The Swan Maiden

by Susan King

  “King Edward has more than enough swans on his rivers as it is,” he said. “Why does he take the time to send out writs for Scottish swans when he has a war to concern him?”

  “The king has a special fondness for the birds. They are good omens. And he particularly wants Scottish ones.”

  “Nae content with owning all the swans in England, is he,” Laurie muttered. “Sir Sheriff, where are the wee lads? We didna see them as we came in today. We want to make sure they are well. Their sister is concerned about them.”

  “Her kinsman the abbot was here this morning and saw them. I invited him here to discuss the orders for Elladoune and Loch nan Eala, some of which will affect him and his monks.”

  “Oh? How do my orders affect the abbey?” Gawain asked, frowning in surprise.

  “You will know shortly. The boys are with the priest at their prayers and lessons just now. They have been more courteous of late. My wife has promised them a trip to the market fair next week, and I have given my permission. And I have decided to send them with her into England when she leaves in a few days. You will see them at the fair—”

  Gawain leaned forward. “You do not have the authority to take those children out of Scotland,” he growled.

  “We shall see. Now you will want to hear of your orders.” De Soulis opened two parchments and pressed them flat in front of him. “This writ is from the king himself,” he said, showing them the red seal and trailing ribbons. “ ‘Greetings,’ etcetera.” He waved his hand impatiently. “He requires that a written statement by Lady Juliana Lindsay be sent to him at Lanercost Abbey.”

  “Lanercost?” Gawain asked. “He was to go to Carlisle.”

  “The king has been weakened by illness—’tis temporary, his physicians say—and rests at Lanercost before going on to Carlisle. The journey from London has been very draining. His health this year has not been good.”

  “A written statement from the lady?” Gawain asked then. “What does he expect in that? And who is to deliver it?”

  De Soulis perused the page. “He wants her sworn fealty in writing, and wants an affidavit signed by witnesses that she made a pledge of … ‘her loyalty and that of her kin and acquaintances, and all those attached to the lands of Elladoune, to the king of England.’ ” He passed the parchment to Gawain.

  He took it and read it. “ ‘If the lady cannot write a fair hand, she is to make her mark upon a written oath, and two witnesses, civic and religious, must swear that she has said the oath aloud and with good intention.’ ” He glanced at Laurie.

  This was unexpected luck. Still, he doubted that Juliana would be any more willing to swear fealty this way than she would have before the king himself. She simply would not do it, and had avoided all of his efforts to rehearse her pledge. He suspected, by Laurie’s skeptical frown, that his friend had the same thought.

  “Well, at least he doesna demand that she come to court,” Laurie said. “That is good—if the lady agrees.”

  “Indeed.” Gawain looked at the sheriff. “Is Edward so ill?”

  “He wisely attends to more important matters,” De Soulis answered. “Once the oath has been accepted, I believe the king will release her from her formal captivity. I will witness the oath-saying myself, of course, as sheriff of this glen. Her kinsman the abbot will do for the religious representative. I will have my own priest present, too, for I trust him better.”

  “My lady wife can handle a pen for her name, I think, though she was not schooled for writing out words. When will the signing take place?”

  “At the market fair,” De Soulis said. “Will she say the oath aloud? If she refuses, she will not fulfill the king’s order.”

  “I will explain that to her,” Gawain said carefully.

  “I suspect that she speaks to you, even if she insists upon her foolish silence with the rest of the king’s knights.”

  “My wife has found ways to communicate with me,” Gawain said, staring evenly at him.

  “No doubt,” De Soulis drawled. “Tell her that she must comply, or she will be at the mercy of the crown. Bring her to the market fair next week. She can say her oath in full public view. Plenty of witnesses.” He smiled flatly.

  Gawain narrowed his eyes, but kept outwardly passive. He still doubted Juliana would say an oath under any circumstances. “We shall see what happens,” he said. “As for her brothers, if you try to take them away, be sure that I will get them back from you.”

  “We shall see, as you say. As for the rest of these orders, a messenger came yesterday from Perth. He brought a writ from the king himself, and a writ from the commander of the king’s forces. De Valence has decided to close down Elladoune.”

