He should have ridden his palfrey, not a tetchy destrier, in a winter storm and on terrain unfamiliar. They hold steady and are not so easily spooked. But you say ’tis the previous wound he suffered causing him trouble?”

  “He was blae when we found him.”

  “Blae?” he echoed. “Beg pardon?”

  “Aye, pale, blue from the cold. I took all care in warming him properly, and he seems to be a strong man, able to fight off the worst of being left in the snow. Still, he sickened with fever. I have battled that for three days and nights. He passed the crisis in the middle of the night. He is hoarse. I am giving him boiled vinegar and honey for that and a tansy to help fight the phlegm. Even so, I feel it will be days before he is ready enough to travel with you—”

  “There will be no need for him to travel back with me.”

  “But he said he was trying to reach Glenrogha to seek out your brother.”

  “Aye, that was his plan, according to his men. He wanted to visit Julian before coming here.”

  Her hand stilled upon the latch to the lord’s chamber. “Here? Why would he be coming to Craigendan?”

  The clear green eyes skimmed over her. “He was coming to take possession of the fief. Noel de Servian is the new baron of Craigendan.”

  It took all her willpower for her legs not to collapse under her. She could not absorb the enormity of his statement. She had known from the start the man lying in the chamber represented change. Foolishly, she had failed to discern just how much.

  “So, it seems Edward has sent a dragon after all. A foster dragon,” she snapped.

  Her hand trembled as she pushed open the door. Inside, a loud voice chattered away. Annis and Andrew were on the bed with Lord de Servian, Jenna nowhere in sight. Her son was telling the knight about Kelpies, while Annis dabbed a damp rag at the resting man’s brow.

  Guillaume Challon’s glare nearly turned her stomach sour as he rounded on her. “This is the care you afford one of King Edward’s most trusted knights?”

  Skena could not stop from backing up before the angry man. “Baron, I assure you—”

  “Here, you child, get away from him,” Guillaume barked, motioning with his hand for the children to get away from de Servian.

  Poor Annis, used to sharp commands from her father, almost seemed to shrink in upon herself. Her brown eyes went huge, fright filling them. Skena knew the feeling—the man was a force to behold. Had she not just quailed before the baron? Only, no one dared speak to her daughter in this manner. Skena feared if Annis knew only harsh tones from men of power that she might come to fear them and the marriage vows she would one day make.

  Swallowing her trepidation, she took swift steps to block Guillaume from the bed. “While you are brother to the overlord here, I am baroness of Craigendan, and no man shall dare address my daughter in such a rude manner. Am I made clear?”

  De Servian’s hand weakly reached up, took the cloth off his forehead, and then flung it into Guillaume’s face. Startled, the man snatched off the rag and tossed it back. Andrew burst out laughing, but quickly ducked out of sight on the far side of the bed. The top of his head popped back up as he peeked to see the baron’s reaction.

  “Rein in your temper on my behalf, Guillaume. You look just like Julian when you glower thusly. A dragon breathing fire terrifies small girls.” Noel shifted slightly and caught Annis’s small hand. Placing a kiss on her palm, he said, “I thank you, Lady Annis, for keeping watch over me whilst I sent your mother to finally eat something.”

  Skena’s heart melted, watching her daughter experience true tenderness from a man who was a figure of authority. Tears welled up in her throat. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she pressed her bent thumb to her lips, keeping back words wanting to spill forth.

  Annis did not move, untrusting of de Servian’s gentleness. Skena held her breath. Finally her daughter leaned forward and kissed Noel’s hand as he had hers. Despite fears and questions that arose from learning that this man was the new lord of her holding, this gesture to reassure her small child touched her deeply.

  “Skena, did you eat while you were belowstairs? You were not absented long enough.” Noel spoke with the tone of the new lord here.

  How could she have missed this before? Too unquestioning, she merely assumed he was used to giving commands to his men. Never once had it occurred to her that he could be expessing his possession of this keep.

  “Nay, I barely got to the table when we were descended upon by a pesky dragon, Baron Craigendan.” She did not take the edge off the chill in her voice, letting him know Guillaume had broken the tides that Noel was lord here now. Mayhap she should be more concerned about her fate and the children’s and pretend to have no objections to the situation. Only, it scared her. This man would soon decide what would be her future, would steal the rights of her children.

  De Servian watched her without moving, so still she could almost wonder if he even drew air. His silver eyes showed a touch of regret, then he shifted his gaze to his foster brother. “Skena, may I speak with Guillaume alone?”

  “Aye, Baron. Of course, Baron. Whatever you want, Baron.” She snapped her fingers as she spoke to the children, “Annis, Andrew, come. The baron wishes to speak to his foster brother without pesky Scots underfoot.”

  She could see the children were confused by the harsh sound of her voice, so laced with vehemence. Annis leaned over and kissed de Servian’s hand again, then climbed down off the bed. Andrew pursed his mouth and was slow to come, not happy about leaving his knight.

