“Go on,” the king said, putting a hand up as Bothwell attempted to protest his audience.
He turned to the chancellor, knowing he had only one opportunity to convince the king of what he knew to be true. He would make an enemy today, but so be it. Without hesitation, he spoke.
“Some months ago, Richard Wyld, royal messenger to King Edward, was murdered before he could deliver the same request Your Grace received more recently, to renew your oath of fealty to King Edward and be recognized as the prince of Scotland.”
Bothwell immediately began to protest but was silenced by the king, so Neill continued without even glancing at the accused.
“The Earl of Bothwell fled the council at Brockburg when he learned of this message. I suspect he had something to do with Wyld’s fate. As evidence, I respectfully ask if the earl has tried to convince Your Grace not to renew this vow even though such an action would provoke an erosion of the peace our countries have enjoyed—”
“Until the eradication of the Day of Truce,” Bothwell bellowed.
Neill remained calm and continued to make eye contact with the king. “A decision made by the Scottish border lords—”
“Who will not treat with a man like Caxton.”
“Aye,” Neill said, addressing the king and doing his best to ignore the man who stood beside him, “and Caxton will be replaced upon word of your renewed oath.”
“So says you,” Bothwell spat.
“My king granted this as a reward,” he said, his eyes still on the king.
“For winning the Tournament of Peace,” Alexander finished. “Without such a boon, Caxton would remain in his position. Edward’s lack of resolve to keep peace in his northern borders concerns me, Sir Neill Waryn.”
He’d been prepared for this.
“I do believe, Your Grace, his father and Caxton were great allies. My king and the warden are not. He granted me the concession as a reward, aye, but it would have happened eventually if not for King Edward’s preoccupation with France.”
It was the best, and only, answer he could give.
Would it be enough?
Neill wanted to say more, but he remained silent. Alexander was known to favor silence over speech, and so he waited.
He glanced briefly at Bothwell and did not like what he saw there. The man was smirking at him. He did not appear overly concerned for a man who’d just been accused of murder.
At worst, Neill would be tossed in the dungeon of Edinburgh Castle for making false claims against the chancellor of Scotland.
At best, he would obtain King Alexander’s agreement to renew his fealty—only for him to have to return to England for a more challenging encounter with a less patient and forgiving king. A man who could easily retaliate for Neill’s broken pledge.
Perhaps the choice he faced was between a Scottish prison and an English one.
Finally, King Alexander spoke. “Escort this man from the hall,” he bellowed.
A Scottish prison, then.
Chapter 24
Kathryn stood in the muddy road, rain having arrived unexpectedly, waiting for Lady Sara to emerge from the ferrier’s shop. They’d come to Kenshire’s village for the day, Sara walking from home to home, shop to shop, speaking with her people. She wore her boy’s attire, and none seemed troubled by her odd choice of dress.
In fact, the people loved her. Clearly, Sara and Geoffrey knew how to make their people happy. There was a sense of belonging here, one she’d not felt for a long time.
Maybe ever.
Despite the rain, which had diminished to a not unpleasant mist, Kathryn had chosen to wait outside the shop, preferring to watch the comings and goings of the townspeople.
Kathryn thought, as she did most often, of Neill. He’d been gone for more than a fortnight now, and with each day that passed, Kathryn was more convinced their fanciful musings about being together were just that.
She and Sara still spoke of it, at times. Neill’s reward, his arrangement, and the various ways he might pacify the king without marrying Lady Alina. They’d not arrived at any acceptable solution, although she suspected Sara would never admit defeat.
Kathryn also thought, as she did every day, of Bothwell and her father, and she wondered what the latter would make of her current predicament.
He would be proud of her resourcefulness, she’d concluded, but not of her relationship with Neill. Her father had always been a king’s man, one who had served Edward’s father faithfully for years. Still, there was no denying he’d trusted the father more than the son. He had insisted she not return to court if he should fall ill, after all. His reluctance had seemed curious to her, and she wished he’d given more indication of the reason. It may have helped her to learn if someone in the English court could have wished him dead.
“Pardon, my lady.”
Kathryn recognized the woman who stood before her. The miller’s wife. The mill was the first place she and Sara had visited earlier.
“Good day, Mistress Greta.”
The woman startled.
“You are named as my mother was,” she explained.
Greta smiled. “Many blessings to her.”
She was about to tell the woman her mother had died many years ago when Greta’s smile fled from her face. “She’s no’ with this world, my lady.”
Kathryn’s eyes widened. “How . . .”
“You’ve met Greta,” Sara said, approaching. “Have you shared your special ability with Lady Kathryn yet?”
Greta smiled broadly.
Ah. Mistress Greta was a seer. Kathryn had met such men and women before, though most did not tout their abilities out of fear. It was not surprising that this woman would share her gift openly with Lady Sara, however.
“I sensed a sadness in her,” Greta said. “But nay, my lady, I’ve not done so yet.”
