Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders)

by K. E. Saxon

  And, if she did not find the necklace? Well…the truth was, she knew not what she’d do then.

  * * *

  Even with all Morgana’s worry, ‘twas not until after she’d broken her fast that she was able to take the trip back to the burn, but ‘twas with Modron and a guard along as well. She knew without attempting such, that the gatekeeper would give argument and no doubt inform her husband of her plans, were she to endeavor the journey outside the fortress walls without an escort, for all had heard of her childing state and of her recent swoon at the burn. No one knew (or at least she prayed ‘twas so) of her terrible waking dream of this night past, nor of her nocturnal wanderings.

  As they journeyed, she made no mention to Modron of her knowledge that, deep in the night, her maid had gone to meet her lover, believing it best to leave it in the past, and, if ‘twas not for the dire reason for the expedition they were now set upon, Morgana would have found some joy in the warm, sunny day, in the vivid pinks and yellows and purples and greens on the glen, and in the butterflies that danced upon air there.

  After securing their mounts to trees, they went down near the water’s edge. As Robert had done the day prior, the guard descended the incline in the terrain ahead of the women and then gave purchase with his arm and shoulder as they took the few awkward steps down themselves. ‘Twould be difficult to search for the necklace without the other two seeing her doing so, but Morgana felt confident that she was capable of the small deceit.

  While the guard unfolded the blanket and laid it out for them to sit upon, and while Modron walked closer to the water’s edge to watch the antics of the bright blue dragonflies that hovered and sped about above the moss-covered bolder a bit further upstream, Morgana strolled over to the place she’d spied the necklace two days past.

  The fallen branch was still there.

  Her heart raced with joy. I am not utterly mad! Sending a furtive glance in the direction of her two companions and finding them still occupied with their own endeavors, she scanned the ground around the fallen branch with added fervor. In only moments, however, her initial eagerness stumbled, then fell like stone, leaving a weighted, twisting fear in the pit of her stomach.

  Still, she was not ready to admit defeat. With another brief look to the other two beforehand, she crouched down and began to run her hand through the debris and vegetation on the ground.

  With a start, she heard the guard boom, “Did you drop something, m’lady?”

  Morgana’s heart leapt into her throat as she jerked her head up to look in his direction. She gave him a vigorous nod as she rose to her feet, pretending to place one of her rings back on her finger and lifting it up for him to see at the same time she did so.

  I am. I am going mad.

  CHAPTER 9

  VIKA PUSHED THE stableman’s hands away when he tried to help her from her cart, then she promptly mounted the wooden steps he’d placed next to it, taking them down to the ground. Her cousin and Robert would learn soon enough about the babe in her belly without her sending the entire court into a dither of excited chatter beforehand. The guards who’d traveled with her would be returning after a bit of rest and refreshment, so she had little worry that they would stay long enough to learn of her childing state before their departure and carry the tale back with them.

  She’d not received her cousin’s missive until a few sennights past when it had finally made it to the small manor house to which she’d fled once she’d discovered that she was breeding. The dwelling and its bit of land and rents had been part of her dowry upon her marriage to the wretched man her father had forced her to wed, and bequeathed back to her as part of her widow’s terce upon his death. It had been the only place she could think of where she could abide for a time while she made her plans for the babe. The letter had come at a very opportune time for her, however, for she was growing too thick in the middle now to continue hiding her condition from her servants for very much longer—and ‘twould not be long then until one of them revealed it to her father. A thing Vika was determined to keep from him as long as possible—mayhap forever, if she could somehow contrive to do so. Her father had renounced all further dealings with Morgana and Robert after the embarrassment they’d caused him, so there was little worry that he would e’er hear news of her from this clan.

  And, as soon as this one was whelped, ‘twould be sent to Grímr, where the other one he’d planted in her was biding as well. The babe would be better off without her, just as was Halla, the young one she’d borne nearly three summers past.

  She hadn’t taken more than three steps toward the entrance to the keep when she saw Robert emerge and trot down the stone steps. Clearly, he was deep in thought about something, for his eyes scanned the courtyard, glancing off of her, as they moved past her toward the north side of the fortress. In the next second, however, his head whipped around and his eyes lit upon her with a friendly warmth in their depths. He jogged over to her.

  “Vika!” he said, taking both her hands in his in greeting. “Morgana will be pleased to learn that you’ve arrived.” He turned his head and dropped one of her hands in order to motion to one of his men to announce her arrival to Morgana. “Come. There’s fresh-made ale in the great hall.” He took hold of her elbow and pulled her in that direction.

  Vika shook her head and smiled. Still the same old Robert. Always ordering, ne’er asking. It had been rather vexing to her while they were lovers, but now that they were cousins—and friends, she supposed—‘twas only a mild irritant. She’d only e’er been able to command him when they played their erotic games. But, how e’er did poor Morgana stand it, otherwise? Truly, she must be a saint.

  When they walked through the doorway to the hall, a servant tried to take her cloak from her shoulders, but she resisted, saying, “Nay, I’m just a bit chilled. I’ll keep this on a while longer.”

