Unbreakable Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 2)

by Griffin, Kara

  Chapter One

  Dumfries, Scotland

  Early March, 1307

  From the dark, dank mist they appeared at the top of the hill. Four men sat upon their warhorses, peering down upon Sweetheart Abbey. They could be likened to the devil’s brethren, garbed in black attire, and their faces, arms, and weapons covered with oiled soot. Their camouflage aided them for they didn’t want anyone to recognize them.

  Liam Kincaid was the first to take the incline. Onward he rode toward the abbey where their good friend, Friar Hemm, awaited. He and his comrades dismounted and left their steeds free since they didn’t plan to stay long.

  “Oh, my, ‘tis highly improper. You cannot come inside garbed as you are.” Hemm stood between the struts of the threshold, blocking their entrance.

  Liam braced his hips with his fists and grinned. “But Friar, you said it was important.”

  “Aye, he did say that, didn’t he?” Graeme, his good comrade, said with a chortle.

  “B-but for you to c-come here dressed as if you’ve been w-warring … ‘Tis highly improper indeed. I cannot allow ye to come inside. This is a place of sanctuary, a holy place. God’s own home.”

  Brodin, the most ominous of their group, frowned. “Do you want our help or not, Friar?”

  “Aye, we’ve traveled afar and are in need of rest.” Heath leaned against the stone, his gaze as irritated, and his sigh wearisome. “We spent a fortnight hunting a thief. By God, that’s all we seem to do of late, herding missing sheep.”

  Liam agreed, for lately their missions were frivolous ventures. He’d rather take up his sword than search for petty thieves and stolen cattle.

  “I must ask that you at least wash your faces before you come inside. You’ll scare the monks, for they don’t know you like I do.” The friar motioned to a young lad and said something in his ear.

  Liam liked Friar Hemm because he often aided them and kept their guarded secrets. Though the friar was young, he was well received by the Scottish nobles and clans in the area. He thought the man too pious but since that was his profession, he kept his opinion to himself. Something bothered Hemm, if his worrisome mien didn’t give him away, his shifty body did.

  The young lad/monk returned with a bucket and cloths, saying nothing as he handed them over to Hemm. He held them outward. “Wash well, m’lords, and when you are done, come to my office.” He turned hastily and left them.

  Liam was the first to take the cloth. “Let us wash so we can see what’s bothering him. I’ve never seen Hemm look so troubled.”

  “Me neither,” Graeme said, when he handed him the cloth.

  “I need to ask the friar if I can borrow one of his stable lads.” Liam dried his face with the underside of his tunic.

  Brodin took the cloth from Graeme and scowled. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Serious about what?” Graeme asked.

  “I want to send a message to my cousin Micheol. My service is ending and I want to secure my father’s lands.” Liam only had one month to go before his service to Robert the Bruce ended. For five long years, he’d given his existence to the future, now king of Scotland.

  “Even if you obtain the lands, Liam, there’s no way you can return. We’re all bound to Robert until he gives us leave. We promised to aid him in the reclaiming of Scotland.” Heath took the cloth from Brodin and ran it over his face.

  “Aye, but I want to secure the lands so when we’re freed of our vow I have a place to return to. You all have homes and land. You, Graeme, are laird of the Camerons and secured your right to return and rule.”

  Graeme set a hand on his shoulder. “I understand your reasons, Liam. Are you certain Micheol will return the lands to you?”

  Liam wasn’t certain of anything, especially since his uncle Mormaer, the Earl of Lennox, died at Falkirk. When he heard the report of his uncle’s death, he was disheartened. Their last encounter was contentious, and he’d disappointed his uncle. He’d regretted their discord. “I will speak with him and find out.”

  “Let us firstly find out what the good friar wants,” Brodin said, and pushed them aside so he could enter.

  Liam followed his comrades and was the last to enter Hemm’s office. Hemm paced behind his desk and gave them a fleeting glance.

  “I’m gladdened ye came so quickly for I’ve the most distressing news.” The friar appeared apprehensive when he fiddled with a pile of parchments sitting on his desk.

