“Fergus MacGillivray was the chieftain entrusted with guardianship of Airdfinnan,” Iain supplied, “which was held by the King of the Isles and considered to be key to the defense of the west. He had two sons, the eldest of which fell ill when he stood on the verge of manhood. Angus, the younger, departed on crusade to ensure his brother’s salvation and was never heard of again.”
“And both father and brother died shortly thereafter,” Duncan told her, “leaving Airdfinnan in the trusteeship of the local monastery which Fergus had seen founded and well-endowed.”
Eglantine shook her head in confusion. “But what has this to do with Jacqueline?”
“It has more to do with your spouse, my lady, and the bloodthirsty clan into which you foolishly chose to wed,” Rodney said with determination. “For Angus is not dead, and he has returned. He knows that his father and brother were murdered, and this by the dictate of Cormac MacQuarrie. He knows that clan MacQuarrie are the true holders of Airdfinnan, though they hide behind the mask of the monks who perform their will.”
“Why would anyone do as much?” Duncan asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.
“To avoid intervention by the King of the Isles, of course. ’Twas he who granted it to Fergus, after all. But that king will not attack a monastery to reclaim the holding, especially if the monks insist they hold the estate in trust for its legal heir. On the other hand, if clan MacQuarrie were to make an overt claim upon the property, ’twould be short-lived, from what I know of this king.”
“Nonsense!” Duncan sheathed his blade. “I know naught of such a scheme,” he declared.
“Nor do I,” Iain claimed.
“And if such a plot ever existed, then I had no part in it then and have no influence in its outcome now.”
“You lie!” Rodney shouted.
Duncan opened his mouth to argue the matter, his hand falling to his hilt again. The mercenary reached for his own blade, but Eglantine placed a hand on her husband’s arm. She rose to her feet and addressed Rodney. “If the monks hold the estate in trust for Angus MacGillivray, why does he not petition them for its release?”
“He has done so,” Rodney declared. “And was turned from the gates. They insisted he could not be who he is, and when he insisted upon it, weapons were drawn upon us. We barely escaped with our lives, which says much indeed about the honest intent of peoples in this land.” He stepped forward and shook his fist. “’Tis this that shows the lie behind their deed! If they held Airdfinnan for him in truth, then ’twould already have been surrendered to him. Nay, there is another in command who does not wish Angus alive, one who sees much gain from this ruse, this much is clear!”
“And where is this Angus now?” Eglantine demanded tightly. “Why does he not plead his own case?”
Rodney smiled. “I would not expect a woman to understand the complexities haunting a hunted man. If ’tis easier for Angus to be dead, and if ’tis the MacQuarrie clan who would prefer him to be so, he would have to be much slower of wit than he is to walk directly into that clan’s own hall.”
“So he seized my daughter, like a common brigand, to see his holding surrendered to him in exchange,” Eglantine guessed.
Rodney bowed mockingly. “You are most astute for a woman.”
“I thought you said he was a knight.”
“He is.”
“Yet if I recall, the vows made by a knight involve the protection of those unable to protect themselves and the defense of women.”
The mercenary’s eyes narrowed. “Your daughter is uninjured.”
“I do not share your faith in the honor of criminals. Nor do I put much credence in your word.”
Rodney’s eyes flashed. “My companion is a knight, a man of valor and honor, a man who departed upon crusade to save his family from ill fortune and instead found only more for himself.”
He turned, appealing to the assembly who hung on his every word. “Angus MacGillivray fought valiantly in the Holy Land, believing he was ensuring his family’s salvation. He was imprisoned and tormented, yet when he finally found his way home again, ’twas to find his legacy stolen and his family murdered without remorse.”
He held out his hands. “What reward has he for all his sacrifice? Can any man blame Angus for pursuing justice for his own blood, for seeking vengeance against those who ensured the death of innocents and the theft of his inheritance?”