  “Come, children, hurry. We would not want to risk angering the baron.” Skena grabbed the children’s shoulders and pushed them to the door. She paused before closing it, looking at the two very handsome men, but really only seeing one.

  “Bloody dragons.” She slammed the door with her full fury.

  Guillaume watched the lady of Craigendan herd her two small children out the door. With a parting glance back, she closed the door—noisily—leaving them alone. “By God, she is just like these other women of Ogilvie blood.”

  Noel weakly pushed up to lean his shoulder against the cross boards of the bed. “Oh, and pray tell, what are these Ogilvie women like?”

  “Ready to cut your liver out and feed it to you in big pieces.” But there was a smile on his friend’s mouth.

  “From that expression on your handsome face I would adjudge such is not entirely a bad fate.”

  “Not entirely, though there are times. They are headstrong, used t
o rule, resent the bloody hell out of English invaders—”

  “And beautiful,” Noel added. “I briefly met the Lady Tamlyn and the Lady Aithinne back in August. Both Julian and Damian pretended indifference toward them before Edward. I assumed that was merely for show. It would never do for the king to know that they value their ladies.”

  “Lady Skena does not exhibit open defiance quite so strongly. Likely, her being a widow sees her used to accepting a man’s rule. Of course, Rowanne was married before, but I fear in this instance it only fostered her rebellious spirit. They speak my betrothed planted a knife in her lord husband’s chest one night, then stood and watched him die.”

  Noel’s head snapped back, startled by Guillaume’s allegation. “Surely, you jest?”

  “I warn you, my brother. These women of Clan Ogilvie are a breed rare, a law unto themselves. And take heed, there is little doubt they are witches.”

  Now Noel did laugh. “Trying to tweak my nose? This is a mischief I would expect from Simon, not you. He was always the one to enjoy a jest. You remained the rock for Julian.”

  “Nary a jape—a caveat. Be forewarned, these females are supposedly descended from a race of witchwomen who long time ago were said to have the ability to turn into catamounts. While I have not had chance to witness such, they do display the ability to know things beyond a normal range. You recall how Damian spoke of the kenning, a gift from his Scottish mother? Well, ’tis the same. His mother came from Ogilvie blood, likely where he gets it.”

  “I shall ponder about this later when I am not so tired and my head ceases this dull throb.” Noel sighed in exhaustion.

  Guillaume arched a questioning brow. “What are you going to do with the lady and her children?”

  “I owe the children my life; I owe Skena,” Noel said flatly. “Still, the situation is complicated, which sees many a pitfall ahead of me.”

  Guillaume pulled a chair next to the bed and sat. “How so?”

  “A flock of ravens near the passes of Glen Shane spooked Brishen.”

  “Queer moody birds. They seem to guard the passes.” Guillaume eyed him. “You will find Glen Shane…different, odd. The folk are good, but their beliefs, their ways can cause pause. Give the people a chance. While Edward sent us here as nary a blessing, we have been fortunate in making a home in this Northland. I was delighted to hear the news you were assuming control of Craigendan, as I know Julian is.”

  “I am pleased to have him as my overlord. We have been warriors too long, my friend,” Noel said solemnly.

  “So how did the children and Skena save your life?”

  “Brishen ran. My back slapped against the cantle, hitting an old wound that is not healing right. Then I fell. I cannot say how long I lay there, unable to rise, with the snow covering me. The children slipped off from the fortress because they swear they heard someone they call The Cailleach whispering to them to follow.”

  “The Cailleach, a crone goddess, lady of winter to these Scots.” Guillaume nodded, familiar with the lore.

  “I may have to give an offering to their goddess then. Had the children not followed the call, they would never have found me. I was too off the beaten path; no one else would have come. My fate would have been a very cold end.”

  “Lady Skena mentioned there was a problem with your back. Pray what is it?”

  “Near the end of the battle at Dunbar, I took a sword through the split in my mail. ’Tis not healing right. I lose the power to grip in my right hand.” Noel held up his hand and flexed it, checking the numbness.

  Guillaume pushed away from the chair. “Let me have a look see.”

  Noel turned so his back was to his friend, the muscles burning with each shift.

  “Merde! That’s blood red.” Guillaume touched his fingers to the angry flesh. ’Tis hot. Noel, we need to deal with that without delay.”

  “Skena said the same thing. Methinks she was hoping to get me past the worst of being exposed to the cold before she went gouging on me.”

  “I notice you speak of her not as Lady Skena, but in the familiar.” Guillaume prodded with his words and his fingers.

  Noel hissed in pain. “Enough. Any fool can tell it festers. I rot from the inside out.”

  “Aye, it’s clear something remains behind, poisoning your flesh. Sorry, my friend, we needs must draw the baneful corruption to the surface, lance it, and then cauterize it—done as soon as we can fetch the items needed. It shan’t be merry. Of course, from that parting glance the Lady Skena gave you, she should enjoy taking a knife to your wound. I infer you failed to inform her you were the new lord here.”

  “You gather correctly.”

  Guillaume stopped his examination. “Why had you not told her?”