Sara looked at her expectantly, and it struck her that this was one of the reasons the countess had brought her here today. Although Kathryn feared what the future might bring, she was also eager for knowledge of it. She nodded eagerly to the miller’s wife. “If you would be so kind as to share any knowledge you have,” she said. “I’d be most grateful to hear it.”
Stepping off to the side of the road, Mistress Greta took Kathryn’s hands in her own. She nearly laughed at the expression on Sara’s face, all eager expectation.
Staring at the wisps of red hair peeking out of the woman’s cap, Kathryn wondered at the wisdom of what she had so impulsively agreed to. What if Greta foretold something she was not prepared to hear? Neill’s face flashed before her, and Kathryn nearly pulled away.
She must have appeared worried because Greta squeezed her hands.
“Three lions, a dragon, and a castle. In a sea of red.”
Alarmed, she attempted to pull away then.
“Nay, ’tis not blood. There is . . . resolve. And joy. Though I still can sense a great sorrow in you.”
Kathryn glanced at Sara and waited for more, but Greta dropped her hands abruptly as a wagon full of satchels creaked by. “It has finally arrived.” The woman offered them a quick curtsy, then ran off before Kathryn could ask her any of the dozens of questions on her lips.
“Grain,” Sara said. “Shall we?”
They walked toward the stables, Sara’s guards not far behind them.
“Three lions, a dragon, and a castle. In a sea of red.” Sara stood at the entrance of the stables, a boy no older than ten and two running inside with excitement to fetch their horses.
“Robbie,” Sara explained. “His father is the stable master.”
Kathryn looked down at the mud on the hem of her gown. Sara’s gown, to be precise.
“These—” Sara pointed to her legs, “—have many uses. You would find them quite freeing.”
Kathryn tried to imagine herself in the breeches and laughed aloud at the thought of the looks she’d get were she to ever wear them in court. “Perhaps . . .”
She and Sara mounted and rode alo
ng in companionable silence—the only sound that of the horses’ hooves sinking into the mud. They didn’t speak again until they were on the road back to Kenshire Castle.
“Any thoughts on what Greta said to you?” Sara asked at last.
“Nay, none at all. I confess—I’m troubled by it.”
“Her mother had a similar gift.” Sara looked up as a bird squawked loudly overhead. “My father often consulted her, although many cautioned against it. I’ve found her quite believable myself.”
“If only she’d given me a hint of how to proceed with Neill. I can’t make sense of what she said.”
Sara slowed as the guards in front of them did the same. It took Kathryn a moment to see what the men were looking at, but when she did, her heart leapt in her chest.
A party of Kenshire men riding toward the castle from the north. But it was the one who lacked the Kenshire coat of arms that interested her most.
More precisely, the black-haired one without a helmet.
Neill had returned at last.
Had Kathryn harbored any doubts about her feelings for the English knight, the sight of him confirmed what she already knew.
She’d fallen in love with the most skilled tourney knight in all of England. And although she had little hope for their future together, her spirits soared at the sight of him. Nothing mattered at the moment other than the fact that Neill was safe. She and Sara spurred their horses to move faster, both of them eager to learn what had transpired at Edinburgh Castle.
At least he had not been imprisoned by the Scottish king.
Or worse.
Geoffrey whistled. “You could have been killed.”
They sat in the lord and lady’s solar, Neill having just explained all that had transpired at Edinburgh. More precisely, Geoffrey sat while Neill paced the room, wanting to finish as quickly as possible so he could see his lady. His brother, who had been waiting for him at the entrance to the main keep, had brought him here straightaway.
“Aye. And I suspected I would be when Bothwell arrived.”
He stopped in front of the door long enough for Geoffrey to guess his intention.
“Go, find her,” he said. “Though nothing has changed, brother.”
He knew it well.
“I spoke with Clave,” he said. Geoffrey frowned, knowing the direction of his thoughts. Neill had already known, in broad strokes, the circumstances of his sister’s marriage, but he had not realized their situation was so similar to the one he and Kathryn faced. The matter had worked out to their advantage. Was he a fool to hope?
“You, Bryce, and Emma all married for love, and I aim to do the same.”
“I wish it for you, Neill. I truly do,” Geoffrey said, and he could see in his eyes it was true. “Indeed, Sara has ensured we’ve spoken of the matter quite a bit while you were away. But I fear King Edward . . .”
“Is an inflexible man, aye. I know it well.”
“Are you willing to incur his wrath? The possibility that he will retaliate by keeping Caxton in his position?”
Neill had thought of little else and knew there was little he could say to appease his brother. Because he knew the stakes were high indeed. He’d nearly gotten himself tossed into a dungeon in Edinburgh. This time he would, perforce, need to be more careful. “Now we wait. ’Tis Edward’s move—”
“And when you receive an invitation to court? To your own betrothal ceremony?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
When the door swung open, his heart leapt at the thought of seeing Kathryn on the other side. Instead, Sara entered. Alone.
“She’s in the hall,” she said, in answer to his silent question. “And you can stop scowling,” she chastised her husband, which earned a grin from Neill. At least he and Kathryn had one staunch supporter.
