One Snowy Knight

by Deborah MacGillivray

  “Now that I am awake and my head clear, what is so urgent you broke my sleep?”

  “I failed to find my rest so decided to tour of your holding, assess what you need to see it secure here. I walked up to the top of the donjon and happened to catch sight of your lady heading toward the stables. They have built some sort of a pen near the postern gate. She and the old man are down there. The horses are raising a racket, trying to kick down the barn.”

  Noel had no time to question him further, as the door burst open and the old woman called Muriel rushed in. Her eyes widened as she saw them both. She did a small dip of deference and then gasped, “Oh, thank our Lady! You are up. You needs must come! Quick! ’Tis Skena…that cork-brain òinnseach—”

  “Òinnseach?” Noel questioned, reaching for his shirt.

  Guillaume chuckled. “A female fool. You hear it spoken about Ogilvie women now and again.”

  “What is wrong with Skena?” Noel’s heart rocked with urgency as he searched around for his baldric and found it hanging from a loop in the corner.

  “Wolves…” the woman gasped. “The silly female is trying to deal with wolves digging to get in. Fool, she thinks she has to do everything herself. The only help she has is that daft old man and two boys. I have a bad feeling about this. You must hurry.”

  Noel started to ask where, but then remembered. Looking at Guillaume, he said, “To the stables.”

  “Angus?” His name fell from her lips in a whispered gasp.

  Skena’s mind snapped back as the wolves crashed against the postern door, which in turn knocked into her, throwing her off balance. With the door all the way back, she was trapped against it and the opening for the blind. She shoved, trying to slide into protective cover, only the wolves jumped against the door’s plane, again and again, slamming her head to the stone wall. The last time was so hard that pain lanced through her mind. Reaching up, she felt moisture. When she drew her hand back, blood covered her fingers. It appeared black in the moonlight. Just like that dead wolf’s had in the snow. Biting back the sense it was an ill omen, she grew aware of voices yelling, but with the wolves snarling and yapping she could not hear what they were shouting.

  “Simple, eh?” Skena fought the dizziness brought on by her head hitting the stones. Looking at her trembling hand with the blood smeared on her fingers, she forced herself to take slow breaths to regain control. “I refuse to panic. First, get the door back enough for me to get inside the trap, and then I will continue with my plan…. Just kill a few more wolves than I bargained on. More meat for Cook’s pot.”

  Galen and the lads were calling, but she was unsure if that was to lure the wolves away from her, or if they endeavored to drive them out of the pen entirely. One animal screamed, mayhap from catching the end of one of the spears. The growling and barking only increased tenfold after that. Still, it saw an ease of resistance against the metal door.

  By pushing with all her might, she was able to rock the door enough for her to see out. The scene petrified her. There were at least seven wolves, but she could not be sure, because they were jumping around, fighting, and attacking the spears. Grays, blacks, and one white, but she took no time to count them as she shoved herself through the narrow slot and into the blind.

  As she was almost inside the safety of the blind, the white one turned and lunged at her, his massive jaw clapping on her lower arm. She screamed, seeing blood poured down his neck from a spear wound, soaking his thick fur. Never leave a wounded animal alive…sometimes, not even a man. ’Tis when they are most dangerous.

  While the bite hurt, the mail shirt she wore stopped his sharp teeth from penetrating and reaching her skin. The jaws remained locked on to her arm like a vise. She frantically kicked at his hind legs, but the creature snarled deep in his throat and jerked his head from side-to-side savagely, the force nearly causing her to lose her footing in the snow.

  In desperation, Skena grasped at the broadsword, but the strong beast began to drag her out into the pen. As a big black wolf ran foward, preparing to launch toward her, she cried out again, knowing she would not be able to fight off two of them. They would drag her down into the snow. As she struggled to reach the sword, realization hit her that she had no room to wield it since she was up against the doorway. Instead, she clutched at the arrows, finally coming up with two. Jabbing upward, she caught the second wolf in the throat at the last instant, not a deep enough wound to kill, but sufficient to slow his attack. It shrieked and howled, causing another one milling about to turn on him.