  “Close it down,” Gawain repeated. He clenched his jaw.

  “You knew it might happen,” De Soulis said smoothly. “You understood you were there temporarily.”

  “I expected a garrison to be sent there, since you are so concerned about rebels in that area.”

  “I argued to close the castle. I can deal with the rebels myself, through my own authority.”

  The decision came as a shock. A host of consequences battered his mind. Not only would he have to turn out his own kinfolk, but he would have to turn Juliana out of her home again. And he would lose the only home he had known with her. No doubt he would be sent elsewhere—England, somewhere in Scotland, even Wales or France. His heart slammed hard in his chest.

  “Why withdraw forces from there now?” Laurie asked.

  “De Valence has decided that it is not necessary to place a garrison there. Extra men will be sent here to Dalbrae, rather than to Elladoune. We will extend our patrols along the length of the loch and into the hills. This can be managed with fifty extra men at Dalbrae.”

  “Ah,” Gawain said bitterly. “Send fifty to Dalbrae rather than a hundred and fifty to Elladoune. A savings of men, time, supplies, and coin.”

  “Exactly,” De Soulis said.

  Flexing his jaw to restrain his anger, Gawain merely nodded. He played with the stem of his cup, his mind whirling.

  “What, then, for the rest of us?” Laurie asked.

  “You both may be useful here. Or anywhere that Sir Aymer decides to post you. I will inquire on your behalf, of course.”

  “Of course,” Laurie snarled.

  “And Elladoune?” Gawain said. “Closed for how long?”

  De Soulis took a sip of wine, pursed his lips, and slid the other parchment page across the table toward Gawain. “This is the king’s latest writ with a new list of orders. It states what is to be done with Elladoune.”

  Gawain scanned the neat French script until he came to the lines that contained the orders he sought. He stared at it, then read it again.

  Until no stone remains standing.

  “What is it?” Laurie asked.

  “Elladoune,” Gawain replied softly, “is to be burned, and every stone torn down.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Friend or foe, he is wed to your cousin, so he is your kinsman now,” Malcolm said, speaking Scots for James Lindsay’s benefit. “Tell me this, Jamie—can Gawain Avenel be trusted?”

  Catching her breath, Juliana looked at James. Seated beside her, he sipped his ale calmly. They both faced the abbot across the table in the small, whitewashed solar of the abbot’s house.

  “He is a man of integrity,” James replied. “But I wonder where his fealty lies. The man I knew would help any man, woman, or child who needed it. But I dinna know the man who left us as he did and renewed his oath to King Edward. My instincts tell me I could trust him with my life, but his actions contradict that.”

  “He ran with your men, then rejoined the English. You told us that incredible story,” Malcolm said. “Difficult to believe ’tis the same man you knew.”

  Juliana listened, feeling stunned. James had recounted events in Gawain’s recent past that she had never suspected. Last year, Gawain had joined James’s rebels for a while, giving them crucial help; then h
e had left suddenly after a skirmish, without explanation. Gawain had told her nothing of it himself.

  Aware of his previous transgressions, including when he had helped her at Elladoune years ago, she could easily believe that Gawain would risk his own life to help Isobel and James. And she could even imagine him declaring for the rebel cause. Why he had left them was another matter.

  Whatever had happened, she believed in his core of integrity. Yet if he had stayed with the Scots, there would be no obstacles between them now, she thought sadly.

  “Did he betray you?” Malcolm asked. “Is he a spy for them?”

  “It could be,” James admitted.

  Juliana gasped softly. Betrayal, Gawain had said himself of his crime. “But you said he sided with the Scots!”

  “His inheritance is in England. He chose the safe course,” James said. “As for betrayal—it may be. I dinna know.”

  “Gawain has been helpful to our friends,” she said in his defense. “He may be English, but he is not like most of them.”

  “There is something you both must know,” Malcolm said, his tone grim. “I met with the sheriff this morning, who reported some disturbing news indeed. First of all, Juliana must declare her loyalty to King Edward before the sheriff and witnesses.”

