“Aye, sir. Water as well.”
“Excellent. Well done.” He raised one brow, hoping Alec would understand his unspoken question.
As if realizing why Braden had come by and it pleased him, the lad smiled and gave him the barest of nods. “May I do anything else, sir?”
“Not at the moment.” He cast his gaze over the rest of the lads, remembering all too well how it felt to be with a group of boys his own age.
The life of a squire was not easy. They left home to train at a young age, some serving as pages as early as seven years. Being away from family and all that was familiar was difficult. With luck, Alec would make a friend or two here, though Braden knew he’d also meet just as many lads for whom he didn’t care. Some things never changed no matter one’s age.
Braden entered the keep and found the great hall where Ilisa stood speaking with several others, most of whom he’d met. The group included the man who’d called them into the great hall. He introduced himself as Monroe and advised that he served as Lord Graham’s steward.
With closely cropped dark hair, small build, and nondescript features, Monroe moved through the crowded hall. He handled his duties effortlessly, directing maidservants to provide more ale and making certain everyone had been properly introduced to each other while they waited for Graham to appear. Braden found much to admire about him.
When the steward’s attention was elsewhere, Braden eased Ilisa to the side to speak in private. “All is well in the stables.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “That is excellent news.”
“Anything of interest here? Is there anyone who struck you as odd?”
“I can’t say that I care for Monroe.”
He looked down at her surprised. “Truly? He seems fine to me. An efficient and considerate man.”
She glanced at Monroe as he chuckled while speaking to some of the other guests. “He makes me shiver when he looks at me.”
Braden nearly shook his head at her remark, uncertain how to respond. How could a stranger affect her that way? Especially one who completed his duties so well. “Noted. Anyone else?”
“I’m reserving my opinion on several others.”
“As am I.” Having her at his side, offering her opinion, and working with him was very helpful. Far more so than he’d expected.
He glanced about the large hall. A fire blazed in the massive fireplace which was big enough to roast an ox. Weaponry was displayed above it, and a colorful tapestry depicting a battle hung on the opposite wall. Few tables were set out, suggesting they weren’t expected to remain in the hall for long. Two impressively carved chairs sat before the fire.
“Here are our hosts now.” Ilisa dipped her head to where a finely dressed older couple entered and took their seats. “No sight of Graham’s daughter. ’Tis unusual that she’s not here to greet the guests, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” But Braden’s focus remained on the lord and his lady.
Graham’s dark wool tunic was artfully embroidered, and his wife’s rich blue kirtle was even more so. The girdle she wore upon her ample hips was filled with multi-colored stones along with the hilt of the small knife it held.
Still no sign of their daughter could be seen.
“What an impossible situation for her to be in,” Ilisa said.
“How do you mean?”
“Put on display for all to see. Held out like a prize to be won rather than a daughter. I wouldn’t care for it.”
“Aye, but you’re unusual. Some would love such attention. She could just as easily be waiting to make a grand entrance.” He’d met such women before who thrived on gaining the attention of as many men as possible.
“I could certainly see William’s wife, Eleanor, acting in that manner.” She shook her head. “To me, it would be dreadful.”
“We’ll learn soon enough what type of person she is. She’ll need to make an appearance eventually as the gathering is in her honor.” Braden offered her his elbow. “Shall we face the lion? See if he sees through our façade?”
Ilisa gave a mild shudder but quickly hid it. “Aye. I’d prefer not to have it hanging over my head any longer.”
He tightened his hold on her, proud she was at his side, and stepped forward.
~*~
Ilisa swallowed hard, fear gnawing a pit in her stomach. She studied Lord Graham, trying to observe him objectively. He was stocky in build, and his countenance was stern. His wavy grey hair held a hint of red as did his beard. Yet objectivity proved impossible. Part of her wanted to scream at him, demanding to know why he wanted her and her family dead.
The other part of her still wanted to scream but in fear as she ran from the great hall and left this madness behind. The reality of being here swamped her for a moment, stopping her breath. Who was she to attempt this deception? No one. She didn’t have the skills or the experience needed.
Responsibility held her in place. That along with the idea of the other people Graham had targeted for murder who were more than likely unaware of his terrible plot.
“Smile,” Braden whispered. “We will succeed. I’m willing to wager on it.”
She managed a smile and a breath, realizing how impossible this feat would be without Braden. “Unfortunately, Chanse isn’t here to do so with you.”
Thanks to Braden’s quiet conversation, she managed to act normally as they stepped forward and were introduced to their host. The lord’s gaze raked over her briefly before shifting to Braden.
“I haven’t seen you since you were a child,” Lord Graham declared as he studied Braden.
“I fear I don’t have clear memories of that time,” Braden said.
“I understand you spent many years abroad.”
Ilisa stiffened, wondering where the conversation would go. Graham’s wife, a plain woman with a mouth that turned down at the corners, said nothing more after her initial greeting. She stared across the hall, as though the conversation held no interest.
“Aye. I did most of my training in France just north of Poitou. Have you traveled there?”
Graham nodded slowly. “Once or twice.”
Braden offered a few details of the area before thanking Graham for his hospitality.