  A sword descended, slicing downward on the wolf with the arrows protruding from his neck and then the other one fighting with his packmate. De Servian. His booted foot slammed into the ribcage of the one hanging on to her arm, causing it finally to release its hold.

  Noel grabbed her upper arm and flung her into the blind. “Stay there!” Then he slammed the door shut and turned his attention back to the wolves.

  Guillaume tossed Noel a spear, and they began to force the pack to the outer door. Some of the beasts ran, escaping into the predawn darkness. Wounded ones continued to fight. Slowly, the two men backed the animals up enough for Skena to push out behind them. Notching an arrow in the small bow, Skena followed them, careful to nudge the dead wolves on the ground to make certain they had no life in them still.

  Half the pack or better was running away, but at least seven were down or dead. One reared up and tried to snap at her booted foot as she pushed at him. She did not hesitate to loose an arrow into his chest.

  Noel prodded at one wolf’s snout, driving him out the door. Since the crazed animal was attacking and refused to stop, he could not lower the spear long enough to close the door. He tried once, only to have the animal charge again. Noel was forced to follow the vicious animal. With a strong thrust, he caught the furious beast in the front of its chest and used all his strength to force the animal completely out of the gate.

  The creature’s boldness saw two others flanking him move forward, hoping to drag the man down with the pact’s tactics: one would go for one arm, the second the other, leaving the third wolf to lunge for Noel’s throat. Guillaume, seeing what the wolves were doing, pursued Noel, quickly killing the small grey on the right by hurling the spear. Only the pike embedded deep in the animal, and Guillaume was having a hard time pulling it out. He had to put his heel to the wolf’s body to remove it.

  While the pikes had been ideal for fighting within the pen, outside the spears were cumbersome compared to wielding a sword. Skena screamed as a wolf launched itself from the shadows at Noel’s back. Not hesitating, she loosed an arrow which flew into his neck, and then another into its chest as it hit the ground.

  Noel brought down the black wolf, which finally sent the other fleeing. Both men looked around them to be sure no lurking beasts lingered. At last, lowering their spears, they turned to each other.

  “Well, what shall we do for the rest of the morn?” Guillaume laughed. “Let us get within the wall before they grow bolder, drawn by the scent of the blood.” He kicked at the small one he had killed last. “This one is hardly more than skin and bones. The bigger ones seem to have fared better. We need to get someone to come pile them up and then burn them.”

  “Nay, we must drag them inside.” When both men stared at her, Skena slung her bow over her shoulder. She rushed to one of the wolves, grabbed his tail, and began dragging him through the snow.

  Noel grabbed her arm. “I told you to stay in the blind.”

  “If I had stayed in the blind, the wolf would have jumped you from behind, my lord,” she countered.

  “You will learn when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed, my lady.” His gaze narrowing on her in anger, he started to pull her toward the entrance.

  Guillaume put an arm out to gently restrain him. “Sage advice—which shall serve you well, my friend—never deal with a female when your blood runs hot.”

  “I am not going to deal with her—I am going to bloody well beat her,”
Noel threatened.

  Skena backed up several steps, crashing into the stone wall. Angus had never beaten her. She knew some men beat their wives; few had ever tried in Clan Ogilvie and not felt the strong hand of retribution. She kenned naught of the ways of these Norman-English. Mayhap they felt they had the right to do such to a woman. It brought clear just how little she knew Noel de Servian, despite this growing bond they shared.

  Guillaume shook his head and muttered, “Knave. I warned you to wait for a cooler head.”

  Noel dropped the pike and moved toward her. “Ah, Skena, lass, I would never lift a hand to you.” His hand reached out and stroked her hair. Trembling, she did not trust her voice to answer with strength, so she looked away from his handsome face. His bent finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me you do not tremble because you fear me.”

