The Recruit

by Monica McCarty

  She shook her head. “No.”

  His face fell. “No, you won’t give me a chance?”

  Her mouth curved at his crestfallen expression. “No, you don’t need to prove yourself to me. I believe you. I believe in you. How can I not, after what we just went through? There is no other man I would have by my side.”

  His entire body seemed to relax. “Do you mean that?”

  She nodded. Mary knew she could face the challenges ahead of her on her own, but she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to face them with someone else. She wanted to share her life with him.

  Her mouth twitched. “But I will hold you to your vow to discuss your plans with me. If you are involved in anything dangerous in the future, please let me know.”

  She’d meant it as a jest, but his face shadowed. “Aye, well, about that.”

  She sat up a little higher in the bed. “Don’t tell me there’s something else?”

  He winced. “I took a vow of silence before I met you.”

  She frowned, her nose wrinkling. “Does this have something to do with Bruce’s phantoms?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “How did you guess?”

  She stared at him. Could he really not know? “You mean besides the fact that they are supposed to have virtually inhuman strength and skill, and I’ve seen you fight? There’s also the fact that you are all uncommonly tall and built like siege engines. But most important, I saw you with them. Even in pain, I could see that you were one of them.”

  He looked stunned. “You could?”

  It was obvious, apparently except to him. She nodded. “I must admit I was surprised to see that you are so close to your brother-in-law, given your clan history.”

  “MacKay?” He shook his head. “We hate each other.”

  She arched a brow. Men were so blind sometimes. “You act like brothers to me.”

  He frowned, as if he’d never considered it. She refrained from laughing and rolling her eyes. “Why did he call you Recruit?”

  “That’s what I am. I’ve been trying to win a place on the team since I met you last summer at Dunstaffnage.”

  He told her why the loss that day had meant so much to him. “I let my temper get to me,” he explained, “and MacKay took advantage of it. Instead of winning a place outright on the team, I’ve been fighting ever since to earn my place.”

  Mary felt a pang, understanding probably more than he intended. It was always like that for him. Having to fight his way on. Having to prove himself. That was why winning was so important to him. “And have you?”

  “Yes, I think I finally have.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  He tipped her chin. “It’s what I thought I always wanted. But it isn’t. You and our son are the most important things in the world to me. I know what you’ve been through. I won’t put you through this, if you don’t think you can handle it. I won’t lie to you—being part of the Guard is extremely dangerous. Not just for me. You could be in danger if my part in it is ever discovered. If you don’t want to be a part of it, I’ll understand.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ll tell Bruce I can’t do it, if you want me to. There are other ways I can fight for him.”

  Mary was stunned. She knew how much this meant to him. After a lifetime of proving himself, he’d finally done so, earning his way into the most vaunted team of warriors in Christendom, and now he would walk away from it for her? “You would do that for me?”

  “I would do anything for you.”

  Her heart swelled until she thought it would burst. Tears glistened in her eyes. He would never know what that offer had meant to her. Just as she knew she could never ask it of him. “I don’t know, I think I should like being married to a real-life hero.” She smiled. “Besides, I don’t think you want to see your brother-in-law get all the glory, do you?”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “Hell no! He’s bloody unbearable as it is.”

  “Then you must keep him in his place.”

  He reached down and cupped her face in his warm hand. “I love you.”

  The look of tenderness in his eyes brought a fresh lump of emotion to her throat. Tears filled her eyes. “And I love you.”

  He kissed her. Gently. Reverently. A soft brush of the lips that sent her heart slamming against her ribs. Too soon, he lifted his head and smiled. “I should let you get some rest.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t go. I’m not tired.” She’d just gotten him back; she didn’t want him to leave again.

  He seemed to understand. “Scoot over.”

  He moved onto the bed beside her, leaning against the headboard, so that she could snuggle against him. She sighed with contentment, resting her cheek against his steel-hard chest and feeling the protective strength of his big arms wrapped around her.

