‘Then I give him permission to do that, but please teach him to be gentle with her. She has a soft mouth you know. No one else had ever ridden her until we came here.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ Walter said with a chuckle and Isabella realised she had not heard him laugh, or even seen him smile, since Henry’s death.
Anna came to stay while Walter accompanied Sir William and his men to the next Truce Day which was to be over the Border. Isabella welcomed her company. Sir William promised to bring back a good supply of salt, as well as some French brandy from the French ships which came into the Solway ports. Isabella had used most of their stock of salt to preserve the beef from the animals which had been killed at the onset of winter. It saddened her, as it had Henry, when good animals were killed but it was impossible to provide enough food for all of them through the winter. Some would have died from starvation so it was wiser to store their meat.
Sir William had been back a week and Anna had returned home when Isabella’s baby came into the world almost without warning, at least in comparison to her arduous labour with the twins. It was mid -December.
‘I can’t believe he came so quickly,’ Isabella said to Lizzie, gazing down at the wrinkled and protesting little face cocooned in her arms.’
‘I’m glad he did, Mistress Isabella. Climbing all these stairs is getting too much for my old legs. He’s not very big but he has a fine pair o’ lungs on him.’
‘I do hope the milk will come so that I can feed him,’ Isabella said anxiously.
‘It will, but ye need to eat more. Since Master Henry died ye havena eaten enough to keep a mouse. The Master is worried about ye. He’s coming up to see ye and look over his wee grandson, when ye’ve had a sleep.’
‘I hope he will not be disappointed because he has black hair.’
‘Och, babies rarely keep their hair. Who can tell what colour he will be.’
‘He reminds me of my brother,’ Isabella mused, ‘though even he does not have hair as dark as this.’ She smoothed her baby’s head with a gentle finger.
‘He has your eyes,’ Lizzie said. ‘and the same thick dark lashes lying on his innocent wee cheeks. Henry and Zander would have been proud o’ him if they’d lived to see him.’
‘Don’t say that, Lizzie,’ Isabella gasped. ‘Zander is not dead.’
‘He might as well be dead. Nobody kens where to find him. He could have fallen off the edge o’ the world even though Father Oliver says ’tis round. He could be drowned in that great sea I’ve heard the Master talk about.’ Isabella didn’t reply. Lizzie’s ramblings depressed her and she closed her eyes to hide the tears which welled unexpectedly. In her own heart she had hoped Zander would return, however far he journeyed in foreign lands. She had not considered he might be dead.’
Sir William Douglas viewed his tiny grandson with satisfaction.
‘At last we have this wee fellow to carry on the name o’ the Douglas Clan,’ he said. ‘He looks like your brother, but so long as makes a good leader the colour of his hair willna matter. We much give him a name and ask the old priest to baptise him as soon as ye’re out of bed again. Shall we name him Henry?’
‘I considered that but Nettie’s name is really Henrietta.’
Nell came in bringing a cup of mead for her and a jug of ale for Sir William.
‘Lizzie says ye must drink this and it will make the milk come,’ she announced, handing the cup carefully to Isabella. ‘If ’tis names ye’re choosing Lizzie already calls him Alex. She says he reminds her of a baby called Alexander the way he guzzles and he’ll grow into a big healthy man.’
‘I expect she means Zander,’ Sir William said when Nell had gone. ‘Lizzie helped look after him when his mother died. He was a boy before I knew of him.’ He frowned. ‘Zander was the last person Henry called for before he died. Perhaps he would have liked his son to be called Alexander. They were always good friends. Shall we name him William Alexander?’
‘William Alexander Jamie?’ Isabella prompted.
‘Jamie for your brother? Of course my dear.’
The baby was christened as Sir William had suggested but Lizzie persisted in calling him “Wee Alex” so he became Alex to everyone except his grandfather.