  Graeme stepped forward. “What troubles you, Friar? We’ll be happy to assist you in the matter, whatever it is.”

  “’Tis terrible business, just awful. I cannot even mouth the words.” He tossed the handful of missives across his desk and fell back into his chair with a dejected sigh.

  Liam leaned against the desk, as did Heath and Brodin, curious now to know what could be so daunting.

  Graeme pulled a chair forward and sat next to the friar. “What aid do you need?”

  “It’s gone, by God, what am I to do?”

  His impatience wore, and Liam banged the desk. “Friar, we really need to get home. We just spent a fortnight tracking a shanty thief. We aim to get some rest.” It was the truth, for they’d taken a job to aid a nearby farmer. Although the job wasn’t well paying, they decided to help the farmer since they had nothing else to occupy them. What a deplorable way to earn a living. Liam wasn’t content with their recent excursions. Likewise, neither were his comrades.

  “The friar needs our help. We will wait until he is good and ready to speak of his problem. Obviously he’s distressed.” Graeme gave him an irritated glance, and set a comforting hand on the Hemm’s shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, Friar. We’re not in a rush.”

  Liam nodded slightly in agreement, but if the man didn’t get on with it, he’d be resigned to leave and return when he was ready. Hemm looked ready to weep.

  “What’s gone? Have you lost something?” Liam couldn’t help asking, since it was apparent Hemm wasn’t ready to divulge his woes.

  “Aye, well, I didn’t lose it. It was taken, stolen if ye can believe that. Hell’s hounds. That loggerheaded lad deserves nothing but the fires of… Oh, my, Good Lord. Now I am blaspheming like a commoner. I shall need to pray.” He made the sign of the cross and gazed at his lap.

  Liam almost laughed and turned to grin at his comrades. The friar was devout, more so than any man he’d ever met. He’d never heard Hemm speak so blatantly or honestly before. The harsh words made Hemm appear more like a man rather than a God-fearing clergyman.

  When he looked up, Hemm frowned. “I was bid by Robert the Bruce to keep the document pertaining to Comyn’s deceit hidden for safekeeping. I’m afraid one of my monks, a young man named Matthew, took it. For he’s missing and so is the parchment.”

  Liam’s muscles tightened in his jaw at hearing the friar’s problem. “You mean the parchment that proved Comyn went against his and Robert’s agreement? The very reason we’re all hiding from the Bruce? The reason Robert killed Comyn?”

  Hemm nodded. “Aye, that parchment. And I cannot let the Bruce know it is gone. He’ll be wrath, definitely infuriated. What am I to do? How can I tell our king I lost the only evidence he had to prove Comyn deceived him? If he needs it to appease England’s king for his treasonous act …”

  “Why would the young monk, Matthew, take it?” Heath asked.

  “I know not. Perhaps he’s in league with the Comyns. They’d do whatever they must to refute Comyn’s misdeed against the Bruce and gain King Edward’s approval. I shouldn’t have trusted him inside my domain. What was I thinking? What am I to tell the Bruce? I fear he’ll be upset by this news. The king has quite significant issues to deal with, especially when he returns from his winter retreat.”

  Brodin nudged him, and Liam raised a brow. He signaled to Heath, who pressed the back of his hand against Graeme’s shoulder. He got the message.

  Graeme rose and returned the chair to the wall where it had sat when they entered. “Worry not, Friar
. We’ll find this Matthew and the parchment and will have it returned to you at the soonest.”

  “You will do this for me?”

  Liam smiled at the man’s astonishment. “Of course, Friar, you’ve helped us many times. We’re pleased to do you this favor. And besides, we returned to aid our king. We’ll find this Matthew and reclaim the parchment. Have no worry.” He suspected the young monk was hired by, or kin to the Comyn clan. Why else would he take the parchment? Unless he spied for the English. The latter was doubtful since only a few knew of the missive’s existence. Only those in Hemm’s chamber at present, and the rest murdered for what they’d witnessed, were privy to its contents.

  Heath leaned his hip against the desk. “Robert was wrath when he learned that Comyn betrayed him. We need to find that parchment.”