  Warm and content, happier than she thought possible, she fell asleep. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself dream. For dreams did come true. She would never make do again.

  Epilogue

  Late summer 1310

  Skelbo Castle, Sutherland, Scotland

  Mary kissed her son on his downy-soft head and handed him to his nurse. He protested with a tiny whinge, but then settled into the woman’s arms contentedly. “Good night, sweeting,” she said, as the old woman took him away for his nap.

  Her sister-in-law turned from her place by the window overlooking the yard. “I doubt he shall get any sleep with that racket going on down there.”

  Mary sighed. “Who’s winning this time?”

  Helen squinted into the bright sunshine. “I think your husband.”

  “What does that make it?”

  Helen shrugged. “I lost count. Maybe five to five?”

  “When do you think they’ll stop?” Helen looked at her, and Mary laughed. “All right, you’re right. They won’t stop.” She shook her head. “You would think they would have had enough fighting the past couple of months.”

  “Ah, but that is easy,” Helen said with a grin. “That’s against the English. This is fighting to prove who’s the best Highlander.”

  Mary came to join her by the window. “I think you better fetch your bag, Angel. It looks like you have a few bruises and cuts to tend.”

  Helen’s mouth pursed. “I don’t know why I bother; they’ll just do it all over again tomorrow.”

  If they were here tomorrow. Mary knew that her husband’s brief, three-day respite from war could be over at any time. Edward had marched on Scotland nearly two months ago, and Bruce and the Highland Guard had been ready. Kenneth’s instincts had proved correct. Edinburgh Castle had been an attempted diversion by the English. The troops had followed the same path Clifford and his men had taken that fateful scouting trip. Thanks to her husband, Bruce’s men were waiting for them. The English had been hit hard and often on his progress north. Edward was currently taking shelter at Renfrew Castle southwest of Glasgow, but Bruce hoped to have the demoralized English king back in Berwick soon, licking his wounds.

  Mary followed Helen out of the Hall, down the stairs, and into the courtyard. The two men were sitting on overturned wooden crates, arguing. From the looks of them, it was hard to tell who won. They were both bruised, scraped, and looked like they’d been rolling in mud—which they had.

  Helen didn’t say anything. She just stomped up to her husband, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him until he dropped his head. “Aw, Helen, don’t look at me like that. He had it coming.”

  “He always does. And did you prove anything?”

  “Aye, that his neck looks good under my sword,” Kenneth interjected gamely.

  His sister shot him a look. “I’ll deal with you later. Come,” she said to Magnus, with a long-suffering sigh. “Let me see what I can do with that eye.”

  Mary shook her head and folded her arms, looking down at her gloating husband. “Well, Ice, what do you have to say for yourself?” She used the war name given to him by the High
land Guard when he and Helen had been given a ceremony a few months ago. “I thought the sword would be enough. But it seems this contest will never be over.”

  Since Kenneth had lost his sword saving her, Bruce had gifted him with a new one. On it was inscribed Par omnibus operibus, secundum ad neminem. Equal to every task, second to none.

  “It was his fault.”

  “It always is. When are you two going to admit that you don’t hate each other?”

  He gave her that provoking smile that tended to make her knees weak. “Now why would we do that? He’s the best sparring partner I have.”

  He’d also become his real partner in the Highland Guard. Hell indeed had frozen over.

  Mary gave up. Her stubborn brother-in-law and hot-tempered husband would just have to figure it out on their own. She hoped without killing each other in the process.

  Kenneth picked her up and spun her around. “Put me down.” She wrinkled her nose, trying to swat his hands away. “You’re filthy.”

  He kissed her anyway. Deeply and passionately in the bright sunshine until her heart was pounding, her breath was quickening, and her knees were turned to jelly.

  His eyes were hot as they met hers. “Where’s William?”

  “With his nurse, taking a nap.”

  His grin deepened. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

  She blushed. Helen had finally given her approval to resume her marital “duty,” and Kenneth seemed intent on making up for lost time—not that she minded. “It seems you have been propositioning me for improper naps since the first time I met you.”