He was an active toddler by the time he was eighteen months old. Nell and Isabella had their hands full trying to keep him out of mischief, as well as caring for Mamie and Nettie. Lizzie was getting old and her joints had stiffened during the winter. She often dwelt in the past and she frequently shook her grey head and muttered, ‘He reminds me o’ Zander when he was a boy. Aye looking for food, or up to mischief he was.’ Isabella kept her head bowed and hoped her cheeks did not flush. Had the old woman guessed Zander was his father? In her heart she knew Lizzie guessed many truths about the Douglas clan, but even she couldn’t know how much Isabella longed for the feel of Zander’s arms around her, or how her body throbbed with yearning for him. The loss of Henry had left a different kind of loneliness in her life and it was the reason she was delighted when Father Oliver made another unexpected visit during the early summer. This time he brought with him another priest, an earnest young man with a serious expression.
Although William Douglas feared for his soul and insisted all members of his household must attend Church each Sabbath he was not pleased by the arrival of the two priests, especially when he saw how warmly Isabella welcomed them both.
‘I brought Father Barron to introduce him to your grandchildren, and their mother, Sir William,’ Father Oliver said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes, for he recognized Sir William’s wary manner.
‘Why should my grandchildren need to meet a priest?’ Sir William demanded. ‘They are too young and too innocent to need one yet.’
‘That may be so but I fear I may be too old to introduce Father Barron to them and to your daughter-in-law when they are in need of a tutor. I can guarantee that Father Barron will make an excellent teacher.’
‘Not if he teaches them the same nonsense you taught my son,’ Sir William retorted harshly.
‘The last time we met Henry said he would like me to recommend a tutor for the children. I taught Alexander and Anna the same as Henry. Each young mind absorbs different things.’
‘Humph!’ Sir William growled. ‘I don’t believe you.. You had too much influence on Henry with your religion, education and medicine.’
‘Surely it was one of your own ancestors who rescued Isabella’s grandmother and found refuge for her in a convent. I understand he paid for her to be taught there?’
‘I never heard of any ancestor of mine doing such things!’
‘It is what Henry told me. I believe Isabella, had related the story to him. Apparently the Douglas Clan revelled in reiving and pillaging, even amongst their fellow Scots?’
‘Of course they did. We were known for our prowess with the sword,’ Sir William said proudly. ‘We had courage. My ancestors were never afraid to fight.’
‘I understand one of your ancestors was James Douglas. He was with a party who were reiving and slaying on Maxwell territory when he came upon a woman in childbirth. He recognised her as Isabella Maxwell, the woman he had wanted for his bride. Her father refused his offer and forced her to marry a distant Maxwell cousin.’
‘I believe there was some dispute,’ Sir William mused.
‘The two clans had become sworn enemies, but James Douglas was filled with compassion at the woman’s plight and he had loved her once. As was the custom then his fellow reivers would have slain her, but he showed compassion. He lifted her onto his horse and led her many miles to the nearest convent to seek aid for her. It was too late for the young mother, but the nuns were able to save her baby. Every year, until his death fourteen years later, James Douglas returned around the same date. He gave money to the convent for the care and education of the child. The nuns named her Mary. That child grew to be a woman and eventually became the wife of John Ellwood, and mother of Isabella, Henry’s wife, your own daughter-i
n-law. Even you must agree God, or fate if you insist, has brought you a fine reward for your ancestor’s good faith and generosity. Isabella has benefitted from the knowledge which her mother gleaned in the convent. I believe Isabella will do the same to her children, your grandchildren, if you allow Father Barron to help her.’
‘I don’t believe this - this fable!’ Sir William shouted angrily. He turned to Isabella. ‘Can it be true?’
‘It is the story my mother told us,’ Isabella said simply. ‘Her own mother had been forced into marriage with a distant cousin, instead of being allowed to marry James Douglas, the man she loved. It was the story told to her by the nuns. She barely knew her benefactor but my mother has a firm belief that no member of the Douglas clan would harm her, or her family. She was living at the convent when she met my father. He was wounded and taken to there to be nursed by the nuns.’
‘And you believed I would show mercy because I was a Douglas? Is that why you came?’
‘Oh no, I did not share our mother’s blind faith in the goodness of all members of the Douglas clan. I came to offer my life in exchange for my brother’s because I was afraid you would not wait to hear his story. Even if you listened, I thought you might not believe, Jamie.’
‘You’re probably right. We were impressed by his courage and his pride though. He didn’t plead for mercy,’ Sir William mused.
