The Crusader's Heart

by Kate Forrest

  “Aye,” Robbie said, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “So can Murdoch.”

  “Why did you say that!” Murdoch scowled at the prospect of dancing.

  “Then you can all be of help,” Isobel said. “Murdoch, would you kindly pair up with Flora? And Robbie, you can partner with Joan.”

  Joan and Robbie both blushed at the suggestion. Interesting. Isobel made a mental note of that for later. “Alex, pair up with Anna.”

  Isobel instructed everyone on what to do. Then she clapped a beat and sang a tune. She did not have a beautiful voice, but her songs were pleasing enough never to make the wolfhounds cry at court. Anna was a quick learner, and she was able to follow Alex around the great hall with perfection. Flora was a bit overexcited and stumbled through some of the steps; poor Murdoch followed along, trying to lead, but Flora would have none of it. Joan fumbled some of the steps, but Isobel wasn’t certain if that was the cause for the color in her cheeks or if it stemmed from interest in her dance partner. Perhaps the embarrassment is a combination of the two.

  Shortly after Isobel’s observation, Joan broke free of Robbie’s embrace and dashed from the room. Isobel stopped singing but continued clapping a rhythm the remaining couples could still dance to.

  “Did you step on her foot?” Alex asked Robbie with a laugh.

  How could Alex miss her reaction? Robbie looked equally as affected. That could be a good match. While not her intention to go sorting partners for Alex’s sisters, it was hard to ignore the signs that they were both interested in one another.

  Robbie walked from the hall, going in the opposite direction of Joan.

  “That’s good,” Isobel called. “I think everyone’s had enough practice.”

  “Come on, Murdoch,” Alex said. “Time to get back out to the practice yard.”

  Murdoch awkwardly detached himself from Flora, who stood looking after him with starry eyes. Oh, goodness. Are all the MacKinnon sisters lovesick?

  Anna took Flora by the hand and headed for the stairwell to their rooms; Alex came to stand beside Isobel and grinned.

  “I’ll wager you did not think I could dance,” he said.

  “Indeed, I was surprised. You are good.” Isobel wrapped her arms around his neck, looking around to make sure they were alone in the hall.

  “ ’Tis not the only thing I’m good at,” Alex whispered.

  “I recall, though the memory is becoming distant,” Isobel teased.

  “I will remind you soon enough, lass,” he promised, then captured her lips in a hot kiss.

  When he finally released her, Isobel felt dizzy. She looked up into Alex’s eyes, and the flame in those gray-blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Is all that intensity from passion or something more? Time would tell, she supposed, but not knowing left a bittersweet feeling in her heart.

  Chapter 27

  The next day, Alex found Robbie outside the keep sitting on a granite outcropping overlooking the sea. It was time to speak with him about Ewan Maclean. It would be dangerous, and he did not want to ask it of his friend, especially with Agnes still recovering, but he reasoned the marriage alliance could save them all and, therefore, was worth the risk.

  “Robbie,” Alex said, as he approached him. “May I join you?”

  “Of course,” Robbie said, moving his sword so Alex could sit beside him on the boulder.

  “A fine day,” Alex commented, looking out over the calm inner seas. The sun was bright, and the blue waters shimmered like the scales of the silvery butterfish.

  “I assume you didnae come to comment on the weather,” Robbie said.

  “I have a favor to ask,” Alex admitted.

  Robbie looked at him, waiting.

  “I need you to bring me Ewan Maclean,” Alex said.

  “Dead or alive?” Robbie asked.

  “Alive.”

  “You want me to sneak into Duart Keep to find him?”

  “Aye,” Alex said. “I want to propose a marriage alliance between him and my sister.”

  Robbie tensed and looked away. I should nae ask this of him, Alex thought. ’Tis clear he is still worried for his sister and does nae want to part from her.

  “It was wrong of me to ask,” Alex explained. “You should be with your sister now. Forgive me for not thinking.”

  Robbie finally turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but the islander said, “I will do it.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Aye,” Robbie said. “Joan marrying Ewan could keep your clan from being attacked. I will go.”