  “There are complications that will have to be addressed. I was not feeling well enough to deal with the repercussions.”

  “And that being?”

  “That the man who did a fair job of running me through at Dunbar was Angus Fadden, Baron Craigendan.”

  Guillaume sat down hard. “I can see where that might muddy the waters.”

  “But there is more.”

  “More?”

  “Oh, aye. As the battle was winding down, we trapped a large group of Scots and disarmed them. Fadden slammed into one of my squires, grabbed his sword, and ran him through, then came at me from behind as I dismounted. The blade sought the seam in the mail, slicing into the side of my back.”

  Guillaume’s face darkened as he showed comprehension. “Ah. You dispatched the coward in single combat.”

  Leaning back, Noel nodded. “Aye, I killed Angus Fadden.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Still, it was a fair fight. I know you too well. You are as a brother to me, a most honorable man and not one to attack a man from behind. The same cannot be said about the former baron, eh? Plus you were fighting wounded. He had the advantage,” Guillaume pointed out.

  Noel gave a weak nod, shifting in the bed to be more comfortable. “Howbeit, will that matter once they learn? I will be the murderer of her husband, the children’s father, in their eyes.”

  “Stop such falsehoods. You murdered no one. The baron made his own choices, cork-brained though they were. He was likely too pigheaded to accept defeat. He knew if he attacked you, you would kill him. If he felled you before stopped, then he knew your men would cut him to pieces. One might view Fadden chose to take his own life, but was too cowardly and wanted it done by another’s hand,” Guillaume opined.

  “Mayhap.” Noel knew that no matter if it had been the baron’s choice, the end results would be his to bear.

  “Well, they say ’tis the season of miracles. The light is the shortest. End of one turn of the wheel, start of a new. Mayhap the blessings of Christmastide shall grant you a fresh beginning as well.” Guillaume exhaled. “We shall get you healed, then I fear there are issues that need addressing here.”

  “Issues?” Noel echoed.

  Guillaume nodded, rising and going to the fireplace to toss on a couple more blocks of peat. Using the poker, he jabbed at the half-burnt ones to stir the flames. “Most odd, Noel. Upon our arrival we were not challenged. I called out at the gate, demanding admittance in the name of Challon, and we were permitted entrance. No men came close to confront us.”

  “You rode under the standard of the Black Dragon. That tends to strike fear into the hearts of all men, not just Scots. They know Julian is their overlord.”

  Guillaume merely lifted his brow and shrugged. “Methinks very soon you need to get out of that bed, assume the title of baron, and do a head count of your men.”

  “What are you saying?” Noel reached for one of the covers and wrapped it around his shoulders.

  “Cipher this. How many men of Craigendan did you take prisoner at Dunbar?”

  Noel thought back on that dreadful day. So many dead or dying. One of the images he wished he could exorcize from his memory. The ugliness seemed forevermore burned into his soul. “Two score, m
ayhap a few over. Why?”

  “And what happened to them?”

  “Edward had them sent to Edinburgh Castle and then to England. Tides came most were trampled under horses as traitors. Why should their fate be of question to you?”

  “Methinks the men on the boulevard are likely young boys, naught more. They seem pages and squires, not men-at-arms. You need to take complete stock of your new holding. If you require soldiery, we can pull some from Lochshane and Glenrogha until spring. Once we have a tally of Craigendan, then we can refit to see your holding is secure. The Comyns and Campbells both craved to get their hands on this place. Julian is keeping close eye on Duncan Comyn, after his brother Phelan tried to kill all in the Challon party when they returned from Berwick.”

  “Rumors reached Berwick of the attack and that Phelan Comyn was left dead in the aftermath. Duncan had to do some tall talking and groveling at Edward’s boot to keep control of the clan’s holding of Dunkeld. What really happened?”

  “Phelan and his men ambushed the party as they returned from Parliament. Damian took arrows in the battle.”

  Noel questioned, “Is he all right now?”

  “Oh aye, doing very well. He is up and about, working to regain his strength. He will be a father in a few months. So will Challon. Hard to imagine, eh?” A grin spread over Guillaume’s face.

  “Methinks they are more than ready for a settled home, a family. So am I,” Noel told him.

  “Which brings me back to my original question, which you sidestepped—what are your plans for the widow and the children?”

  “Once, long ago, Fate robbed me of my birthright,” Noel admitted, feeling the pain of a loss that had never truly left him.

  Guillaume leaned back in the chair. “It also gave you Julian, Simon, Damian, Dare, Redam, and me for brothers though.”

  “True, and not for one day did I draw breath without giving thanks for that twist of life. I have been blessed, I fully know.” Noel paused, fighting back old emotions. Oddly, he had gone through much of his life without tasting the child’s sorrow, the sense of losing everything. Being here in Craigendan seemed to have let loose the old demons. “Long ago Fate took a family from me. Mayhap it now returns what it stole. Skena is a fighter.” He did not add the words unlike my mother. “She cares about her children, about the people of this keep. I hope…given time she will come to accept the paths of our destiny.”