  Robert looked at her as if she’d gone mad, but, thankfully, did not comment. Instead, he made arrangements for the ale and a bit of a light repast to be placed before her at table.

  Vika was just raising the cup to her lips when Morgana swept through the entrance and hurried over to where they were seated. She didn’t give Vika a chance to rise before she placed a kiss on her cheek and settled down beside her.

  Robert reached over and took hold of Morgana’s hand. This gesture, alone, was enough to shock Vika, but when she also saw his expression soften and a tender light spark his eyes as he regarded his wife, the greeting to her cousin clogged in her throat and all she could do was blink at him.

  She recognized that look all too well. ‘Twas the exact look she’d received from Grímr much too oft during their time together on Leòdhas. ‘Twas lovelonging! A remembered feeling of smothering dread hit her like a hot gust of wind, nearly knocking her from her seat, and she leaned against the table for support.

  ‘Twas only when she felt Morgana’s hand on her arm that she realized her cousin had been trying to give her some news. Vika turned her stunned gaze to Morgana and almost lost the battle to stay upright all over again when she at last understood the tidings. Morgana was breeding as well!

  Except this child, ‘twas quite clear from the effusive hand movements and joyous grins on both her companions visages, was very much wanted. As was the common way. Aye, ‘twas only she, herself, that was the bad one for not feeling elation o’er this same fruitfulness within herself.

  Vika forced a smile to her lips and gave Morgana another hug. Their bellies came close to touching, but Vika managed to back away just in time. She would not reveal the fact of her own childing now that she knew her cousin was so pleased to be in the same condition. She’d hoped for a bit of solace, mayhap, even understanding, but knew now she’d not find it here. ‘Twas clear ‘twould be best to depart in no more than a day or two hence—to where, she would simply have to use this time here to consider—and not return until well after the birth of this babe she carried.

  * * *

  ‘Twas as Robert was taking th
e last swallow of his ale a few minutes later, having dispatched Vika to her newly-prepared bedchamber where she would rest until the next morn, as she’d declined taking supper with them due to fatigue from her journey, that his eyes once again settled on his wife.

  ‘Tho she sat quietly beside him, with a smile still upon her lips, he could also see that she’d grown pale, and her countenance was drawn.

  “The babe is making your stomach roil again. Go up to our chamber and rest.”

  She shook her head and indicated that she had duties to attend.

  He stood up, lifted her in his arms, touched his lips to hers—because he could not fight the urge to do so—and strode out of the great hall, not stopping until he had her out of her gown and lying on her back on the bed in only her chemise.

  “Rest. My son needs it, and so do you.”

  The fact that she gave no protest, only nodded her head, told him he was right in giving her this command.

  Again, he bent down and touched his lips to hers, this time cupping her soft cheek in his palm as well. She lifted her hands and pressed them to the back of his head, deepening the kiss, and he almost relented, almost accepted what she offered, but worry for her and his son gave him the strength to pull away.

  “Rest,” he said again. “I know you did not sleep well this night past, and so you must sleep now. Do not leave this chamber until I come for you this eve for supper. Aye?” He waited for her nod of agreement then turned and departed the chamber before the fire in his loins made him change his mind about bedding her, made him slake his need deep inside her.

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon, and after a much-needed, tho’ guilt ridden, rest, Morgana pulled the needle strung with dark blue thread through the cloth that would, when the scene was completed, be her son’s tapestry showing his father on his steed, with the MacVie forest and burn in the background. She was also working on another, larger one, which was to be hung in the great hall. It depicted Robert, in all his knight’s armor, on the tourney field with lance in hand, charging toward his opponent. The recollection of his bravery and expertise, of his handsome, active body, brought a sigh to her lips. Even with the queasy stomach, and the weariness she’d felt earlier, she still wished he would have lain with her, taken her, as she’d hoped, as she’d asked, as she’d wanted.

  Feeling restless, she stood up, dropping the square of cloth, and walked to the window. She could see that work was ending for the day for most of those down in the courtyard and realized with a start that she’d idled near to all the day away already and the sun would be setting in but a few more hours. If she wanted to complete the stitching on the burn this afternoon, she must get back to it without delay.

  As she was about to turn back to her chair to take up her sewing again, a clamor began at the gates, portending a visitor’s arrival. Soon, a man on horseback, and of some prominence, as evidenced by his dress, entered the courtyard with but a few men riding in his wake. Tho’ she could not discern his features from this distance, nor his heraldic badge, still Morgana felt a twinge of recognition. ‘Twas not until Robert strode out to meet him, and after the man had dismounted and they both began walking toward the entrance to the keep, that she at last knew his identity. Guy de Burgh! A thrill of pleasure at seeing her old friend was instantly replaced by worry that he was here on some dire duty that would not bode well for Robert. Is this to do with the war between the MacVie’s and the de Burghs?

  * * *

  It had shaken Robert more than he wanted to admit when he’d been advised that a small band of de Burghs were at his gate, saying they came with no quarrel, and requesting entry. Of course, he granted his permission. He could do naught otherwise, as they were his closest neighbors, and he, at least, wanted a final end to the ill-will between the two families. And, this was as good a time as any to try to get some clearer answers about why the feud between his father and Roger de Burgh lasted so long, and was so virulent that it nearly brought Robert’s clan to ruin.

