Thistles and Thieves

by Elizabeth Preston

  And now, there they were on a giant wooden plater, all dead and smoky smelling. At least they were no longer draining the life-blood from someone. She watched a Highlander man select a whole lamprey. He lifted its limp body and bit into its side as if he was biting into an apple.

  Tam motioned to the server girl, and she carried the platter over. But instead of choosing a lamprey for himself, he said, “Offer the platter to Juliette.”

  Her heart fell to her knees.

  “You’ve no notion how tough this Sassenach lady is,” he boasted. “There’s naught feeble about this English lassie.” He smiled at her with such pride and such expectation that she had no choice but to look directly at the plate of smoked vampires. Her eyes flicked back to the Scottish girls, just to see if they were watching. Of course, they were. If she shied away now, their mean, small-minded opinions of Sassenachs would be confirmed. And she’d also disappoint Tam.

  The server held the platter closer. Juliette willed her arm to rise and her fingers to clamp over the smallest of the grotesque creatures. It wasn’t too slimy—drier than she’d remembered, but her fingers still ached to drop the parasite on the floor. Instead, she took a deep breath and raised it to her mouth. It was like holding a tapeworm.

  Looking again at Tam, she sunk her teeth into its side. Chomp. There, take that, Lamprey. That’s for biting me when I was young. Somehow, she swallowed, and the disappointed look on the girls’ faces made it all worthwhile.

  Vienna was also watching, but not with disappointment. Her face was alive with glee and mayhap a sprinkling of awe too. Awe was good and as it should be, considering Juliette was her older sister.

  Fortunately, a wolfhound bounded over, so she tossed the rest of the lamprey at him. He swallowed it whole. “Love dogs. Can’t stand the thought of them going hungry.”

  Tam roared and tossed his arm around her shoulder. “You’ve a tough spirit and a soft heart.” Then he turned to the Scottish girls and asked, “How’s that for an awesome lassie, even if she is English?”

  When she faced the Scots girls again, she caught their eye. Their expressions were amongst the most hostile she’d ever seen. No matter. Tam was smiling at her as if she was the biggest and brightest star in the sky. And that’s what counted.

  Chapter 7

  Tam invited Juliette and Vienna to his solar to enjoy a mug of the castle’s finest uisge beatha. He had a gift for the girls—an ornate French basket that would be perfect for gathering Scottish flowers during their two-hundred-day visit. But the real reason for the summonsing was to discuss the king’s latest idea—this one being more crazed than usual. It accentuated Tam’s frustration at having to wait to be made Laird of Ross and being able to move away. It was tiresome to be always on hand and always at his king’s beck and call.

  “Tis a beautiful present. Thank you, Tam,” Juliette said as she jumped up and pressed her enticing lips, scarlet as rosebuds, against his cheek.

  He felt himself stir beneath his plaid. Guilt, sharp as a bee sting, pierced his soul. His eyes flashed to Vienna. Had she noted his mounting excitement? Nay, fortunately. She’d been too busy rolling her eyes at her sister’s bold action.

  “King Alexander has had another of his ideas,” he said, wondering how he was going to portray this latest regal whim in a positive light.” Juliette and Vienna fussed over the gathering basket and were barely listening. “He wants us to journey to the Firth of Moray on the coast. We’re going to watch a race.”

  “What sort of race?” Vienna asked, swinging the basket over her arm and glancing at her reflection in the looking glass.

  “A boat race. The king has built two sailing vessels—apparently both miniatures. He claims that each boat needs only three sailors. One boat is a Birlinn, a type of cog, and the other is a Viking longship, except it isn’t long.” He sighed deeply.

  “Sounds fun,” Vienna said, passing the basket to Juliette to try out.

  “I’m pleased you feel that way, Vienna, because the king has insisted that you two be included in his plans. We are all to journey to the coast and meet him there. Can you both ride?”

  Juliette’s face slumped. “I’m not much of a horsewoman, but Vienna more than makes up for my lack. Horses never do as I say. When I shake the reins and tell a horse to move, the wretched thing abruptly stops. Every horse I’ve ever ridden acts as if it would rather be ridden by anyone other than me.”

