The Saint

by Allison Butler

  He’d also been standing close enough, too close now he thought back, to not have missed the subtle shifting of her delicate features from annoyance to pleasure and finally to concern. Once he’d witnessed every change of her expression, he knew they needed to leave and quickly. The sooner she arrived at the priory, the clearer everything would be for them both.

  The rumble of galloping hooves thundered from behind. Cal peered over his shoulder but due to the bend in the path they rode, he couldn’t see the approaching riders. It didn’t matter. He could take no chances. Snaking an arm about Isla’s middle, he pulled her back against his body. ‘Someone comes.’ He steered Mungo across the grassy ground separating the road and the tiny village situated a short distance to the left.

  The image of Morgan’s sneer flashed through his head. Had he rounded up his band of rebels, or met up with his father and rode after them? No one had seen them leave the clearing, Cal had made sure of that.

  The rumble grew louder. The village’s kirk loomed closer but Cal wasn’t certain they would make it behind the sandstone church before the riders broke from the trees. A great stone slab stood in the kirkyard behind a low stone wall, closer than the kirk itself. Time was running out. They needed to find a place to hide and quickly. They neared the slab. Cal took one final look over his shoulder and saw the first horse appear. There wasn’t time for them to find shelter behind the kirk.

  Using his knees and the reins, Cal pulled Mungo up fast and steered his mount behind the stone slab he silently prayed was tall and wide enough to conceal them. There was no time to dismount. Mungo stilled close to the standing stone, lowered his head and remained unmoving. Isla sat small and quiet in the saddle, her knuckles white where they strangled the pommel. Cal leaned forward to ensure he couldn’t be seen over the top of the stone and peered to the left in the direction the riders were heading.

  Numerous hooves, at least six horses by Cal’s calculations, thundered along the road they’d been travelling. He hoped none of the riders took too much of an interest in the kirk or stone slab and looked too closely. Hand on hilt, the other covering the backs of hers, he waited for the hooves to slow and change direction. He slowed his heartbeat and cleared his mind of all else, preparing for the fight to come, if they did. Thanks be to God, the sound rumbled on, none straying from the path.

  By the time the sound of running horses had faded, Cal peered around from behind the stone to see all that remained was a spreading cloud of dust. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes to the cloud-scattered sky above. He lowered his chin and spoke to the woman who sat as still and silent as the stone concealing them. ‘The riders have gone.’

  Isla’s rigid form relaxed back into his chest and he enjoyed the feel of her against him.

  ‘Did ye see who they were?’

  ‘It was Morgan and his men.’

  The tension he’d only just witnessed leave her body returned in an instant. He missed the feel of her. ‘I’ll never let him hurt you, Isla.’

  A deep sigh lifted her upper body and her shoulders once again pressed softly against his chest. ‘I know.’

  Her trust in him sent a surge of warmth throughout his body. He wanted to take her in his arms—

  ‘Where are we?’

  Perfectly timed, Isla’s query saved him from leaning closer, over her shoulder and inhaling her scent. They couldn’t reach the priory soon enough.

  Leaning back in the saddle, creating distance between his body and her tempting form, Cal looked at the stone slab that had shielded them from view. ‘We’re behind a stone in the kirkyard of a small village. Come, we’ll take a short rest.’ Cal dismounted and reached for Isla’s slender waist.

  ‘It must be an enormous stone for us to hide behind.’

  He set Isla on her feet and released her. Giving Mungo a gentle nudge to move to one side, Cal took his first full look at the slab. ‘It is.’ He set his gaze to the topmost part of the stone that met as a point in the centre before tapering down evenly to the thick sides. He glanced at Isla’s profile, her head turned off to one side, as if she waited for him to share what he saw with her. He looked off to the left again to make certain the riders hadn’t changed their minds and weren’t coming back anytime soon and looked back at Isla.

  ‘Here, take my arm.’ He set her hand on his forearm and guided her to stand next to the stone.