  “If it keeps me away from the king’s court, that is welcome news,” she said. “And mayhap we can find a way around the oath.”

  “That may be, but listen—there is more. De Soulis intends to send Alec and Iain to England with his wife soon.”

  “Ach Dhia!” Juliana felt the news like a blow. “He doesna have the right!”

  “ ’Twillna stop him. He told me something else. Elladoune is to be closed,” Malcolm said bluntly. “The king’s commanders have decided it doesna serve them to garrison it.”

  Juliana stared at him, stunned. She had never expected that. “Its gates shut? Will Gawain—be sent elsewhere?”

  “Very likely. He is a king’s man.” He frowned. “We didna suspect how much a king’s man he is.”

  “What do you mean?” James asked sharply.

  “De Soulis said that Gawain is preparing a report for Edward’s commanders on the lay of the land here. He is to describe the terrain and detail where troops can camp, where water sources are, the distances between landmarks, the best routes for cavalry, and so forth. Did you know that, Juliana?”

  She shook her head mutely, feeling as if her heart sank like a stone. She was aware of Gawain’s daily patrolling and the writing he did sometimes at night, on parchments that he locked into a little box with the few valuables he had brought with him. When he had told her the pages were only some thoughts he wanted to record in ink, she had assumed that he had scholarly habits because of his upbringing and education.

  What a fool she had been. She cupped a hand over her eyes for a moment, then looked up. James was watching her steadily.

  “We have all seen him riding out in the forests and hills each day,” Malcolm said. “He has been collecting the information for the king’s commanders to use in fighting Scots.”

  “He wouldna—” She wanted to defend him, but doubts flooded her. Apparently there was much she did not know about Gawain.

  “The English hold Elladoune,” James told Malcolm. “If ’tis to be closed, Gawain will be the one to shut its gates. And his report to the king will gain him some much-needed favor.”

  “This canna be,” Juliana gasped. A sense of betrayal swamped her, followed by a rush of fear. Now she could lose Elladoune again—and with it would go her hopes and dreams.

  “Cousin,” James said, reaching out to touch her arm. “We will find some way through this,” he said in a soothing tone.

  “But, Jamie, he wouldna be so traitorous as to close Elladoune, and toss us all out, and leave us—all to gain the king’s favor! ’Tis betrayal—I canna believe this of him—”

  “It may be duty rather than betrayal,” James said.

  “What can we do?” She bit at her lower lip fretfully, thinking of the people who had found shelter and welcome at Elladoune. “Where will our friends go now?”

  “We will gather everyone to leave the castle,” the abbot said. “As for Gawain, there is naught we can do about him. Only he knows what he does, and why he does it.”

  Tears welled, and Juliana put a hand over her eyes as she tried to regain her composure with a quavering breath.

  “My dear girl, this is hard, I know. But we have matters to decide,” Malcolm said gently. “Now we must gain Alec and Iain back ourselves, and Niall and Will as well.”

  Jamie leaned forward to discuss that quietly with Malcolm, and while they spoke, Juliana looked away. She would lose Gawain—perhaps she had already lost him out of her life, but he was not gone from her heart. No matter what he did, she did not think she could ever stop loving him. Her cheeks heated as she recalled deep kisses, and so much more, in the privacy of their bed. She had been so content, so foolishly in love.

  If he had done what they said, and planned this betrayal of all of them, he was not the man she had thought him. Had she been so misled by her dreams and her heart? A tear slid down her cheek, and another. She dashed them away.

  “We will pay the ransom ourselves,” Malcolm was saying.

  Juliana looked up. “How?” she asked. “We have no coin!”

  “I have a scheme,” Malcolm said. “And a scheme to fetch the wee ones back as well.” He smiled, and she saw the effort and the sadness in it. He, too, was affected by the devastating news about Elladoune—and about Gawain, she thought.

  “We do have a source of gold,” Malcolm continued. “The archery competition.”

  “A bow-shooting contest?” James asked.