  “That is my hope,” Alex said, relieved he’d agreed. “But the alliance would be formed between Ewan and Anna. Not Joan.” Strange that he assumed Joan, Alex thought. But then Joan is the oldest.

  “Bringing him here the day of the wedding would be ideal,” Alex said. “With the feast Isobel is preparing, it will make us look as though we are coming from a position of power. Not begging.”

  “Agreed,” Robbie said. “Consider it done.”

  ****

  After Alex left Robbie, he joined his uncle in the stables where they mounted horses and departed for Iona. Alex was due to meet with Bethoc to discuss the Rood.

  “The men are coming along in their practice,” Uncle William said, as they cantered down the path to Fionnphort. “Especially Robbie MacDonald’s younger brother.”

  “Aye,” Alex said. “He’s a fine archer.”

  “I thought of offering the lad an opportunity to train with my men back in Ireland.”

  Alex glanced at his uncle and then looked ahead. It was a generous offer to foster the young man. Murdoch could learn a great deal from the gallowglass warrior and his men. “I am confident he would be agreeable.”

  “And Robbie?”

  “That I cannae tell you, Uncle,” Alex said. “Though I don’t see how he could turn down such an offer for his brother.”

  “He would learn much from me,” Uncle William said. He tapped a finger to his chin, as though considering something. “I’d make sure he was fed too and keep him away from the lasses.”

  “Robbie will be glad to hear it,” Alex said, with a laugh. His uncle never had children, but the idea of fostering Murdoch showed a fatherly side to the old warrior.

  They rode on in silence to Fionnphort. After leaving their horses with the MacKinnon guards, Alex and his uncle boarded a small watercraft, sailing the short distance to the isle. From the bay, they walked up Sráid nam Marbh. The last time Alex walked this stone path, he was taking his father to the chief’s final resting place, which was why Uncle William had asked to join him. He wanted to pay his respects to his late brother.

  They took their time up the path, passing by a drove of sheep guided by a young monk. Alex also studied the new nunnery, which had just been completed within the past year under the order of the Island King, Somerled. The red granite structure was familiar to Alex, for he’d encountered similar Augustinian nunneries on his travels.

  “I hear they brought some of the nuns over from Ireland,” Uncle William said, as they passed the nunnery.

  Alex nodded. “I heard the same, though it seems the prioress grew up in England—away from her father.”

  “Have ye met him yet?” Uncle William asked.

  “Nae,” Alex said. “You?”

  “Nae.”

  Alex was curious about the Lord of the Isles. He was a warlord with Viking blood. His older clansmen said Somerled saw an opportunity to control the Hebrides, as it was beyond the reach of both the Norwegian crown and the King of Scots. He’d come to power around the time of Alex’s birth, though he’d flexed little muscle on places like Mull and Skye. Somerled was invested in Iona and the holy life here, which gave Alex hope the Lord of the Isles would protect the Rood.

  Alex parted ways with his uncle at the burial ground and continued on to the abbey church. He passed the grand high crosses, ornately carved with Celtic symbols, and made his way inside. He stood in the nave, noting t
he sections rebuilt in his absence. He walked down the length of it, past the marble font, and down to the choir. The sun was generous, but the east-facing windows cast little light inside the stone church during this time of day. It was midafternoon, but the candles were lit in the aisles. The light flickered off the rough stone walls, where ferns grew. The fragile green leaves cascaded down over the arches and columns around the church. Alex took a seat on a bench and admired the stonemason’s work as he waited for the prioress.

  A short time later, Bethoc joined him in the choir. She took a seat beside him and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She wore the traditional garb of a nun, concealing her hair, ears, and neck. Her face was pleasing, and sincere kindness warmed her pale blue eyes. Though hard to judge her age, he sensed she was older than he.

  “ ’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Chief MacKinnon.”

  “The pleasure is mine, my lady,” Alex said.

  The prioress smiled like a fairy, captivating and welcoming. He understood the rumors now and why Isobel agreed with them: the prioress did have an enchanting way about her.