  Their eyes locked, remembering their first conversation at the Highland Games. “It was the best proposition I ever made,” he said softly. “But I should have tossed you over my shoulder that day and carried you up the stairs. It would have been a lot easier.”

  She met his gaze, all the love in her heart shining in her eyes. “But not half as rewarding. What’s victory without the battle?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Spoken like a true fighter.”

  “I learned from the best.” And she had.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  As with the other books in this series, many of the characters in The Recruit are loosely based on historical figures, including the hero and heroine. Some time after 1307, Kenneth de Moravia, the younger brother of William, Earl of Sutherland, married Mary of Mar, the widow of John Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl (who made a brief appearance in The Viper).

  Most historians believe it is the same Mary who married both Atholl and Sutherland, but there seems to be a possibility that they were two different women. She is alternatively referred to as Mary, Marjory, and Margaret. Moreover, the genealogical charts are all over the place on her date of birth. Some are highly implausible, i.e. having her well over forty when she married Kenneth, who was probably in his early twenties at the time—which, given that they had at least three children together, seems a stretch for medieval procreation. Most sources have Mary as the daughter of Donald, Earl of Mar, but others have her as the daughter of Gartnait (his son). I decided to go with the conventional wisdom of her being the same person, but adjusted her age to fit my story. The possibility of more than one Mary did, however, give me the idea for a fictional twin sister, “Janet.”

  If there is one thing I’ve learned in researching this series, it’s that intermarriage between noble families seems to have made everyone related. I’m exaggerating, but not by much. The connections are numerous and at times extremely convoluted.

  Case in point: Mary of Mar. Mary’s sister Isabel was Robert the Bruce’s first wife and the mother of his daughter Marjory, who at the time of this story is his heir and imprisoned in England with his second queen, Elizabeth, and Mary’s nephew Donald, the current Earl of Mar. But Mary’s brother Gartnait was also married to Bruce’s sister, Christina (who later would marry Christopher Seton, Alex “Dragon” Seton’s brother). Another of Mary’s brothers (Duncan?) seems to have been the first husband of Christina of the Isles, the half-sister of Lachlan “Viper” MacRuairi.

  Got all that straight? Those are just the connections I mentioned. I didn’t mention that Mary’s mother was Helen, daughter of Llewelyn the Great, Prince of Wales, and Joan, King John of England’s natural daughter. In other words, Mary’s maternal great-grandfather was King John of England, which makes her second cousins with Edward I of England and gives her more connections than I could possibly name. But that isn’t all. Mary’s paternal grandmother was Elizabeth Comyn of Buchan (the Comyns, of course, being Bruce’s archenemies); thus her father’s first cousin was John Buchan, Earl of Buchan (Bella MacDuff’s first husband from The Viper). I can’t imagine trying to put together a family tree of all this!

  Kenneth became the fourth Earl of Sutherland on his brother’s death in 1330. Kenneth and Mary’s son William, who is born at the end of this book, later became the fifth Earl. Their second son, Nicholas, married a le Cheyne heiress, and was the progenitor of the Sutherland lairds of Duffus. They also had a daughter Eustachia and possibly another daughter.

  Significantly, their son William married Margaret, the daughter of Robert the Bruce and his second wife, Elizabeth de Burgh, making Mary and Bruce in-laws three times over! For a brief time William and Margaret’s son John (Kenneth and Mary’s grandson) was named the royal heir, but unfortunately he died of the black plague in his teens.

  As Bruce had only four children to reach adulthood (only three of whom were alive at the time of this marriage), the royal alliance certainly shows that the Sutherlands—who had fought with the Comyns and the English until 1308–09—had firmly established themselves in the Bruce fold. To my authorial mind, it also could show Kenneth’s importance to Bruce and/or his fondness for Mary.

  As is unfortunately common for most women of the era, information on Mary’s whereabouts and what happened to her in the days after Atholl’s execution did not seem to make it onto the historical record. The timing and circumstances of her marriage to Kenneth, therefore, were left up to my fictional imagination.