Rodney spun and jabbed a finger through the air at Eglantine. “Barring any foolishness on her own part, your daughter is as safe with him as by your own side, but she will remain with him until he wins the justice that he seeks. How dare you deny him the restoration of his rightful due? How dare you endanger your own child for the sake of a distant holding?”
“But...” Duncan began to protest, though Eglantine silenced him with a glance.
“How do we know you can be trusted?” she asked.
“I knew the MacGillivray family,” Iain supplied. “If indeed ’tis Angus returned, he was always said to be most like his father. That man was one who gave his word and clung to it, for better or for worse. Even my father acknowledged that Fergus was worthy of admiration, for the surety of his pledges if not his claims to property.”
“Oh,” Eglantine sat back and considered the cold-eyed mercenary before her. She had a sudden sense that something good might come of this, that Jacqueline being alone with a man of upright character might not be something that should be hastened to its end.
To be sure, she was still worried about her daughter and she was still intent upon ensuring her daughter’s welfare, though she could not help but wonder whether there had been some miraculous intervention in Jacqueline’s plans.
In her own homeland, ’twas not uncommon for knights to seize a woman of their choice. Once they had bedded the demoiselle, the woman’s father had no choice but to permit a marriage. Oft such marriages would not have happened otherwise, the father of the bride more intent upon the wealth of the potential husband, not his age.
Young knights seldom were granted permission to wed, purely because their holdings were as yet small—and ’twas not unknown for the woman in question to have departed willingly with her captor. Many such events were less a rape than a merry liaison intended to achieve the couple’s own ends.
Eglantine did not imagine that her daughter would have welcomed any knight’s advances, nor that Jacqueline would willingly warm the man’s bed, but she did wonder about the motives of the knight in question.
Would it not be perfect if the last man Jacqueline met before her retreat to the convent was the one man of honor who could open her heart?
Eglantine had to know more to assess whether hers was just a mother’s hopeful conclusion.
“Do come to the board, Rodney, and partake of a cup of ale.” She smiled even as Duncan eyed her uncertainly. I would have you tell me more of this knight you serve.” Two men escorted Rodney to the barrel of ale and ensured he was served, thus giving Eglantine and Duncan a moment to converse.
“To better measure this mercenary’s worth?” Duncan mused in an undertone.
“To better know this knight Angus MacGillivray,” she whispered. “He sounds to have a certain promise.”
Duncan shook his head. “Eglantine, you are much concerned with matters of nuptials and happiness, perhaps too concerned.”
“You know my view of this convent choice.”
“Aye, and you may speak aright. But you may not. The proof will lie in Angus’ deeds, not in the words of his man,” Duncan muttered.
“But you cannot surrender Airdfinnan, for we do not hold it.”
“If this one speaks aright, then this Angus has a legitimate cause for complaint. If that is so, then I shall find a way to aid him, to ensure that his legacy is restored.”
Eglantine watched her spouse, admiring yet again his uncommon desire to see matters resolved fairly. “It may cost us dearly.”
“Justice seldom comes to those unprepared to strive for it.”
“But I would not have you harmed! And I would have Jacqueline safe.”
Duncan clasped her hand in his and gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze. “He will take me to Jacqueline afore I tell him anything further and I shall ensure her health and welfare herself. That is the first matter to be resolved and ’tis only once that is resolved that we will see what else we might do in aid.”
“I will go with you.”
“You will not.” Duncan granted Eglantine a stern look. “Rest assured that if so much as a single hair of Jacqueline’s is harmed, neither of these men will live to see another dawn.”
“You are most fiercely protective of your women, Duncan.” Eglantine smiled at her spouse. “I knew there was a reason I loved you so.”
“It shall all end aright, Eglantine,” he murmured as Rodney approached the board. “I shall ensure it.”
And she knew that he would, for her spouse was a man of uncommon resolve.