  Guillaume picked up his sword where he had left it just inside the pen while he used the spear. He nudged Noel’s arm with the pommel. “Let us drag her wolves inside and then return to the dun. She is shaking from the cold and the excitement. You need to get her warm. I need to get me warm.”

  Skena, still traumatized, was in no mood to deal with arrogant males. Ignoring them, she looked to Galen who had rushed in when he saw her backing up from de Servian. “Have the bodies dragged to the tanner. He will deal with them. Tell Cook to go there. Secure the gate with the swords as we did before so they will not try to get in again,” she told the elderly man.

  “Skena, as soon as we are done here we needs must talk.” Noel stared at her.

  So the new lord of Craigendan assumes command of her fortress. She nodded in resignation. “Aye, my lord.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Meat?” De Servian echoed as he slammed the door to the lord’s chamber. Rounding on Skena, he glared at her. “You were serious. Of all the stupid, half-wit—no, quarter-wit—notions! I still have a mind to turn you over my knee.” He waggled his finger before her face.

  Skena glared back at the fuming man despite his formidable presence. Tall men always held an advantage when they wanted to appear menacing, and de Servian was calling upon every measure of his fierce warrior mien. Still, his words instilled less alarm now he had vowed that he would never raise a hand to her in anger. She believed him. In spite of knowing him only a few days, she sensed honor in this man. Her inner voice spake she could trust Noel de Servian; he was a man of his word. Right now, regardless of the flashing eyes and set jaw, she little feared him. Oh, the man clearly had a temper.

  Well, after all these years she was discovering she had one as well. Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she said, “You would not dare.”

  “Watch me.” Noel reached out to grab her arm, only to have her duck away from him, putting first a tall stool and then the table between them.

  “Actually, my plan was well thought out and would have worked,” Skena defended her actions. “Except…”

  Noel rounded the table’s corner, closing in on her. “Except what?”

  Skena hesitated to say she had been distracted by Angus, standing on the landing of the boulevard. Though she knew what she had seen, she still had trouble accepting it. De Servian would naturally assume her feeble-minded, or as she accused Dorcas, allowed her grief to make her hope for things that would never be.

  Not that she was grieving, which tweaked her conscience. Despite all the trials, tribulations, and sheer panic this year had brought her, there was a sense of freedom from the stifling marriage and the humiliating situation foisted upon her by Angus and Dorcas. For the short span of these past months, no matter how dire things grew, she had been master of her destiny. She made decisions instead of waiting for Angus to rule how matters would be. The faint spark of her young girl’s dreams had continued to live in her heart, despite Angus’s spirit-crushing notions of marriage, which relegated her to little more than a servant or brood mare. That small hope had fanned to life with her thinking there might be a future with Noel on the horizon. This handsome man with the bespelling eyes provoked her to almost believe wishes could come true.

  Angus’s return would shatter all. She would be pushed back into a loveless marriage, a union where her only value had been the land she brought him and the son she bore. A marriage where he arrogantly thought he had the right to keep another woman as a lover, regardless of the humiliation it heaped upon her. Before, she had existed in a situation that sapped the life out of her, shredded her self-respect, and nearly killed all her dreams. Now it would destroy her.

  “I planned to open the door and quickly step into the trap…. Something distracted me. My fault. I should have kept my mind on what was happening,” she admitted, skirting around the other side of the table, about three steps ahead of the bedeviling man.

  “Something?” Noel kept stalking her. “Pray, what was important enough to pull you away from protecting your life? Those wolves could have killed you, Skena. And for wolf meat? Is this some odd Scottish custom like your haggis?”

  “Nay…. ’Tis desperation, Lord de Servian.” She tossed up her hands, fighting the helplessness rising in her. “’Tis doing what I must to survive, to see my people survive. I fear your king did you nary a boon giving you Craigendan.”

  “Edward Plantagenet oft fails to see the worth in things. I am not so foolish as to repeat his mistake. Craigendan is my wish fulfilled, Skena.” He stopped before her, his eyes meeting hers with a plea for understanding. The unhealed pain of a scared little boy flickered in the shimmering silver depths.