  For Tam, that news was both a blessing and a curse. If Juliette was that hopeless on a horse, she’d have to ride behind him on the same destrier. Of course, her added weight would be nothing to a beast like Thor. Trouble was, he might enjoy the feel of her against his back, her breath caressing his neck, and the press of her thighs against his legs.

  “Juliette, you will ride Thor with me, and Vienna can choose one of the palfreys in the stable. Laird Lewis will be accompanying us to the coast, not that we need his help or his protection, of course. But the king is insistent. Never mind. Tis a short journey to the Firth of Moray.”

  Vienna’s cheeks pinked. “Laird Lewis. He’s that Highlander we met a few days hence and the one who protects the king.”

  “Aye, him. There are many others that protect His Highness as well.”

  Juliette piped up. “Vienna, best you remember Lord Beau.”

  But Vienna waved her away. “I’m remembering Laird Lewis.”

  “He’s a honey-catcher, that Lewis,” Tam said, “but no need to be afeared, Vienna. I’ll nay let him lay as much as one improper finger on you.”

  “I’m not afeared,” she said with way too much enthusiasm.

  He raised his brow. “Mayhap you should be.”

  Juliette laid the basket on the ground and then paced the room. “Will you be watching the race with us, Tam?”

  “Nay. I’m to skipper one of the wee boats. The king has rounded up a group of men who sailed as young-ins and know how it’s done.”

  Juliette stopped her pacing and stood still. Tam noticed all her attention was on the finely stitched tapestry on the far wall. It was one of Helena’s first works. His wife had been a giddy girl, newlywed and brimming with delight, when she stitched the thing. Helena had sewn the Gaelic words for home and happiness all over the cloth. It was a sentimental piece Tam used to adore, but now he knew it was time he put it away for safekeeping.

  “The boat race won’t be an elaborate affair, but you should know that some o’ the clansmen going won’t speak English. Many clan folks in Scotland only speak Gaelic. Of course, the king’s inner circle all speak the three languages: English, Gaelic, and French.

  Juliette turned. “Teach us some Gaelic, Tam, right now.”

  “Aye, alright. Let’s order some of that tea that you English are so keen on, and then we’ll learn a few words.”

  “Cailin,” he said, pronouncing it slowly. “That means girl in Gaelic.”

  Juliette repeated the word till she had it safely stored in her head. “Next one.”

  “Bearla. That means English.”

  Already Vienna had lost interest. “Lord Lewis speaks excellent English,” she murmured, as if needing no other reason to learn. “I shall take this beautiful French basket to the kitchen garden and collect mint and rosemary for our chamber.”

  Juliette did not seem to notice her sister leave. She might be the poorer rider of the two, but she appeared to have a passion for language, and from what Tam could tell, she had talent. Just listening to those Gaelic words roll from her tongue warmed him far beneath his flesh.

  ~ ~ ~

  On race day, the sky promised much. But Tam was wary of promises. When they arrived at the coast, he spotted the king and his melee gazing out to sea. Tam followed their eyes. Two boats bobbed about at the edge of the stony shoreline. One was a small Birlinn, and the other was an exceptionally small model of a
Viking longboat.

  He sighed and rubbed his fingers through his hair. He knew what was going on. His king had purposely built a Celtic ship and a Viking ship, so he could race them against each other. He claimed he needed to know which boat was fastest. Of course, there’d be hell to pay if the Celtic boat lost the race.

  The king signalled them over. The sisters held their skirts, trying to negotiate their way through the sinking sand. Even on the flat, the wind rushed around their shoulders lifting their hair. They darted into the king’s skin tent, keen to escape the arms of wind snatching at their clothing.

  Laird Lewis chose ocean view seats and ushered Vienna to him. The younger sister was wearing a bright blue tunic, and there was something of a songbird in the way she looked and moved, flitting about in excitement.

  Trailed by his protectors, the king strode to the centre of the seating. “Tam, my friend, what do you think of my boats?” He slapped Tam on the back, turning him toward the sea. Tam studied the two boats—both small and of different design.