  “I wish to offer my congratulations to you and Lady Isobel on your upcoming marriage,” Bethoc said.

  “Thank you,” Alex said.

  “You have chosen your equal. She will challenge you and support you. Such things are rare,” she said. “You are fortunate.”

  “She makes me happy, and I hope to bring her the same measure of happiness.”

  “You will,” the prioress said. A confident statement, spoken like someone who had seen the future.

  I hope you are right, Alex thought, wanting nothing more than to bring Isobel joy.

  “You have much that occupies your mind, Chief. Let us speak on what worries you.”

  The time for pleasantries was over. “I am here to discuss the protection of the Rood.”

  The prioress nodded. “It is safe.”

  “There seems to be an alliance between the Duke of Lincoln and the Bishop of Edinburgh. Two attempts were made on the Rood on its journey here. I am confident more will be made,” Alex said. “As I believe you aware, the MacKinnon forces are nae what they once were. I question my clan’s ability to protect it.”

  “I am aware of your clan’s situation,” she began. “When I spoke with Lady Isobel, I told her my father would offer protection as well. I wrote and got word from my brother, Ranald, that our father is in Normandy. My brother, however, assures me arrangements will be made to guarantee protection of the relic.”

  “You are confident in this?”

  “I am,” Bethoc said. “In the meantime, I have hidden the relic. Only I know its exact location. I feel this is best until my father makes arrangements.”

  “I agree,” Alex said. The fewer people who knew of the location, the safer it would be. “In the meantime, promise you will come to me if you feel the relic is in danger.”

  “I will,” Bethoc said, standing. “Now I must leave you, Chief, for it is time for my prayers.”

  “Of course, my lady.” Alex stood as well. “You have taken on a great burden. I know David was grateful, as we all are.”

  “There is no burden in the care of a relic, Chief MacKinnon,” the prioress said, as she walked out of the choir and into the nave aisle. Alex joined her. She turned to face him; the light from the west-facing windows cast a glow around her. “It is the great honor of my life.”

  With that, she bowed her head and disappeared behind a wooden door off the nave. Alex took a moment in the abbey church, then walked back out into the afternoon sunshine, the high crosses covering him in shadow as he walked through the yard. He crossed into the royal burial ground, passing by St. Oran’s Chapel, which was built by Queen Margaret. Beyond the humble chapel lay the burial place of the great kings. Alex paused in front of Kenneth mac Alpin’s grave. The unifier of the Scots and Picts. The grave was weathered and aged by the centuries. The great king’s reign had ended in the 800s, but his history lived on.

  Soon, Alex was joined by his uncle.

  “Did you make peace with him?” Alex asked, as Uncle William came to stand alongside him.

  “In my own way,” he said. “He belongs here.”

  “Uncle?” Alex did not take his meaning.

  “Nae matter what was between us, yer father was chief. He had his failings, but he loved his people. He loved ye and yer sisters. And he loved yer mother.” Uncle William’s eyes welled up, and he shed a single tear. The tanned warrior brushed it away and turned to face the sea.

  “We are both at peace with him,” Alex said. He lightly patted his uncle on the back. “We will toast him tonight at the evening meal.”

  Uncle William nodded and cleared his throat. “Ah, that is enough of that. Tell me, did ye have a nice meeting with the prioress?”

  “Aye,” Alex said. He had not told his uncle the purpose of his visit. Few knew of the Rood and that was how he planned to keep it, for everyone’s safety and the safety of the relic.

  Speaking with the prioress had made him confident of one thing: she was the right person to care for the Rood. As to what help they could rely on from Somerled himself…he would have to wait and see. For now, he would continue to rely on his own men to guard Iona.

  “Come, Uncle. Let us return home.”

  They walked down the stone path once more and set sail in their boat. As the wind blew them across the water, Alex looked back to Columba’s church. There, standing by the sea, stood the prioress. Her head was bowed in prayer. With the sun at her back, she looked ethereal. Her words came back to him. You have chosen your equal. She will challenge you and support you.