  The detail carved into the stone was something the likes of which Cal had never seen before. The silent figures told the story of a battle fought long ago, but one that someone believed needed to be shared and remembered. Cal wanted Isla to share in the awe he was feeling at this moment but worried his description of the stone and its tale would leave much to be desired.

  His gaze lowered to the hand resting on his forearm. With his focus on the wonder of the stone he’d forgotten her hand was still there. Not dismissed, but as it should be, as if having her holding onto him was somehow right. The notion unsettled him as it always did, but each time, moreover this time, the need to withdraw himself from her touch and put distance between them was less and his stomach didn’t clench as tightly as it had each time before.

  Cal settled the palm of his hand over the back of hers and lifted it toward the stone slab. ‘Here, move closer and feel the stone for yourself.’ Isla did as he bid and took a step forward. He gently pressed her hand against the slab and heard the small gasp she made and experienced her flinch before her palm settled fully on the stone.

  ‘It feels cold.’ Her chin lifted and turned toward him.

  Cal removed his hand from hers and touched the stone for himself. ‘Aye, it does.’ With the sun already lowering on the opposite side of the slab, Cal wondered if the stone ever absorbed any heat.

  Her fingers slowly shifted over the standing stone. ‘Cold and coarse.’ Her other hand joined the first in appraising the individual carvings. ‘So much work.’

  ‘The stone looks old and is of a red-grey hue. It stands a head taller than I. The carvings are magnificent and appear to be of a battle scene. There are bareheaded men with thick and plentiful hair on the left. They are looking toward those on the right who are wearing helmets with nose guards. Most carry shields and different weapons. Some are with swords, while others carry spears. Many are mounted, but the horses on each side are different. Those on the left have long flowing tails, while the ones on the right have been cut short.’

  Cal had no clue as to how long the stone had stood in this place or who had done the carvings. His gaze wondered over the top again, drinking in each scene on his way down to the right side of the lowest section where the figure of a man, larger than the others, was lying down, apparently dead, while a raven tore at the flesh of his unprotected throat.

  Heat clawed its way up inside Cal from his feet to his head. He turned from the scene to look at Isla, hoping she could shed some light on what he was seeing. But how could she, when she was blind? He looked back at the lower scene and took a step back and then another, trying to understand why this particular carving seemed familiar. He couldn’t think. Nothing made sense. He struggled to find his next breath.

  ‘Callum?’

  Someone called his name.

  ‘Cal, what is it?’

  Isla never called him Cal, always Callum. She was no longer learning the carvings on the stone slab. She was facing him, wearing a fierce frown he was sure matched the expression on his own face, as if he carried the weight of his muddled thoughts on his forehead alone.

  ‘Answer me, Callum.’ The gentle tone was lost beneath her growing concern.

  ‘I’m fine.’ He wasn’t, but Isla didn’t need to know.

  ‘Yer nae. Something is wrong. What is it?’

  Cal swallowed. How to respond without sounding weak.

  ‘Callum? Have the riders returned?’

  ‘Nae. Something about this stone is familiar.’

  The twin lines between her brows deepened, then slowly disappeared as her whole expression changed to one of hopef
ul expectation. She lifted her hands and pressed them against her chest. ‘Could this be the one ye’ve been searching for?’

  He looked at the carvings on the stone. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Oh, Callum. How will ye know for sure?’

  Cal drew a long breath. ‘This side of the stone is a battle scene, but I know I’ve seen it before. I’ve been searching for a cross.’

  Isla listened and nodded, her hands falling away from her chest to rest about her middle. She tilted her head. ‘What is on the other side?’

  ‘I dinnae ken.’ He didn’t. He’d been too busy finding them a place to hide.

  She nodded slowly again. ‘I wish I could look for ye, Callum, but …’ she stopped and attempted to laugh.

  He wished she could too. Not for his sake but for hers. She was a fine woman with a giving heart and deserved more.