  “Who’s to skipper the Birlinn?”

  “Tavish. He’s been sailing since he was in nursery linens, so he’s capable, but he’s nay as skilled nor as . . . disciplined as you.”

  Tam looked over at Tavish. He was standing, pressed up against the camp table, swilling ale. Mayhap he was quelling his fears. Many young bucks were vying for his attention, keen to be chosen to sail in the Birlinn with him, desperate to prove their strength and their sea legs.

  “I take it I’m to be captain of that short Viking longboat?”

  The king skirted the question. “Bring ale,” he ordered, sending his minders running. Once they were on their own, the king said, “Now, Tam, we both know you are by far the most accomplished sailor. We also know how disciplined and . . . discreet you can be. Clearly, we cannot let the Viking boat beat the Birlinn. You have the strength of character to hold back when holding back is called for. I fear that Tavish must win at all costs, no matter which boat he skippers. He is young, hot-headed, and desperate to impress. So, he must have the Birlinn. I could not risk putting him in the Viking longboat. We would indeed appear foolish if the Viking ship crossed the finish line first.”

  Tam massaged his temples. “I shall sail as fast as a soused snail.”

  “Good man. Now go pick your crew. But remember, they are tall on eagerness and short on experience. They will all want a chance to show off to you. Choose two men who will follow your lead, and make one of those men Angus because he knows how to hoist a sail.”

  Tam guided Juliette toward her sister. Then he moved around the table taking the full measure of the men on offer.

  “Angus and Kenneth, you’re both with me. Eat up, lads, because we have a full day of labour ahead.”

  They all ate quickly and finished their picnic before the noonday sun was high in the sky. The king’s men readied the boats, filling them with skins of ale and oatcakes, dried berries, meat, and nuts.

  Tam looked up at the sky and noted the rapidly building cloud cover. He turned his face westward and felt the fast breeze slap his cheek. It was an eager and restless wind, one that would quickly fill a sail.

  “Sire, I’m not sure we’ve got ourselves the best of days for sailing,” he commented, feeling concerned.

  The king laughed. “You’re in the Viking longboat, and that be that, Tam. I know full well you want the Birlinn, but, my friend, you could race a wooden barrel and still win. You’ve nothing to prove. Besides, if the Viking ship turns out to be fast, I need a skilled and diplomatic sailor to make her slow.”

  Tam shook his head. “That’s not it. I’ve an issue with the weather, not the boat.”

  “I’ll sweeten the deal for you, then.” He sidled up to Juliette. “Lassie, how are you on the water?”

  Juliette laid her sliced pear down and rose from her stool. “I have my sea legs, Your Highness. My father also had a boat.”

  “Champion.”

  The king turned back to face Tam. “Then you shall have an extra passenger in your Viking longboat. The delectable Juliette will sail with you around the Firth of Moray.”

  “But Sire, that is not a wise decision. Look at the cloud cover.”

  The king spoke over his protestations, addressing Juliette instead. “Now, my dear, do not worry about your sister. Vienna will be safe here with Laird Lewis and myself.”

  “Your Majesty, no.” Tam pushed his protests into his ears. “Not only is that Viking longboat new to me, but worse still, I fear we’re in for mighty rough weather.”

  The king laughed. “None knows better than you, my friend, that this world is far from perfect.”

  “But Sire, it isn’t right to put Juliette into a boat and send her into an angry sea. Look at the choppy waves. They act like a jilted bride.”

  The king’s face lost some of his shine, a sure indication that Tam had overstepped the mark. He guided him away from other ears. “That small Viking vessel has a single sail made of the toughest wool. Note the small squares, sewn into one strong sheet. Now look at the reef points and the ropes of tarred moss-fir. The hull, clinker-built of course, is from the finest oaks I grow. I have every faith in you, Tam, and even more in my boats. Now, prepare yourself for your journey.”

  Tam turned away. He walked back to the table to where Kenneth stood, toying with the king’s newly carved chess pieces.