Without hesitation, he left his brother and his wife alone and made his way to the great hall. When he entered, Neill spotted Kathryn immediately. She stood by the hearth, the two of them speaking quietly. She appeared, somehow, even lovelier than when he’d left.
Content to watch her, for now, as her hands moved from side to side in conversation, Neill thought of the first night he’d spotted her at The Wild Boar. Though she’d seemed comfortable enough among the patrons, she’d stood out immediately. She had never belonged there, the truth obvious to anyone with a discerning eye.
She belonged here.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Kathryn turned toward him. Her broad smile was exactly as he remembered it.
And then it happened.
He recognized the expression on her face and fairly ran toward her. She was breathing heavily, Faye looking on in confusion.
“My lady!” Faye put her hand on Kathryn’s back.
“She will be well,” he insisted, taking his lady’s hand. “This has happened before.”
Eyes wide, Kathryn continued to struggle for breath. Ushering her toward the hall’s entrance, he reassured his aunt by marriage as best he could.
Neill led Kathryn down a familiar but private path. Stopping at the top of the stairwell that led down to the Sea Gate, he wondered what had provoked her latest attack.
“I’m feeling better.” She took a long, deep breath, held it, and smiled. “I don’t know what . . . I saw you on our way back from the village, so I knew you were well. ’Twas so hard to wait for you.”
He kissed her.
Hard.
She’d insisted she was well, and Neill had thought of little else on his journey but the feel of her lips, the sound of her release.
It was like that first time, their mouths melding together so perfectly that Neill knew this woman was meant to be his. Groaning, he pulled away while he still had the strength to do so.
They stood in the darkened corridor, the only light from the crack beneath the door they’d used to enter the passageway.
“I don’t believe anyone but Faye noticed,” he said, still wondering what exactly had happened. “Does this occur often?”
She nodded. “The first time was the day after I arrived at the inn. Finally safe after days on the road, I sat alone in my room and began to feel as if I could not take a breath.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Much better. Though very curious to learn what happened in Edinburgh, I’ll admit.”
“Shall we go back to the hall, or down to the sea?”
“Nay, tell me here. Please.”
“Bothwell has been imprisoned for killing your father.”
He’d not imagined telling her precisely like this, but Neill did not want to hold her in suspense any longer. He wanted her to rest easy with the knowledge her father’s murderer had been caught.
He told her then of all that had transpired, including his audience with the king. Her eyes widened when he spoke of Bothwell’s sudden appearance.
“When the king called for a guard to escort me from the hall, I thought I would be visiting Edinburgh’s dungeon next. I was taken to a chamber as a ‘guest of the king’s,’ where I waited for hours. It wasn’t until late that evening that I was escorted back to the king, this time in his solar. He informed me that Bothwell had denied all charges, of course, but one of his men had buckled under the king’s questioning.
He hesitated, unsure whether or not he should share the details.
She deserved to know all that had transpired.
“The man who actually killed your father . . .”
She sucked in a breath.
Neill reached for Kathryn, pulling her against him.
“He confessed quite easily, I’m told. Alexander assured me Bothwell would receive ‘a king’s justice’ and that he would renew his oath to Edward, which he’d intended to do before learning about Bothwell. I expect the message has already been delivered.”
He pulled back, watching for her reaction.
“Bothwell has been imprisoned?”
“Aye. As has the man who carried out his orders.”
“The oath of feal
ty. King Alexander will give it.”
“Aye.”
She shivered in his arms. Neill cradled her against his chest, soaking in her presence, the warm, soft feel of her. The smell of sea air wafted up to them.
“This changes nothing between us,” she said.
“It serves only to hasten Edward’s reward. One I was most grateful to have been given, but no longer.”
She pulled away to look up at him.
“You can bring peace to the border.”
“Nay, not I. The borderlands alone can do that.”
“But you can provide the conditions to make it happen.”
“Aye.”
“By marrying Lady Alina.”
“Never.”
He said it emphatically, for he felt emphatic. They would find another way. He could live with no other conclusion.
“Thank you.”
He barely heard the whisper that sent shivers through him. Her gratitude was more valuable to him than any tournament he’d ever won. It had sent him to Edinburgh, to the Scottish royal court. He’d go anywhere to defend her.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her, a scent he’d come to love more than any other.
She belonged here, he thought again.
She belonged with him.
Chapter 25
“I’m going to London.”
Neill made the announcement at supper, waiting for his brother’s censure. Two days had passed since his return from Edinburgh. Two days of keeping himself from Kathryn, knowing they were a heartbeat away from the kind of encounter that could not be undone.
For as much as they belonged together, he would not take her virginity until he had freed himself from his obligation. His brother’s words continued to haunt him.
Kenshire. Bristol. Brockburg. Clave. We will all be affected by your choice.
Neill had been taught to be loyal, a king’s man, and yet it infuriated him that Edward had not removed Caxton long ago, without his intervention. As always, the north was treated as a distant concern when compared with the south. The monarch had more interest in France than he did in the top half of his country.
The Knight's Reward (Border Series Book 10) Page 16