‘If your ancestor believed in the value of education surely you must share his wisdom?’ Father Oliver persisted. Sir William was deep in thought.
‘There were stories…’ He looked at Father Oliver. ‘No doubt you think the joining of our two families is divine intervention,’ he said mockingly, ‘but Henry’s marriage was at my command. On his deathbed he confirmed I had given him the best of wives with Isabella. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes,’ Isabella whispered, remembering Henry’s dying moments. She turned to Father Oliver. ‘Even the bravest of soldiers could not have shown more courage when it mattered most. I would like my children to be taught as you taught Henry.’
‘Very well,’ Sir William sighed. ‘You may send your priest to live at Moyenstane Tower and educate my grandchildren, but not yet. They are still too young.’
‘Thank you,’ Isabella murmured, then turned to Father Oliver, her grey eyes bright with gratitude. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. Whatever his faults Sir William would not go back on his word.
***
The harvest had been gathered in but the September sun still shone. Isabella was restless. She dreaded the long dark days of winter again, and the many winters which were to be her future. She had gathered all the fruits she could find, picking the wild raspberries which grew on the stony banks beyond the high courtyard walls, or searching for the juicy blackberries, or the small dark sloes. The children helped pick up nuts which fell from the hazel bushes.
‘It is going to be another fine day,’ she said. ‘Nell, I think we will take the baskets and the children, and search for berries in the Long Glen. I would like to see the valley again, and the clear water in the wee burn. We shall take bread and cheese and apples. Will you tell Duncan?’
‘Oh yes, and shall I get some goats’ milk for the children, Mistress?’ Nell asked, her eyes shining. ‘She loved to wander in the countryside, as she had been allowed to do as a child, before Snodd began to notice she was growing into a woman and her grandmother kept her close to their cottage.
‘Will you pack extra food for me please, Isabella?’ Sir William said, coming into the kitchen in time to hear her plans. ‘I shall join you.’
‘You’re coming too?’ Isabella was surprised but the children enjoyed their grandfather’s company when he made time to play games, or tell them stories. ‘Shall we still need Duncan?’
‘My presence will keep Snodd and his ilk at a distance, but the boy may come too if he has finished his work. The day has a holiday feel. We should all enjoy it. Winter will be here all too soon. I will take my horse. My wee fellow and the twins can ride when their legs get tired. How is Nell getting on riding the old pony?
‘She’s very nervous. He’s as quiet as a lamb but Nell is afraid of falling off.’ She smiled. ‘I must have been very young when I learned to ride because I can’t remember being afraid of the horses, or any of the animals at Braidlands.’
Nell and Duncan were delighted when they came to the Long Glen and discovered the crystal clear water of the burn flowing over the pebbles.
‘It is fed from a spring further up the hillside,’ Sir William told them. It will do you no harm if you drink it. When the flagons are empty we will wash them out and fill them with the fresh water to take back.’
‘How far can we go, Sir, before we leave your land? Are we safe here?’
‘Yes, my boy, you are safe. All the men connected to Moyenstane Tower take turns at guarding the borders. Walter is in charge of them since Zander went away. One day you will be able to join them now you can ride and shoot. We may not be able to see them up there on the hill top but they will have seen us.’
The children played happily together while they set about collecting the autumn fruits and nuts. Isabella was delighted when she found some of the wild flowers and herbs which she knew Henry had used for various ailments. Eventually Sir William decided it was time to eat.
‘It is strange,’ Isabella said with a smile, ‘but we seem to eat twice as much when we are outside. I think Alex will soon be as big as his sisters.’
‘He’s a sturdy wee fellow,’ Sir William agreed. ‘Lizzie says he reminds her of me when I was a boy,’ he said proudly, ‘even though he does not have hair the colour ripening corn.’
‘Alex has my brother’s colouring,’ Isabella said defensively. She always felt nervous when people commented on her children’s looks. She was secretly relieved that her son resembled her brother and father as much as he resembled Zander, though already he had several of Zander’s mannerisms, the way he smiled, the arch of a curious eyebrow, or the mischievous grin when he had been naughty.