Chapter Twelve
As Jacqueline had suspected, it began to rain before midday. The first drops fell heavily, splattering cold against their faces. They bowed their heads against the rising wind, and rode onward. Jacqueline did not ask for shelter for ’twas clear there was none upon this empty road.
’Twas not long before they were soaked and indeed, the wind rose with such vigor that ’twas difficult to see much of the road ahead. Lucifer did not falter, though Jacqueline could feel displeasure with circumstance in the beast’s tight gait.
Jacqueline shivered and Angus drew his cloak around her. Enfolding her in the wet wool did little to ease her woes, though the heat of his own body was most welcome. He wrapped his arm around her and she buried her face in his shoulder, shivering with the chill. She huddled against him and hoped that ’twas not far to Airdfinnan.
They rode in silence for the better part of the day and ’twas only when the sky darkened that Angus slowed Lucifer. Jacqueline glanced up to find him scanning the undergrowth on either side and dared to hope for shelter.
“Is Airdfinnan near?”
“Nay.”
“Then what do you seek?”
“A path.”
Jacqueline gritted her teeth, for he was clearly not in a mood to share any of his carefully guarded secrets. “A path to what?”
A smile touched his lips fleetingly. “You will see.”
He clicked his tongue and urged the steed to one side of the road. There was no discernible path, at least not to Jacqueline’s eye, but once the beast stepped through the first barrier of thickly meshed undergrowth, she did see a faint thinning of plants. It looked to have been trodden by many footsteps, though the wild state of the surrounding vegetation hinted that it had been long since any had come this way.
Indeed, Angus dismounted to peer more closely at the ground and guide the horse onward. More than once, Jacqueline could not guess whether the way branched left or right. She wondered whether Angus could see the truth either, for he tended to straighten at these places and look around himself, as though seeking a recollection in the shape of the trees.
It seemed the rain halted when they entered the forest, though ’twas only that the canopy of leaves far overhead broke the onslaught. ’Twas a relief nonetheless and the sound of dripping water echoed from all sides.
The land rose rapidly once they left the main road and stones quickly intermingled with the dirt underfoot. They ascended with every step, Lucifer needing encouragement from his master when the way was very steep.
Jacqueline watched Angus, impressed by the care he showed in ensuring that the steed always had a solid footing. Indeed, the way behind them was precariously steep and she resolved to not look back. Angus spoke to the destrier constantly, his words so low that Jacqueline could not make them out, though his tone soothed her uncertainties as well. ’Twas no wonder the beast would follow his master wherever he led.
The wind began to buffet them as they climbed and Jacqueline had glimpses of the brooding sky through the thinning tops of the trees. A sheer rock face appeared suddenly before them and she feared they had taken the wrong course. But Angus led the stallion to the right and now she saw a path clearly etched in the stone. It ran along the face of the rock, dropping away to the forest floor to the right.
Lucifer saw it as well, though he balked at continuing upon it. Angus stroked the steed’s nose and murmured in its ear. The beast shuddered, but when Angus stepped forward again, Lucifer folded his ears back and followed dutifully. They went not a dozen steps and the rock face to her left opened into a cave. Lucifer needed no encouragement to duck inside its shelter and Jacqueline herself smiled in relief.
“You knew this place!”
“Aye, I remembered it.”
“But it must be years since you have been here.”
“Or anyone else, for that matter.” He lifted her from the saddle with his usual courtesy, then peered around the cave. It was of a fair size, though it had no ending, for clearly it was but a gateway to a tunnel. Jacqueline eyed the shadowed opening, noting how it dipped downward and shivered.
“It could be a portal to hell,” she muttered.
“’Twas what my brother always said.”
“You came here with him?”
“We played here as boys.” He winked at her with unexpected mischief. “Though we were forbidden to do so.”
Jacqueline studied the tunnel opening again. “I would imagine you dared each other to enter that tunnel, and that you told each other tall tales of what you found there.”