  Much more, however, is known about her son. David Strathbogie, like his young cousin, Donald, Earl of Mar, was an English prisoner in his youth and spent time in the royal household of the Prince of Wales (later Edward II). David and Donald would be loyal to Edward of England for most of their lives.

  So how do two Scottish earls end up loyal to an English king? The opponents in the Scottish Wars of Independence seem simple: the Scots versus the English. But of course, the reality is much more complex. One of the hardest things for me to wrap my head around was just how much the Bruce kingship divided the nation—this is the feuding that is glossed over in Braveheart and better explains Robert the Bruce’s unheroic actions in that movie. The war was between the Scots and the English, yes, but it was also between the Scots loyal to Bruce and those loyal to the deposed King John Balliol (Comyn faction).

  Men who had fought together against the English in the early part of the war (like Atholl and Sir Adam Gordon) would take opposite sides when Bruce claimed the throne. Thus, you will see some of the early “patriots,” who fought alongside Wallace, later fighting with the English. The old proverb “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” really holds here. There was a significant core of Scottish nobles who chose to fight with the English rather than join Bruce, even after it was clear he was making inroads (1307–08).

  To my mind, as I allude to in the book, part of Bruce’s greatness as a king was that he did not immediately disinherit many of these men, instead making a concerted effort to win over his detractors and unify his kingdom (with the notable exception of the Comyns and MacDougalls, his blood enemies who could never be forgiven). The Sutherlands and the Earl of Ross are good examples of this. The Earl of Ross was responsible for the imprisonment of Bruce’s queen, his sister, and his daughter, but Bruce forgave him two years later and married one of his sisters to Ross’s heir. Interestingly, one of the conditions for Ross to come over to Bruce was that he
had to pay for mass to be said at St. Duthacs in memory of Atholl.

  Some would take longer to be persuaded (such as Sir Adam Gordon), but others would never come over to Bruce’s side. After Bannockburn, Bruce lost patience. The holdouts had their land and titles dispossessed and would become known as the “Disinherited.”

  David Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl (like his cousin Donald, Earl of Mar), was one of these Disinherited. Conveniently for my story, however, David does “switch” sides and come over to Bruce about this time (around 1311–12). He was part of the English truce party with Lamberton in 1311–12, which gave me the inspiration for Mary’s role.

  Alas, David’s allegiance to Bruce was brief. He was back with the English by Bannockburn in 1314, and this time it was for good. The supposed reason for his defection? Allegedly his sister Isabel (Mary and Atholl actually had two, possibly three, children) was seduced by Edward Bruce (Robert’s only remaining brother) and he refused to marry her.

  At the time of the novel, David was probably about twenty. Interestingly, he was also married to Joan Comyn, the daughter of The Red Comyn, whom Bruce killed in 1306. Their son David was born in early 1309 and baptized at St. Nicholas Church in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Thus, I chose to put Mary in the area at the time, although Ponteland Castle doesn’t come to the Earl of Atholl until slightly later.

  So how does David Strathbogie, the son of a great Bruce patriot, end up married to a Comyn? I suppose it could have been arranged by King Edward to ally David with Bruce’s enemy, but there is another explanation that goes back to my earlier point about former friends. Atholl (David’s father) and The Red Comyn fought together at Dunbar for the patriot cause and were imprisoned in the Tower of London. Perhaps the betrothal was arranged when they were on the same side? Interestingly, when David temporarily switched sides, he left his Comyn wife behind in England. One can only imagine what that reunion was like.

  As you can imagine, figuring out the possible motivations for why someone would have allied with Bruce or Comyn (and the English), given all these interrelations, can be a puzzle of its own. But there is another consequence of all these intermarriages that I really didn’t “get” at first, which also complicated the decision for many of Scottish nobles. We think of Scotsmen or Englishmen as either/or. But the practical effect of all these marriages was a class of nobles who had significant land interests on both sides of the border.