  “ ’Tis held each summer at the time of the midsummer market,” Malcolm explained to him. “The final prize is an arrow—the Golden Arrow of Elladoune, ’tis called. ’Tis solid, good gold. The competition has been held for generations. Lindsays of Elladoune have always won the arrow—until the last few years.”

  “Ah, I have heard of it,” James said. “Juliana’s father won it many years in a row, and his father before him.”

  Juliana nodded. “For six years, English bowmen from the garrisons have taken the prize.” She looked at Malcolm. “Even if we could win that arrow, ’tisna enough gold to pay two ransoms. And we would have to melt it down.”

  “I am thinking the sheriff will pay good coin to keep the Golden Arrow in his garrison’s possession,” Malcolm said.

  “Ransom the arrow to pay the fee?” James asked.

  Malcolm nodded. “De Soulis has boasted all year that his men have the arrow now and will win it again. He says ’twill always be kept at Dalbrae. That pride will cost him.”

  “An intriguing idea,” James said. “Win the arrow, and charge him well for it—enough for two ransoms.”

  Juliana sat straighter as an idea occurred to her. “My father always won that prize … I think I could take it.”

  “You?” James tipped his head, considering her. “You do have the skill for it.”

  “Of course she does.” Malcolm smiled broadly at her.

  “I have the bow skill,” she said, “but I am a woman, and under the custody of the crown. De Soulis would never allow me to compete.”

  James shrugged. “He doesna need to know. You could pass for a youth—though you had best hide that shining hair and … your shape.” He lifted a brow expressively. Malcolm cleared his throat.

  Juliana nodded. “I can do that. But the Golden Arrow of Elladoune is an unusual contest. The shot is difficult, nearly impossible for some. I have never mastered it myself, and have hardly attempted. The fair is but a week from now. Even if I enter the competition, I dinna know if I can take the prize.”

  “You can,” James said, and Malcolm nodded agreement.

  “Jamie, I know you must leave soon, but can you stay long enough to help me practice?”

  “I wish I could, lass. I came here only to see that you were safe, and to
conduct a matter for King Robert. I willna even stay the day, for I must go west again to meet our king, and then south to Wildshaw. My wife’s child will be born in a few weeks, and I intend to be there.”

  “A child!” Malcolm congratulated him, and Juliana smiled at Jamie’s news. Inwardly, her heart thundered.

  She wondered if she had the courage to pull off this ruse, yet she had no choice. The Golden Arrow had to come back to the Lindsays—not only for the sake of tradition, but so they could bribe De Soulis with it and free her brothers.

  “Well, cousin?” James asked. “Are you decided?”

  She nodded. “I will do it.”

  “Good,” Malcolm said. “Now, let me tell you my scheme to gain back the wee lads. The sheriff said his wife will bring Alec and Iain to the fair to watch the archery.” He looked at each of them. “And then we will snatch them back.”

  “But stealing them away would be dangerous and might cause a skirmish in the town,” Juliana said. “What about the Golden Arrow? We can use that to get the lads back from him.”

  “We will take advantage of that for the older lads. First, ’tis most essential to steal the bairns. ’Twill be easy enough if they attend the Golden Arrow competition, since that is held just outside Inchfillan’s gates. We will inform our rebels, and make a plan.”

  “But the rebels willna go against De Soulis, especially in public like that,” Juliana said. “They fear him and his black armor! They willna risk his wrath directly.”

  “Black armor? Ah, then I have heard of this man,” James said. “I doubt ’tis as frightful a garment as rumor says.”

  “I agree. Sometimes I wish the man would take a wound wearing that armor,” Malcolm said. “Then everyone would lose their fear of him and his armor quickly. Just a wee wound.”

  “Father Abbot!” Juliana said, pretending shock at his confession. James lifted a brow.

  Malcolm shrugged. “Somehow we must convince the rebels that they needna fear De Soulis, so they will agree to steal the lads away. I will talk to them. For now, we agree—Juliana will take the Golden Arrow.”

  “There is one other matter to discuss,” James said. “King Robert will be disappointed to learn that my mission here wasna successful.”