‘The girls are so fair they are almost silver in the sunlight,’ she said hurriedly to draw Sir William’s attention from his grandson. They are more delicately built.’
‘Aye, like Henry’s mother and her sister.’ Sir William sighed. ‘Henry was like them, too finely built for a man, or for motherhood,’ he added. For a moment Isabella thought his eyes held a stricken look.
They had almost finished eating when Sir William got swiftly to his feet. He stood shielding his eyes with one hand as he stared into the distance.
‘Thomas and Edward are on look-out up there today,’ he muttered. ‘But there are three men coming this way.’ He felt for his pistol and glanced at Duncan. ‘Do you carry your pistol with you, laddie?’
‘Y-yes, S-sir. Master Walter said I must keep it with me always when I was with Mistress Isabella. B--but S-sir, I’m better with the bow and arrows.’
‘Just be prepared in case I need you. Isabella we had better gather things together.’ He stood shielding his eyes and staring into the distance. Isabella got to her feet and followed the direction of his gaze. Her eyesight was better than his.
‘There are four of them,’ she said. ‘They are coming from the direction of the marshlands. It is the way I first came here. They are leading their horses as though they have ridden for many hours.’ Her breath was coming faster now. ‘It’s Sam. I’m sure it is Sam, and the smaller one is his grandson. See there is a very young man, and a tall bearded fellow…’ She turned to look at her father-in-law. He was staring, frowning impatiently.
‘Why are they walking so slowly,’ he complained irritably.
‘I expect they’re stiff and weary if they have crossed the marshlands. What news can they be bringing?’ She turned to Duncan. ‘You can put away your pistol.’ She smiled at him. ‘I have known Sam all my life. He will not harm us.’ Her beaming smile died for a moment. I hope he is not the bearer of bad news about my family,’ she said in a low voice. She turned back to wat
ch the approaching figures. She saw the tall man look up. He had seen them. He began to wave.
‘I-I think it is…’ The golden hair and the beard glowed in the afternoon sunlight. ‘Is it possible? Did you expect…?’ She turned to stare accusingly at Sir William.
‘Expect what?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘Who? They’re waving at us.’
‘The big man - with the beard? Surely it is Zander? Surely you recognise him? But why is he coming from the marshlands? It is Zander! And Sam, Peter too, I think.’ She picked up her skirts and began to run to meet them, as eager and excited as a child. They too quickened their pace now, in spite of their bone weary limbs, but the tall man strode ahead, leaving his horse to follow obediently.
Forgetful of those watching Isabella ran faster. He opened his arms wide.
‘Zander, Oh Zander!’ she gasped with happiness. ‘Can it really be you?’ Zander’s arms tightened, holding her close against his lean, hard body while his mouth found hers in a long, hungry kiss.
Nell stared at her young Mistress, her mouth forming an O, while her eyes misted with tears. She knew how often Isabella had been overcome with sadness, despite her love for her children. Duncan’s eyes were round with surprise but when he would have followed Isabella Sir William gestured him to stay, although his own eyes never left the couple now locked in each other’s arms. His thoughts went back to the day he had returned after a long absence in Europe. He had looked forward to such an eager, warm embrace too. Instead he had been offered a hand shake and a cool cheek to kiss. His true love and her sister had been identical in physical form but there was no comparison when it came to love. He sighed, remembering how his heart had sunk like a leaden weight when he learned his beloved was dead. She had been forced to marry, been widowed, had given birth and died herself - all within three months.
It was Isabella who reluctantly drew away from Zander’s embrace as she became aware of Sam’s gaze upon them.
‘Zander you must hasten to greet Sir William,’ she whispered urgently. He nodded and slowly released her. ‘God, how I have missed you,’ he muttered, not quite under his breath. Isabella’s heart danced with joy and her colour rose in the familiar delicate blush he remembered so well. She moved and hugged Sam too and her cheeks were wet with tears as she felt his lined face. His own eyes were bright at the sight of her and the feel of her strong young arms. ‘He loved ye frae that day he first saw ye, lassie, coming frae the marshes,’ he muttered softly. ‘Brave and beautiful he said ye were, but Sir William Douglas had other ideas.’
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