  “Aye, and Comyn never denied his backstab against Robert. Of course Robert held the proof of Comyn’s deceit in his hands.” Brodin said, as he leaned back against the wall.

  Graeme added his insight, “I’ve never seen Robert’s temper flare to such a degree. That he would do the unthinkable and kill his only rival to the crown …”

  That night at Greyfriars Abbey crossed Liam’s mind repeatedly. “If only we could’ve interceded before Robert acted, we wouldn’t have had to flee with him and been exiled. I still can’t believe he left us on that isle to rot when he returned to Scotland.”

  Brodin scoffed. “Aye, there to perish, but we all pledged to see him take the crown. Now that he has, we must keep his arse safe. Protecting him has and will continue to be our sole purpose, at least until he forgives us for disobeying his command.”

  Graeme leaned his arms on the back of the chair. “He will when he learns how we’ve aided him and if he doesn’t, so be it. At least we aid Scotland as well.”

  Friar Hemm continued to nod at their discussion. “You must continue to hide for your safety. How will you find the parchment? I shouldn’t ask this of you. ‘Tis too dangerous.”

  Each of them grinned.

  Liam rubbed his tired face and looked at his comrades. “We live with danger every day, Friar.” He, along with his friends, was adamant about seeing to Robert’s protection, especially during battles. There was one wee problem with that, and that was if Robert learned they’d disregarded his command to stay on the isle, they’d be held as treason against the crown.

  With their necks in the proverbial noose so to speak, they hid and kept abreast of the king’s matters from afar. Robert would eventually return from his self-imposed winter refuge and get back to the task of bringing his enemies to justice.

  With all that happened in the previous years of fighting with the English king and his supporters, the Bruce wanted retribution. That vengeance was called for the murders of Wallace, Moray, and the deaths of many of their comrades and allies. But most of all, it was necessary for the heinous acts taken against Robert’s family who were still held captive or murdered in the most gruesome ways.

  Graeme shoved his shoulder, drawing his attention. Liam caught the end of their conversation.

  “We’ll go in search of Matthew, Friar. I’ll let you know any news when I can. Don’t despair. Even if the Comyns take possession of the parchment, I doubt Robert will give a shit. For he’s king and nothing will change that now.”

  Friar Hemm gave Graeme a reproachful look. “Watch your words, Graeme Cameron. One of us must pray this day for his blasphemy. I wouldn’t want you to have to join me in the chapel.”

  Heath guffawed and Brodin grinned. He too found Hemm’s comment somewhat humorous. They weren’t as devout as the friar and often said what they wanted without restraint or fear of spending time in a chapel.

  “We must depart.” Graeme headed to the exit of the office door.

  Friar Hemm walked them to the stables, continually thanking them for their help.

  Liam followed behind the group, his mind on his own troubles. Outside, the day declined and night crept ever forward. Dusk settled on the land and would make their ride home less daunting. Being unseen in the dark was their specialty, for they’d often covered themselves with the oiled soot to disguise themselves. Graeme had taught them the ancient ritual, along with various fighting skills of a renowned Germanic tribe his grandfather had heard about during the crusades.

  Since the friar made them wash away their concealment, they’d at least have the cover of night to hide themselves during the ride home.

  “Friar, before we go, I need to send a message to my cousin, the Earl of Lennox. Can I send one of your stable lads?” Liam took a piece of parchment from his saddlebag and wrote a quick note asking for Micheol to meet him at Caerlaverock’s village. He didn’t put his name to it and only signed it with: Your cousin, L.

  Hemm called forth a lad who was just as tall as he. Liam handed him the missive and gave him instructions. Their group was ready to head out, and Liam was anxious to reach the caves where they’d made their home.

  Along the way, he thought about his cousin and hoped he’d be willing to come and meet him. His cousin never was an affable sort and disliked him for some reason. Liam wanted to secure his father’s lands and would likely have to kiss Micheol’s arse to do so. Much time passed since he’d had the scuffle with his uncle over his chosen bride. As the years passed, he matured and realized a woman wasn’t worth losing lands over. Given said woman never professed to love him in return.