Angus snorted and smiled briefly, as though in recollection, though he typically admitted naught. He unsaddled the destrier, running a hand over the beast’s wet flesh with evident concern. His gaze flicked over the barren cave and Jacqueline guessed his dilemma.
“Will Lucifer let me wield the brush?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know how to brush down a horse, and I know that this one has need of such grooming. He might become ill after working in such foul weather. My mother always says ’tis easier to keep a horse healthy than to heal it once it falls ill.”
“’Tis true enough.”
“And we could all have use of a fire, though there is naught here with which to begin one. If I tend your steed, you might begin a fire.”
Her practicality seemed to amuse Angus, though Jacqueline could not imagine why. ’Twas only good sense.
“Are you ordering my labor?”
“Nay, I am offering my aid, that we all might rest in comfort sooner.” She stretched out her hand, in silent request for the brush. Lucifer snuffled her palm, mistaking her gesture, then snorted to find no treat for him there.
Angus placed the brush within her palm, eying the difference between her stature and that of the destrier. “I shall finish what you cannot reach,” he said. A gleam of something flickered in his gaze and she thought he might tease her again, but then he sobered, drew his cloak about him and stepped out into the rain once more.
Jacqueline, intent on proving herself useful as well as a woman who could be relied upon, set to her task. She need not have feared the destrier’s disapproval, for ’twas clear he loved to be groomed. He leaned into the brush with such vigor that he nigh flattened her against the wall of the cave, so great was his delight.
Jacqueline worked diligently, more aware of her solitude in this chilly cave than she had expected. ’Twas that dark hole that drew her gaze time and again. She recalled more than one tall tale of ogres lurking in the shadows, waiting only for their intended victims to fall asleep before revealing themselves and wreaking their havoc. The rain fell in sheets outside the cave opening, not a sound from any other than Jacqueline and Lucifer carrying to her ears.
It seemed that Angus was gone overlong. Aye, in a moment like this, all of Duncan’s tales seemed more a liability than ever they had before.
Angus returned when Jacqueline was standing on the removed saddle so that she might reach Lucifer’ back. The leather was slick, both w
ith use and moisture, and her footing precarious as a result. He startled her when he abruptly dumped wood upon the rocky floor. She jumped, yelped and slipped.
Angus swore even as he caught her around the waist. “I told you that I would finish the task.”
“What else was I to do?” she snapped, as troubled by his touch as that he had seen her fall.
“Wait?” he suggested, a suspicious thread of humor in his tone.
Jacqueline pushed his hands away and turned to survey him. “Did you find dry wood in this storm?”
“Nay, but some that is dryer than most. ’Twill smoke, no doubt, but...”
“’Twill be better than naught,” she concluded, knowing full well what he intended to say. Angus looked startled and she shrugged. “’Tis what you always say. Clearly, you have made do with what you had on more than one occasion and learned to be grateful for it. ’Tis not such a bad trait to be resourceful.”
If he was pleased or insulted by her words, Jacqueline could not tell. He then proved to be more resourceful than she had believed. He removed a collection of kindling from his saddlebag that had not been there when she checked his supplies this morn.
“There was rain in the wind,” he said at her questioning glance, then set to shredding it with his knife.
’Twas not long before he struck the flint, and not long after that that a fire burned. The newly collected wood did smoke, but it dried enough by the time the kindling was consumed that it continued to burn. Angus arranged the other logs around the fire that they might dry somewhat before they were needed.
He straightened and brushed his hands together. “There is a chemise in the saddlebag. Shed your wet clothes and don it while I am gone.”
“What of you?”
“I have a snare to check.”
And he was gone once more.
But Jacqueline had one task to do while she was still sodden. She ducked out into the rain and gathered small plants with haste. She recognized a number that also grew at Ceinn-beithe and which her mother favored for fodder for their palfreys and ponies. She gathered as much as she could carry, dropped them inside the cave, then repeated her task twice more, for she knew that a stallion could eat a fearsome amount.
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