To Ilisa’s relief, they soon stepped away to allow the next guest to have a few moments of the lord’s time.
“What was your impression?” Braden asked.
“That I still don’t understand why he wants to kill my family and me.”
“Nor do I. With luck, we’ll get to the bottom of that. What else?”
“The lord and lady do not appear to be in a celebratory mood. I’d guess the purpose of this gathering is not to celebrate his daughter’s birthday.”
Braden nodded. “I would agree. Something else is afoot, don’t you think?”
“Luckily, that works well for us, does it not?” She looked up at him. “Someone else will be of the same mind.”
“Indeed. He won’t be the only one who appears filled with purpose. We shall ask questions, watch the others closely, and see who acts as Graham does.”
“Why do I doubt it will be that simple?” Ilisa had serious doubts as to whether they’d learn anything, let alone the names of the Sentinels or what Graham might do next. That information would be closely guarded.
“Because nothing ever is.”
She sighed. “But we shall try anyway.” Why did the idea of doing so make her feel tired?
“How do you feel about befriending Lady Graham?”
“That will be difficult. She doesn’t seem the friendly sort.”
“Do you have any notion how to gain her trust?”
Ilisa considered his question, keeping in mind that although she was uncomfortable, they were here for a purpose. And that purpose might very well save lives. She needed to set aside her fears, or at least attempt to do so. “I will do my best. If we can discover what she likes, I’ll make certain I like the same.”
“Excellent. Having something in common might be just what you need to strike a conversation with her.” Braden considered the lord and his lady for a long moment. “I don’t believe she cares for her husband.”
“I’d venture to say he feels the same.” Ilisa watched the pair of them as they greeted additional guests. They didn’t share looks with each other like most married couples. She appeared as though she’d rather be anywhere but at her husband’s side, while he ignored her completely.
“I’ll be interested to discover how the daughter fits into the family.”
“If she graces us with her presence.”
Braden smiled. “We’ll be on the watch for her. But for now, let us appreciate that we’ve successfully passed the first barrier of meeting Graham. Hopefully our luck holds, and we’ll discover useful information.”
Ilisa drew a deep breath, girding herself for the evening ahead which would be filled with more conversation.
But for the first time, a flicker of hope filled her that this mission might be a success after all. She tightened her hand on Braden’s arm, allowing his comforting presence to seep into her. She was becoming far too accustomed to having him at her side, but that was an issue she’d have resolve later. For now, she needed him.
Chapter Eleven
By the next morn, Ilisa had changed her mind. The mission was completely impossible. Especially with people such as Lady Gideon among the guests. Ilisa could only stare in disbelief at her latest outrageous statement.
“Oh, please.” The woman in question, the wife of a lord from Galloway, dismissed Ilisa’s shock with a wave of her hand. A hand that hadn’t had to lift more than a morsel of food in her entire life from what she’d told Ilisa and the other ladies. “Everyone knows Sir William Douglas opened the gates of Berwick to let in King Edward. The only mystery is why.”
Ilisa had done her best to ignore her snide comments last evening when everyone had gathered around the roaring bonfire in the outer bailey. The evening had been pleasant thanks to Braden, though they hadn’t discovered anything of interest. She’d smiled until her cheeks hurt.
This day had begun well enough. Then again, any morn she woke next to Braden made for a fine beginning. But all too soon, they’d stepped out of the cozy privacy of their tent into the bailey where she felt as if they were once again on display.
The morn had quickly spiraled downward soon after Lord and Lady Gideon had joined them. Unfortunately, Braden and Lord Gideon stepped away to speak with the other men, leaving Ilisa with the ladies.
When Lady Gideon learned Ilisa didn’t live far from Berwick, she’d raised the topic of the siege.
Her comment crossed the line of what was bearable to Ilisa. She couldn’t allow the accusation to pass nor could she protest vehemently. Who did the woman think she was to spread such rumors?
“I have to disagree,” Ilisa said with a lift of her chin. She didn’t care if she was supposed to be Lady Cairstine. No one insulted her brother. “What purpose would it serve? I heard the gate was opened because of English trickery. That they carried Scottish banners and those manning the gates believed them to be reinforcements coming to their aid.”
“I heard that as well,” one of the other ladies commented. “I suppose we’ll never know for certain. Not with Sir William locked away in some English keep.”
“Funny how those who win the day have a different version of events than those who lost,” Lady Gideon said.
“Since so many lost their lives in Berwick—men, women, and children alike—we must look to the future rather than the past and do all we can to make certain it never happens again.” Ilisa stopped herself from adding that was the reason she was here—to do all she could to avoid such a terrible fate.
Lady Gideon pursed her lips but said nothing more on the topic.
As quickly as possible, Ilisa made her excuses and left the group, blinking back tears as she walked away. Her first impulse was to seek Braden.
Nay. That was a terrible idea.
She needed to find a quiet place, somewhere away from watchful eyes, false smiles, and meaningless conversation. To think that even one person believed William had simply opened the gates hurt more than she could explain.
If only she could return home. Yet she couldn’t. Her home wasn’t safe. But the idea of putting up with people like Lady Gideon felt...
