by Nicole Locke
‘The children!’ Gaira interrupted. ‘What did they do?’
Malcolm raised his hand. ‘They’re fine, but they talked to Hugh, who talked to Caird. We felt...compelled then to talk to Bram about...you know.’
‘About what?’ Gaira gestured helplessly. ‘I doona understand. I see nae difference. They still fight!’
‘Aye, but,’ Malcolm continued, ‘there’s nae hiding Robert’s still English. Some sort of punishment must be done. We are at war.’
‘Aye, he’s English, but not necessarily Black Robert,’ Caird added.
Gaira’s jaw dropped. Caird hadn’t freely offered information in years. It took her a minute to realise she didn’t understand what he said.
Malcolm’s face looked just as blank. Then his eyes lit and he flashed a quick grin. ‘The clever bastard.’
Caird arched his brow.
Gaira felt far from clever. There was a gasp from the crowd and her eyes flew to Robert. His right arm was cut, blood slid down his bare skin in rivulets.
‘If you doona tell me what you mean, I swear I’ll march straight into the middle of the circle and be damned to the consequences.’
Caird glanced at Malcolm. Malcolm grinned wider, clearly relishing withholding the information. Gaira curled her fist.
‘Bram never said Robert was Black Robert,’ Malcolm said.
She didn’t release her fist. Robert bled. She had no time for stupidity. ‘I was standing outside when Bram made his announcement.’
‘Aye and you were probably too busy thinking of ways to stop the fight than truly listening.’
She couldn’t argue with that.
‘He said Robert was English and, like Black Robert, he needed to be punished.’
‘I doona understand.’ She blamed the roaring in her ears. The fact that Robert bled. The fact that he fought for his life. For their life together.
‘He dinna tell the clan he’s Black Robert,’ Malcolm continued. ‘He just said Robert’s an English soldier. Bram’s leaving options.’
She released her fists. ‘Why does it matter if he’s Black Robert or an English soldier? They point swords at each other! What options are there, other than injury or death?’
‘If Bram wins, then he could announce his true identity and release him to King Balliol. If Bram loses, then the entire clan won’t necessarily ask for Robert’s head.’ Malcolm shook his head. ‘I should have guessed at it. If Bram had wanted to treat him like Black Robert, then he would have already summoned our king. But he fights him fair and gives him honour. A chance for the clan to accept him.’
Gaira felt a buzzing in her head. One truth making itself clear, over and over: not Black Robert. Bram announced to the clan that Robert was English, but not the most hated of all English.
She tried to remember the rest of Bram’s words and couldn’t. Could it be true he had given Robert a chance to live?
But just as her heart released some of its fear, it froze. One fact could not be ignored. Bram and Robert fought. Someone she loved was still going to die.
* * *
They fought too long. Hours had gone by and lessened any chances of victory. Robert’s muscles were past exhaustion; his body past the pain. He was weakening. But Bram still stood. Robert’s plan for the fight was failing.
When the fight started, Robert had been confident Bram would fight like his brothers. And if so, it would take perhaps an hour to tire him out. Exhausted, but unhurt, Bram would call off the fight. Gaira wouldn’t lose her brother. And he would keep at least one promise in his miserable, lonely life: to stay.
But tiring Bram wasn’t working. Robert shuffled across the dirt. Both his shoulders sagged. His fingers were numb from holding on to the sword—its weight pulled like a hundred men.
Bram raised his sword awkwardly. Robert didn’t know if Bram had the strength to lift it higher, but it didn’t matter. He had moved too close to Bram. He hadn’t the space to deflect even a half-raised sword.
But that didn’t mean he was prepared to die. Keeping his sword hanging at his side and hoping he could knock Bram over, Robert fell against him. Their shoulders locked and both dropped their swords to push.
Robert knew how to knock a man to the ground just by the manoeuvre of his body and a swipe of his feet. Too late to realise, he didn’t have enough strength in his feet. Dammit, they must look like two men embracing in welcome.
He felt anything but welcoming. What he did feel was anger, frustration, and a desire to end the hellish quagmire he had sunk in. His heart pumped harder and rage finally flowed again. It gave him the strength to speak.
‘You ragabash loun. Why don’t you fall?’
Bram stiffened against him and Robert had his advantage of balance, but the sound emitting from Bram stopped him from making the last push.
Bram was laughing. Laughing.
Stunned, Robert didn’t stop Bram as he straightened himself and waved to Malcolm and Caird, who immediately appeared by their sides. Both looked as confused as Robert felt.
What the hell was happening?
Malcolm whispered in Bram’s ear, Robert caught only a few of the words, but Bram shook his head. He moved away from Robert and faced the crowd. Caird came closer to Robert and Robert took the support.
Bram wiped his eyes. ‘The fight is over.’ His voice boomed over the crowd.
In laird fashion, he waved his hand to emphasise his decree, but he stumbled over his feet. Malcolm reached to help him, but Bram again shook his head.
‘Clean him, feed him and return him to a vacant room in the keep for sleep.’ Bram kept his voice low. ‘After I do the same, I’ll need to talk to our sister.’