  ‘Ye’ve been searching for so long, why do ye wait?’

  The softness of her voice only made the confusion she was feeling more obvious. God knew he was feeling confused too. ‘I dinnae ken.’ He’d suddenly lost the ability to respond with something different. ‘I never believed I’d find it.’ He’d been searching for almost a whole year. He’d thought about the cross for most of his life, yet now he stood before a stone slab that could possibly be the one that could offer him answers to questions he’d longed to know since he was a lad of four summers, his feet refused to move him around to the opposite side.

  ‘Do ye fear what ye might remember?’

  Cal searched his heart and soul and realised Isla understood his hesitation more than he did. ‘Aye, and what I might discover.’ Had he truly admitted to his fears out loud?

  ‘Ye dinnae need to look, Callum. But if ye choose nae to, be certain ye’ll nae regret walking away.’

  Deep down he knew he couldn’t walk away without looking.

  ‘I’ll come with ye.’ She held her hand out, palm up, offering her strength and support. ‘If ye want.’

  Cal stared at her slender fingers. He slipped his palm into hers and gently squeezed to show his gratitude. For the first time since he’d recalled the scene with the raven, a sense of anticipation set his heart to pounding. ‘Let’s have this done.’

  He lifted their linked hands higher and caught her elbow with the other and drew her closer to his side. With another deep breath, he guided them around the slab until they stood on the grassy ground before the stone.

  A cross had been carved into the stone, but it jutted out as if it had been placed there later. Swirling patterns and interlocked carvings covered the whole cross, while the rest of the stone area that wasn’t part of the cross itself was covered in carvings of serpents, horses and all manner of beasts. The carvings were beautiful. The cross unforgettable.

  Isla’s hand squeezed his. ‘Callum?’

  ‘I have hidden behind this stone cross before.’

  ‘Tell me what ye remember.’

  ‘I hid down low on the other side where the raven is carved.’ His gaze travelled over the cross once more. ‘Aye. This is the cross I’ve been searching for.’

  Cal turned his gaze to their joined hands, releasing her elbow but keeping hold of her hand, and lowered it between them. He looked at the woman beside him, chin raised, shoulders straight and proud as if she were about to do battle. For him.

  His heart clenched at the thought and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Isla. There was a powerful sense of rightness about standing so close to her, their hands joined, their purpose shared, and for the first time in his life Cal knew where he was and why he was here. He felt safe and whole and far from the lost lad he’d been so long ago. He wanted to hold her close and kiss her. Taste her sweet goodness and draw her into himself. The urge became too much to deny. He stepped in front of her and dropped her hand.

  ‘Isla.’ Her chin lifted higher at the sound of her name. ‘I need to kiss you.’

  Her mouth opened in surprise and closed just as quickly. ‘Then kiss me.’

  Cal cradled each side of her face with his hands and tilted her mouth up ready for his. She met his lips with a gentle pressure of her own, but having kissed her once before, softness wasn’t what he wanted this time round. He deepened the kiss by altering the angle of their mouths. Her lips opened under his, encouraging him to take more, to give back what she freely offered.

  She tasted of goodness and courage and strength and beauty, both inside and out. Cal savoured her essence but couldn’t drink deeply enough. He wanted more. Her hands reached around his back to pull him down more fully into her arms. He went, gladly, never wanting the feel of her against him, the taste of her, to end.

  ‘We dinnae want nae trouble here.’

  The gruff voice washed over Cal like a pail of icy loch water. He lifted his head and turned to see who had spoken. An older woman, with wispy hair the same colour as the blade of his sword, stood to one side holding a long-handled pitchfork boasting three curved and sharp-looking prongs, pointed directly at them.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Cal said. His wanton behaviour had been witnessed by another. ‘I could nae help myself.’ He straightened as he spoke, not certain who his words were meant for more, Isla or the woman who’d caught them kissing. He detached himself from Isla’s arms, stepped around to position her behind him and looked at the older woman.