“Impossible,” Ilisa muttered to herself as she walked past the blacksmith who hammered at his forge, holding a glowing piece of metal with tongs. She didn’t think she could endure a sennight of this.
Braden had far more patience with people than she. Obviously, she was better suited for St. Mary’s. She refused to acknowledge the hollow feeling that swept through her at the thought of taking her vows. Being with Braden caused her to question her decision. But when Sophia, Garrick, and Chanse returned, Braden would leave with them now that he’d recovered. Alec would go as well. She couldn’t risk becoming dependent on the knight. This mission was temporary—as was her time with him—nothing more.
A brief time alone would surely settle her nerves. But finding such a place in this busy holding would be difficult. The bustling village within the walls of the bailey meant people were passing by continually.
Left with few options, she headed toward the stables before tears got the better of her. Explaining them would be difficult as Cairstine had no ties to Berwick or what had happened there.
A few lads were hard at work, mucking out stalls and seeing to the horses. Ilisa paid them no mind, aware Alec was with Braden at the moment. She moved toward her mare’s stall, appreciating the warm welcome the horse offered. Its gentle eyes and soft nose, the ears that pricked forward at her arrival, did much to ease Ilisa’s troubled heart.
“She’s beautiful.”
Ilisa turned in surprise at the feminine voice. She’d thought she’d left all the other ladies in the bailey. A young woman stood in the shadows near one of the other stalls.
“Aye,” Ilisa agreed, sniffing to hold back the tears. “She has an excellent disposition as well.”
“I noticed her earlier.” The woman stepped forward into the dim light, and Ilisa realized she must be near Ilisa’s own age though she didn’t recognize her from the guests she’d met. Her homespun brown kirtle and plaited dark hair pulled forward over one shoulder suggested she might be one of the villagers. “She’s very friendly.”
“I’m pleased to hear she didn’t misbehave when I wasn’t here to remind her of her manners.”
The woman smiled as she drew nearer. Attractive but a little shy, something about her brought out Ilisa’s sympathy. Her dark eyes held Ilisa’s for a moment, as though taking her measure.
The horse nudged Ilisa, making both women chuckle. “Demanding, aren’t we?” Ilisa asked, rubbing the mare’s nose once again. “Always wanting more attention.”
“You’re one of the guests here for the...celebration?” the woman asked.
“Aye. And you?”
“I live here.” She didn’t appear pleased.
“I needed a moment away from the crowd,” Ilisa said, not certain what caused her to admit that.
“’Tis a bit much, aye? All the people. All the chatter.” She shook her head. “The stables are one of my favorite places to escape. Quiet and peaceful.” She reached out a hand to stroke the horse’s neck. “The occupants in here are so pleased to see you each and every visit.”
“No one judging you on what you say or do.” Ilisa bit her lip, afraid she said too much.
“Or what you wear.”
Ilisa let out a relieved breath. “Exactly. Not that the gathering isn’t grand.” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. This woman might be one of those who’d helped prepare for the festivities. She didn’t want to offend the one person she’d spoken to that she actually liked.
“Right. Grand.” The woman sighed. “I’m afraid I prefer horses over people. They’re much less complicated.”
“Another point on wh
ich we agree.” Ilisa turned at the sound of male voices approaching. “It appears as if our quiet is already coming to an end.”
The woman hesitated a moment then turned to face Ilisa. “I know of a place we could sit a short distance from the gathering if you’ve of a mind to.”
“That would be lovely. I shouldn’t be gone overlong, but a brief time away would be nice.”
“This way then. ’Tisn’t far.” She led the way out of the back of the stables through a narrow doorway Ilisa hadn’t realized was there.
“I hope I’m not keeping you from your duties,” Ilisa said as they walked.
“I’ve finished most of my chores. A brief rest will cause no harm.” She smiled at Ilisa. “I’m Bela.”
“Such a pleasure to meet you.” Ilisa hesitated, tempted to give her real name. But nay. The risk was too great, even with a villager. “I’m called Cairstine.” At least that wasn’t a complete lie. She was called Cairstine—while she was here. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”
The path they followed skirted the edge of the village and led to steps set against the castle wall. The sounds of the busy village were muffled here.
Bela climbed the steps to the top of the wall and Ilisa followed. “This spot is hidden from the guards. I think ’tis lovely here, a good thinking spot.”
Ilisa joined her on the walkway that ran the length of the wall where it was wide enough to sit. “The view is wonderful.” The village was blocked by a small copse of trees, and the rolling hills outside the keep spread as far as the horizon, giving the impression of solitude. “Have you lived here all your life?”
“Aye. I’ve never been farther than the next village. What of you? Where do you call home?”
The lie she’d spoken so many times since their arrival faltered on her lips. Yet she forced it out. Despite her instincts telling her she may have found a friend, who knew if Bela could be trusted? The risk was too great. “We live not far from the English border.”
“Have you been to Berwick? I’ve heard ’tis pretty there along the river Tweed.”
“Aye. ’Tis true. The city sits in the bend of the river, and the keep is high on the rise above. The market there brings in people from all over the world.”
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