Robert didn’t protest when Malcolm picked up his sword. Bewilderment rocked him and he could barely keep to his feet.
He was alive and so was Bram. He searched the crowd for Gaira, but she was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
It was hours later when Gaira was summoned to Bram’s chamber. Her heart refused to work properly. It skipped and stuttered, but it felt as light and bright as a ray of sunshine across yellow broom.
Bram sat on the large bench. His hair was clean, but dishevelled as if he slept when it was still wet. Bags hung below his eyes and his cheeks were drawn from exhaustion. But her brother was alive.
She flew to him and hugged him as close as the bench would allow.
Bram chuckled. ‘You still love me.’
Gaira pulled away from him. ‘How could you ever doubt it?’
‘I tried to kill the man you love.’
She sat heavily next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘I’d have loved you even if you had killed him.’
She heard his swallow and she felt a lump in her own throat.
‘Gaira,’ he spoke hesitantly, ‘do you know what it means to love him?’
She knew he wasn’t asking what love was. He asked if she knew the man.
She nodded.
‘He has killed hundreds of men.’
‘I know what he has done.’
‘How can you have any kind of feeling towards him at all, let alone love him?’
‘I know him. I know his anger and his kindness. He was meant to meet me. He was meant for me.’
He sighed. ‘I doona understand it.’
‘’Tis not your heart to understand. ’Tis my own and I understand it all too well.’
He was silent and she was too content to interrupt the silence. It had been a long time since her brother had held her and comforted her.
‘You did not ask me why I dinna kill him,’ he finally said. ‘Where is my curious sister?’
‘Too happy to question the results.’
Bram chuckled. ‘He cursed me for not falling.’
‘Stopped by a fe
w words?’ she teased.
‘Nae, it was what he cursed. He called me a ragabash loun. You’ve only ever called your brothers good-for-nothing scoundrels.’
She laughed. ‘So you assumed that particular insult was a form of affection? And when Robert used it on you—’
‘I knew the curse came from you,’ he cut in, ‘and that you loved him.’
‘But I told you I loved him.’
She waited for him to answer. When he didn’t she pulled away. ‘You dinna believe me! What did you think I was doing? Lying?’
‘Nae! ’Tis just you had spent an inappropriate time with him and I dinna know the man. You could have been motivated by gratefulness or fear.’ He rubbed his face. ‘I was worried for you.’
His reasoning was for her safety, but she wasn’t completely satisfied. ‘That’s twice now you’ve tried to manage my life. I’ll not have you doing it again. I pick my own man. Not you.’ She snorted. ‘And Busby of all the men to pick!’
She was glad he had the decency to turn red. ‘Going to remind me of that?’ he asked.
‘For the rest of your life.’
Bram laughed and Gaira laughed with him. The laughter released her fear and anxiety and she suddenly fell apart. She had almost lost her brother and Robert. Hysteric giggles turned to great gasps of air. She started crying in earnest.
Bram’s pats on her back stung, but she stayed there until she could talk again.
‘I thought...’ she breathed in raggedly ‘...you were going to kill him.’
‘That was my intention, but I think... I doona think he was going to let me.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘In fact, I doona think he was trying to kill me.’
She wiped her cheeks. ‘When did you finally realise?’
‘Not long. I was frustrated how the battle started and in my haste, I hit his sword too high. He could have turned his wrist and I wouldn’t have had a sword. He knew it, too, but instead he stepped back and released our swords. It was as though we were in training and his only goal was to wear me down.’
‘He’s a fine braw man and I have seen him fight. I have nae doubt he would have achieved his goal.’
Bram gave her an imperious look. ‘A Colquhoun lass speaks against her brother and laird?’
‘You may be laird and my brother, but he is Black Robert.’
Bram’s smiled faded and she immediately regretted her reminder.
‘What do you plan for him now?’ she whispered.
‘I have an idea.’ He shrugged. ‘I will nae have much trouble if he doesn’t cause me any.’
‘Nae, much trouble? You’ll have plenty of trouble raising Busby’s children.’ His look of incredulousness was something she would never forget. She laughed, but she was very serious. ‘Aye, Busby’s children are now yours. Your responsibility. They wouldn’t be orphans if you dinna force me into marriage.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ he spluttered.
‘Ridiculous!’ She stood. He stood along with her and used his height to intimidate. It didn’t work. ‘Nae, it’s not and if you weren’t such a coward about it, you’d own up to it, too.’
‘But what am I to do with children? I’m not even married!’
‘You should have thought of that before you got yourself into this mess.’
He walked agitatedly to the window and looked out at the courtyard below. He was quiet a long time, but she didn’t push him any further.
He turned to her. ‘Aye. I’ll take them.’
She peered at him closely. His face was resigned, but not defeated. She was instantly suspicious. ‘What are you up to?’
He smiled gently. ‘As much as I am loathe admitting you’re right, it is my fault the children were involved in my plans. They are my responsibility.’
She crossed her arms. ‘Aye, then—’
‘But not all messes were made by me. You made a few of your own. Some you’ll have to take responsibility for.’
‘I’ve already paid for any responsibility. You’ve already made me suffer enough.’