  He hated to admit it, but his uncle was right. He’d been senseless then and regrettably, there was nothing to do now but set it to right. His recklessness lost him his inheritance. Liam wished he could go back and not refute his uncle’s will. If given the choice now, he would’ve accepted the bride his uncle chose. But it was too late, for he’d set his fate that day.

  They reached the outlying area before the caves and stopped at the second hillock where they stabled their horses. For their horse’s security, they didn’t allow their steeds to run freely. Mainly because the warhorses cost them a good deal of coin. Once the horses were in the makeshift wooden stalls, they set about bedding them down.

  Graeme removed the harness from his horse and scowled fiercely.

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you troubled by Hemm’s request?”

  “Nay, but I got a sense something isn’t right. We should get moving, for the women expected us days earlier. I worry about Kerrigan.”

  Kerrigan, Graeme’s wife, was a sweet-natured woman whom they cared for as if she were their own sister. He suspected Graeme’s worry was for the simple reason his wife would soon give birth to their bairn.

  “And well you should. She is huge, Graeme. Maybe she’s got two inside her.” He laughed because when they’d last seen her, Kerrigan’s stomach protruded as if she’d swallowed a large boulder. His comrade didn’t appreciate his jest and shoved his chest.

  “For the love of God, speak not. She better be well.” Graeme paled.

  Liam took the saddle from his friend, and tossed his chin to tell him to get going. His comrade loved his wife. Liam wouldn’t declare his love to a woman again. The one woman he’d given his heart to never returned the gesture. Of course, he’d been young then, and foolish. Still, he wouldn’t allow his heart to be easily swayed. He’d hardened his heart, and now with all his regrets, it was nearly unbreakable.

  He, Brodin, and Heath finished settling their horses. As he exited the cave, snowflakes drifted from the sky and spotted the ground. This night, they’d be warm and wouldn’t be exposed to the elements. Liam walked behind them and headed toward the cave when a cat stood in front of him. The feline stroked its body against his leg and meowed. He brushed the cat aside with his foot, and strolled into the cave. He didn’t see Kerrigan and suspected she must have retired for the night.

  It smelled good inside. Annag, the old woman who came with Kerrigan, must’ve made a meal. His stomach rumbled at the delicious scent permeating the cave. All they’d eaten in the past weeks was hard bread and the meat of whatever animal they’d hunted. He was gl
addened to be home. That was until he noticed the look on Graeme’s face when he stumbled from the antechamber.

  Liam poured himself a bowl of stew and snatched a cup of warm mead. He set the bowl and cup on the table, and chuckled. His humor drew Heath and Brodin’s attention.

  “What gives?” Brodin asked.

  “What’s so humorous?” Heath asked.

  He nodded at Graeme who paced near the open hearth, his hands gripping his hair. “She’s laboring. For all that is holy, I swear, she best make it through this. I’ll be lost without her.”

  Heath set a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Graeme, she’ll be well. Rest easy. Women give birth all the time and survive.”

  “Not all,” Liam said, but then shoved a spoonful of stew in his mouth when each of his comrades scowled at him.

  Heath scoffed at his blatant remark. “That reminds me, I still hold the coin. What say you we wager on the sex? Brodin? I say the bairn will be a boy.”

  Brodin derided with a chortle. “Nay, I promised, we all did, never to wager on anything related to Kerrigan.”

  Liam was ravenous; he practically shoveled the stew in his mouth. He saw the cat had followed him inside and settled near the warm hearth. Without much ado, he set the remains of his stew on the floor for the creature who sauntered toward him as if he were a lord.

  His friends continued to tease Graeme about his impending fatherhood, and he grinned at their conversation. He recalled them making such a promise never to wager the coin on any matter concerning Kerrigan. The coin had been brought back from the crusades from Graeme’s grandfather, and a remarkable tale was told about its legacy. He’d used it to sway two rival clans to join together to defeat their foes in the holy wars.

  Graeme used it in the same way, helping to bring him, Brodin, Heath, and Liam to brotherhood. Yet, the day they were exiled with the Bruce pretty much secured their fate and their devotion to one another.