  Juliette was also standing by the table, watching Kenneth play. “You play chess, Kenneth?” she asked.

  “Aye, I’m a fan.” He moved another piece, playing against himself. “Do you know the rules of the game, Juliette?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I play every chance I get. All my sisters do too. I’m the champion though.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Vienna yelled from a few seats away.

  Juliette turned back to face Kenneth and mouthed, “Yes I am.”

  “What piece do you like best?” she asked him.

  Tam smiled. It was exactly the sort of question only a woman would ask.

  Kenneth laughed and rubbed his jaw. “I’d have to say the pawn. Pawns are by far the best. They live to guard the borders while the pretty knights and rooks strut around, and for all their armoury and fancy appearance, they still manage to get themselves killed.”

  “I thought you’d like the king,” she responded.

  Tam leaned in and said in a conspirator’s whisper, “The king. He’s a piece that gets all the glory and does absolutely nothing with it. The king loves being king and will do anything to keep his crown. He’s always craving war because he falsely believes that war will bring him riches and glory. He puts all the weight of conquest on his warriors’ shoulders and does naught to help them achieve it. The king hides, and that’s what he does best.”

  Juliette’s eyes flew to King Alexander, but Tam already knew that the king was otherwise engaged, discussing the various merits of his boats and the rules, or lack of them.

  Tam caught Juliette’s eyes. She was clearly alarmed at his little speech. Her gaze flickered nervously from him to Kenneth, trying to gauge Kenneth’s reaction. Kenneth smiled a lazy grin, a smirk that said, Tam’s right. On the strength of that smile, Tam decided he’d chosen well and that Kenneth was the man for him.

  Then Kenneth asked the same question of her. “What’s your favourite chess piece?”

  “The queen of course. I love the queen because everyone fears her, and no one knows what she will do next.”

  “I’ve met your elder sister,” Kenneth said, “I met her a few moons back.”

  “You’ve met Sybilla? Really?”

  “Aye. She lives in Caithness Castle at the top o’ the Highlands. She’s a lot like you.”

  Juliette looked fit to burst from the weight of her questions. “How is she? What’s her husband like? Has the castle
sickness passed as she claims it has?”

  Before Kenneth could answer, she turned to Tam. “We have to go visit her before these two hundred days are up.”

  He nodded.

  “Promise?”

  He caught Kenneth’s eye. “Is the older sister this bossy?”

  “Oh aye, and worse.”

  Tam smiled. “This, I have to see. Juliette, you have my word.”

  Then the king clapped his hands and yelled, “All sailors to their boats.”

  Juliette ran to Vienna and hugged her tight. “I’ll see you in a few hours, sweetheart. Stay out of the wind, and stay warm.”

  The king’s hangers-on, all comfortably seated under the protection of his tent, clapped and cheered with gusto and yelled, “Let the race begin.” Then they reached for their wine goblets.

  Tam strode toward the waterline wearing a face of stone. He would get this silly race done and Juliette safely back on dry land as soon as he possibly could. Turning back, he watched her grip Vienna again tightly. Then the king called her name, so she darted to him, curtsied, and accepted a fur-lined waterproof cloak. The king had no right putting Juliette’s young life in peril. Any sort of journey carried its risks, but with the sky and the wind the way they were, the current risks were unacceptable.

  Under the king’s insistence, the crowd left their stools and gathered at the water’s edge. Tam looked at the young Highlanders assigned to him.

  “Angus, you’re on the sail. Kenneth, you’ll take the steering oar. I’ll tackle the ropes and all else that needs to be done.” He glanced down at Juliette who’d rushed to stand by his side; her boots were still dry. She was looking strangely cheerful and mayhap even excited. Hopefully she’d never know the risks she ran that day.

  Clearly, the sudden temperature drop meant nothing to her. He scanned the jagged waters of the firth. He was sure those waves were choppier now than they had been a short while ago. Tam fingered the St. Christopher medallion hiding under his shirt. He’d need all the luck the patron saint of travel had to offer. A thread of worry weaved into his chest.