  He’d heard not one word from, nor had his scouts at the border the two families shared seen one sign of, Roger de Burgh, or his men, since Robert’s father’s death—and Robert had certainly had no reason or desire to continue the war, so had kept the peace with silence and distance, and hard work on the furbishing instead.

  Now, he could not help but wonder if the old man was ready to take up the fight again. Well, if ‘twere the case, then Robert would do all that he must to squelch the man’s bloodlust first, and keep the calm.

  But, if the man would not….

  Well, at least Robert’s outer wall was near to complete now, and he, and his clan, would stand and fight, and this time, win not just the battle, but the war!

  As he approached the guests, he cleared his thoughts and focused on the man at the lead, and was shaken again when he realized ‘twas not the father, but the son—the man who’d taken his sister’s virtue, then broken her heart, sending her into a season of immoderate sensuality—who’d requested entrance. And, Robert recalled with a hot shaft of jealousy through his middle, Guy de Burgh was also the man who’d fled with Morgana and attempted a clandestine marriage to her.

  A low growl erupted from him and Robert gritted his teeth. His fists clenched reflexively as he continued toward him, but he willed them open. For the sake of what was best for his clan, he must not grind the devil to a pulp without more current provocation. And, the man did tell them that he came bearing no quarrel.

  * * *

  The flash of violent hatred that passed o’er Robert’s countenance before he quashed it with a renewed look of wary welcome and keen interest sent a jolt of alarm through Guy. Tho’ he knew he still had much to make amends for where his vile treatment of Isobail was concerned, still he believed most of that enmity toward him would have been put to rest now that he’d paid Robert’s full debt to the King.

  Well, mayhap ‘twas best to behave as if he believed naught amiss.

  When Robert was but a few feet from him and said, “I welcome you to my holding, Guy de Burgh,” Guy slid from his horse and dipped a nod to Robert saying, “My thanks, Laird MacVie. I come bearing tidings that affect both our families.”

  “Take these men to the alewife’s cot,” his host said o’er his shoulder to the man that Guy assumed to be Robert’s lieutenant.

  On a turn toward the entrance to the keep, Robert replied to Guy, “Come inside and we’ll share some ale as well while we speak.”

  Guy was only able to gain a small, surreptitious impression of the furbishing thus far completed inside the walls of the fortress as the two of them walked together in silence. He’d seen the expansion that was being done to the northeast wall, of course, as they came up the road that led to the gates of the MacVie fortress, but was quite curious to see the changes within the walls, also. Ah, well, mayhap another time, if all went as he hoped.

  “How is your lady, Morgana?” Guy said into the silence that remained between them after Robert had ordered some ale be brought to them and they’d both settled on chairs by the hearth.

  * * *

  The fireball of malignant jealousy spread once again through Robert’s center, but was quickly replaced by seething determination. “She is well. She bears my son in her belly.” Robert would be damned to the fiery pits of hell before he’d tell this man, this competitor in all things, anything further regarding his wife. “What are these tidings you bring?”

  By the rapid lift and drop of one side of Guy’s countenance, as well as the spark of humor that flared e’er so briefly in his eye, Robert knew he’d somehow revealed his weakness—his jealousy—to the man, but Guy answered his question without comment on the other, and his countenance grew grim as he said, “My father is dead.”

  * * *

  Tho’ she was expected to await Robert’s arrival to escort her down to the evening meal, and ‘twas at least an hour until that time, Morgana, with a burst of rebellion she rarely acted upon, due to her strict upbringing with the nuns,
and her natural ill-ease at being unable to speak, flew to the chamber door, flung it wide and swept out the door, down the corridor, and on down the stairs. ‘Twas truly exhilarating! A bubble of mirth floated up and she felt her throat work in silent giggles.

  By the time she’d made it to the bottom, she could hear the deep sounds of two men’s voices coming from behind the closed doors of the great hall, and she did not hesitate, but simply heaved them open and stepped inside. The noise from her entry turned the heads of the two men toward her and, catching Guy’s eye, she sent him a wide smile and dipped a courtesy.

  * * *

  Robert’s eyes narrowed as he watched with interest his wife’s renewed vigor: Her cheeks, pinkened with health; the sparkle of her lovely smile; the limpid glimmer of merriment and wonder—and attraction?—in her blue eyes; all of which combined, seemed a near to palpable bright beam of light aimed entirely at, and for, Guy de Burgh.

  For the second time that day, Robert’s fists clenched at his sides, and this time, he did not relax them. He wanted desperately to tell her to go about her business, to leave them to their dealings, yet he knew if he did so, especially knowing his wife and Guy’s past bond, he’d only prove to his guest his shaken faith in Morgana’s loyalty that much more by doing so. “Morgana, I believe you are acquainted with our neighbor, Guy de Burgh from your time at King William’s court?” Lifting his arm, he summoned Morgana with a gesture of his hand. “Come, give him your welcome.”