  ‘Ah, young love is it?’ The woman turned her weapon so the prongs pointed up toward the sky and the wooden handle rested on the grassy ground. ‘Reminds me o’ me and my ’arry, God rest ’is soul.’

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Cal said, feeling the need to remark on ’arry’s passing.

  ‘Mmm!’ The woman openly looked Cal up and down and repeated her Mmm sound three times. ‘I saw ye and yer wife ’ide behind the stone there and thought ye were up to nae good.’

  Cal didn’t correct her about their relationship. If he did, how was he to explain the kiss she had interrupted? Thankfully, he silently added, but he need not have bothered for he already knew it to be a lie. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end and could only wonder what more they might have shared if the widow hadn’t come along. God help him.

  ‘We meant nae harm,’ Isla said from behind him. ‘There were riders and my husband … is very protective.’

  ‘Aye, I ken the type.’

  Cal had no idea if he should thank her or take offence. He held his silence.

  ‘We’ve been searching for a certain stone during our travels south and believe this is the one.’

  The upper half of the woman’s body tilted to the side in an attempt to see Isla as she said, ‘Yer nae the first to stop and look at our stones, but yer the first I’ve seen ’idin behind it, then kissin before it.’ She smiled and revealed she’d lost a tooth at some stage.

  ‘Do ye know anything about the stone?’ Isla asked, stepping further out into the open.

  ‘All I ken is it were ’ere long before meself or the kirk. There be another three like it, but this be the only one within the kirkyard.’

  ‘Thank ye … I’m sorry, what is yer name?’

  ‘I be Aggie, and ye are?’

  Hands found Cal’s lower back and skimmed along to his side.

  ‘I am pleased to meet ye, Aggie. My name is Isla.’

  She stood alongside him smiling across the way at a woman she didn’t know and couldn’t see.

  ‘I cannae believe ’e’s dragged ye aboot from pillar ta post on one ’orse looking fer one cross in ’undreds.’ Aggie threw her pitchfork to one side and hobbled over to take both of Isla’s hands in hers. ‘’Tis pleased I be ta meet ye.’

  * * *

  Cal watched Aggie cluck and fuss over Isla, something both women seemed to enjoy immensely. Once they learned the current priest was away and had only been at the kirk for the past ten years, Cal made to leave, but Aggie wouldn’t hear of them going anywhere until she’d filled both their bellies with a bowl of her vegetable soup.

  A sense of restlessness scored the soles of his feet. He left the two wo
men alone for a short time to ensure Mungo was saddled and ready to ride at a moment’s notice. Soon after, they mounted and waved a lonely Aggie goodbye, lessening Cal’s worry that their presence might here might bring trouble to the widow’s door.

  Cal had found the cross he’d spent almost a year looking for, but nothing else. The discovery only awakened more questions. Why had he and his mother been hiding behind the stone slab? Who had they been hiding from? Where had they gone once they left this place? Why couldn’t he remember more?

  So many unanswered questions. So many unknowns. But with Aggie’s direction, they knew for certain that they would reach Restenneth Priory before the sun went down. The knowledge tore Cal in two. One half of him was pleased he was close to fulfilling the promise he’d made to Isla’s father. It gave him hope that he was capable of achieving something he’d set out to do, even if it was for someone else and not for himself.

  The other half of him writhed in discontent that he and Isla would soon part ways. He didn’t want to be separated from her. It was as if that part of him had fused together with part of her and if they took different paths, Isla would take with her a generous portion of him.

  They didn’t speak, hadn’t exchanged a word since moving on. Isla sat still and straight before him, making him believe she was struggling with the knowledge that they would soon part ways. Or had she only been responding to him out of a heightened sense of danger or an awakening sense of curiosity? Cal didn’t know what to think or what to say. He feared if he did speak he’d tell her he needed to kiss her again. The last kiss they’d shared proved kissing her a third time wouldn’t be wise, else she’d keep an even larger part of him with her when he rode away.