  Alex smiled. Such things are rare and yet, I have found them in Isobel.

  ****

  Isobel surveyed the records before her. She and Alex had made some progress earlier in the week, but the accounts were still in shambles. She could understand why the clan was in such dire circumstances and why Alex had been frustrated with his father’s care of the clan. The old chief’s mismanagement had cost his people and children much, but Isobel was determined to set everything to rights. It just wouldn’t all be done in a day, and right now she needed a break.

  Isobel decided to go check on Alex’s sisters and see how the gown alterations were coming along. She looked in Joan’s room, then Flora’s and Anna’s, but they were nowhere to be found. Then she heard laughter coming from the guest quarters, where Agnes was staying. She knocked on the door and entered, finding the girls gathered around Agnes, who was sitting up in bed.

  “How are you feeling?” Isobel asked, taking in the scene. Agnes was working on one of the gowns. She was still pale, but there was brightness in the young woman’s eyes.

  “Very well, my lady,” Agnes said.

  “Please call me Isobel.”

  “Agnes is helping us with the gowns,” Flora said. “She’s a wonder with a needle.”

  “It’s true. She is much more talented than the three of us combined,” Anna said, pointing out some of Agnes’s work.

  Isobel approached the bed and studied the garments. “This is exceptional.” And it truly was. “You are very gifted.”

  “ ’Tis kind of you to say so,” Agnes said. Pink color filled her cheeks; she was embarrassed by the praise, but the compliments were well deserved.

  “Are you self-taught?” Isobel asked. She pulled up another stool so she could sit with everyone.

  “Aye,” Agnes said. “With my illness, there is little else for me to do. I started sewing here and there and found I had skill at it. Things progressed from there.”

  “If you are feeling up to it, perhaps you could do some wall hangings for the keep,” Isobel said. The rooms in the old keep were plain, and her limited collection of tapestries would only do so much.

  “I would love to,” Agnes said. “I have so many ideas in my head; it would be wonderful to start some of them.”

  “I will acquire the supplies you need,” Isobel said. “But you mustn’t overtire yourself. Robbie wou
ld not be pleased.”

  “He has a temper?” Joan asked, speaking for the first time since Isobel entered the room. Joan continued working on the hem of her gown, trying to show disinterest, but Isobel knew the islander intrigued her.

  “Nae, of course not.” Agnes laughed. “He may look like a brute, but you will find no one kinder than my brother.”

  “Truly?” Joan asked, looking up from her work.

  Agnes nodded. “You should talk to him. I am sure you’d get along.”

  “Nae, I couldn’t.” Joan looked flustered, which was not a look Isobel imagined was common for the fierce green-eyed woman. She was usually so serious and determined. At least, that was Isobel’s view of her from the limited amount of time they’d spent together.

  “Why not?” Flora asked.

  “I just mean that he is busy,” Joan stammered out. “I should go. I’ve things to do before the evening meal.”

  Joan quickly left the room, leaving her gown, needle, and thread lying on the bed.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Flora asked.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Isobel said. “I will take these things to her room.” She gathered up Joan’s dress and sewing supplies and made for the door but suddenly stopped.

  “You are all doing lovely work, but I wonder…” Isobel spun on her heel to face the women. “You are missing a dress.”

  “Nae,” Anna said. “Agnes has Flora’s, and I’ve got mine.”

  “Agnes has no gown,” Isobel said.

  “I dinnae know if I can attend the feast,” Agnes said. She looked down at her plain wool gown, then to Flora’s fine damask dress, and Isobel could see how much the girl would love a gown of her own.

  “Even if you are not well enough to attend the ceremony, you shall have a dress of your own, Agnes MacDonald.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Best not argue with her,” Flora said. “ ’Tis pointless.”

  Isobel smiled. “I will bring some choices by later, and you can pick.”

  “They are all so lovely,” Anna said. “You are sure to find one that suits you perfectly.”

  “You must show her your books too, Isobel,” Flora said.