The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘I have a plan, Sister, or did you forget? There is more required of you.’
He opened the door and called out. Bram did not close the door again until Caird and Robert entered the room.
Joy made her legs feel like water as she watched Robert. He was unharmed and whole and she loved him so very much.
His hair was wet from his bath. Bram had had the graciousness to give him his personal belongings back. His tunic and hose, still black, were clean. But unlike his previous clothes, these were well ornamented. A border of black silk rimmed the cuffs and hem. Thick elaborate embroidery, all in black, blazed across the chest and both his sleeves. At his waist was the fine jewelled dagger she had once held. They were elegant clothes for grand banquets or court presences before kings.
Bram had said Robert was King Edward’s right hand. She might have found him in the middle of her precious Scotland, but dressed as he was, it was a reluctant reminder he had not come from her Scotland. He came from England; he came from power and wealth.
Foolishly, she’d begun to imagine a life with him and the children. But she did not know if that was what Robert wanted. He had lost Alinore. What if he couldn’t or didn’t want to make the same commitment to her she was wanting with him?
She barely registered Bram’s nod to Caird, but she did register Caird forcefully taking her arm. She yanked her arm and his fingers dug in, until they hurt. She moved to stomp his foot. He anticipated her move. She glowered at him, but her wrath was with Bram.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ she demanded.
‘As I said, there are more requirements for you.’
‘Is this necessary?’ Robert growled.
‘Maybe not the means,’ Bram stated, ‘but I am unprepared for any delays. I can see how she bites her lip and confusion mars her brow as she looks at you. I will not have any indecision now I’ve decided what course there is to take.’
‘But there is no question on my part—’
‘I do not appreciate being talked about as if I am not in the room,’ Gaira interjected.
Robert shot Caird a glance and Gaira felt the imperceptible loosening of his fingers. But he did not let go.
‘When she is—’ Robert stated.
Bram held up his hand. ‘I will not transgress more than a laird or a brother is allowed. But I will have co-operation.’
Gaira was tired of their exchange. Mostly, she was tired of being manipulated.
She turned her attention to Bram. ‘I thought you weren’t dictating my life any more!’
He scoffed. ‘As if I’ll stop dictating a woman’s place.’
Gaira held back a few words. ‘What are you planning to do with me now?’
‘What you most want,’ he answered. He waved to Caird. ‘See that she is prepared.’
‘Bram, so help me...’
‘It will be fine, Gaira. Trust me,’ Robert stated.
The gentleness of Robert’s request soothed her as no explanation could. She didn’t want to be dismissed or manipulated. But although it would take her a long time to trust her brother again, she did trust Robert.
She nodded just a bit to him before she glared at Bram. Caird sensed her compliance and loosened his grip. With as much pride as she could muster, she walked out of the room.
* * *
‘When she is mine, you will never treat her that way again,’ Robert stated vehemently when the door closed behind Gaira.
‘What makes you think she is to be yours?’
Robert plucked at the fine sleeve of his tunic. ‘You asked for her to be prepared, but it seems you prepared me as well.’
‘You think I care what you wear?’
‘You let me
live. Marrying us is the most logical choice for loyalty.’ He folded his arms. ‘Why did you not simply tell her?’
‘She is too headstrong. I could not trust her to make the right decision.’
‘Your sister is intelligent and strong. She does not need you dictating to her how to live her life. And neither do I.’
‘As laird, I make it my right and you will marry her.’
Robert chuckled. ‘I cannot wait till you meet the woman you want. And even better for me if she’s repulsed by your leadership and arrogance.’
Bram looked stunned, then chuckled wryly. ‘As if a woman wouldn’t want someone to lead them!’ Bram poured them drinks. ‘You defend my sister well.’
‘She is worth defending, even if it comes from me.’
Bram pulled his glass away from his lips. ‘You love her.’
‘Aye. But that does not change who I am.’
All amusement disappeared from Bram’s face. ‘Aye, it does. Because I doona think you know who you are.’
‘I am Black Robert. I have killed hundreds of Scotsmen. I am King Edward’s right-hand man.’
‘Nae, you’re not.’
Robert raised his brow.
‘You are those things nae longer. From this day you will not be known as Black Robert. That man was killed by my brothers days ago. You are a survivor of Doonhill.’
Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table. ‘You dress me and dress her, but there may still be repercussions. Someone may recognise me.’
‘Nae one will recognise you.’ Bram put his glass down and leaned forward. ‘What I’m to say is treasonous. Do you understand? I will speak now and not speak about this again.’
Robert waited. Bram wasn’t asking for a response.
‘I believe you doona know the English machinations, but I will tell you the latest messages,’ Bram continued. ‘What happened at Doonhill has happened elsewhere. I will not rest till my sister is avenged. Scotland will not rest till their deaths are avenged. I may be here, but this clan is already involved. You cannot be seen.’
From the Welsh Wars to these borderlands, Robert had fought his entire life. He’d known nothing else. But now he was gifted with a family and a home of his own. If he was recognised, not only his life, but theirs as well would be forfeit. Could he do it? Easily.