  Emotion clogged her throat as she understood what he was telling her. Edward Longshanks had given him the chance to have something he had lacked his whole life. Skena hurt all the more. Noel de Servian craved a family, a home to replace what he once lost. Instead of a place worthy of this man, he was given a rundown fief with dire prospects if they did not receive aid to get them through to spring.

  “’Tis you who are blinding yourself. Craigendan has few men. Only elderly, lame, or boys remain,” she confessed. She owed him the truth. He would find out soon enough. Better that he be prepared before he assumed the mantle of baron in front of her people.

  Noel frowned. “Who has been protecting the keep?”

  “Sleight of hand and mummery. My women don the armor of men and patrol the walls. I do not send them out to ride the boundaries as that would be too risky. Most have never been upon a horse anyway.” She sighed. “The ruse served us well, else trouble would have already reared its head from Duncan Comyn or Dinsmore Campbell.”

  “How long—” He paused, understanding hitting him. “Since Dunbar?”

  Skena nodded. “Aye. Angus took all the men who could fight, foolishly thinking they would return in a few weeks. Well, they never came back.” She sat down on the bench. So tired of the struggle. “Summer saw one of the worst droughts scorch the land, drying up crops. We worked from dawn to dusk trying to save what we could, but the effort was wasted. Quickly, it became a fight to keep the livestock alive. Stores are down. ’Tis why we make use of silverweed and wolf meat to fill out the supplies this past sennight.”

  “Why did you not go to Challon? He would have supplied soldiers and food.”

  Skena gave a feeble shrug, feeling imprudent for not having done as he said, ashamed for being selfish. “Fear, I suppose.” She looked up at him and attempted to smile at her folly. “I was scared what would happen to me and the children. If I made the situation known to Earl Challon, then he would set his own man here as lord, mayhap force me to marry him.”

  He sat down on the bench beside her and took her hand. “Well, Skena MacIain, whether you believe in wishes or not, your children do, and they wished for a knight to come care for you. I am that knight. I have long hungered for a home and a family. I believe my wish was answered in my coming here. Allow me to save you from the fate of losing all. I know the taste only too well. Shortly, I need to face your people, tell them that I am the new lord here. Mayhap…we should also inform them that on a day
of your choosing you and I shall wed. You will not be forced to marry, mind. I ask your consent.”

  Skena could hardly breathe, his words so filled her heart. De Servian was asking her to wed him? “Marry?”

  “Aye. ’Tis sudden, I know. Only our short time together tells me all I need to know I would be most pleased with you as my lady wife. Methinks your children already see me as theirs.” He gave a soft laugh. “Cipher upon your response before you tend it. True, we are but strangers. This winter can be spent learning about each other. Come spring, we can start to build a life here.”

  Despair slammed into her, pushing Skena to jump to her feet and blindly walk to the fireplace. She leaned her head against the stones and silently allowed the tears to come. More than anything in the world she wanted to give Noel de Servian her troth, to look upon the bright promise of the future he offered. Only her mind was tossed back to seeing Angus standing on the stairs, just before the wolves pushed through the postern door.

  “Skena, what is it?” Noel came to stand just behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, then slid them down to her upper arms. “Did I say aught to upset you? Tell me I am not wrong, that there exists this special bond betwixt us, something very rare. Did I misspeak?”

  “Nay, there is bond, rare and pure,” she admitted in a pained whisper.

  He turned her to face him. “Then you will plight your troth with me? Mayhap on the eve of Christmas? Do you not think it a good omen to marry a man named Noel on that day?”

  He pulled her into his arms, those strong arms, holding her against his body. Mayhap, it was too soon to know all about this man, yet Skena sensed this is where she belonged, the only place on earth she wanted to be. She was already falling in love with Noel. Time would only serve to strengthen their connection. Though they were strangers, she had no doubt this man was that part of her heart that had always been missing.