"Come here, child." Her mother's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and she reached out to Aila with concern. Aila ran to her and buried herself in her mother's arms, beginning to cry once again. Holding on tight, Aila was enveloped in soft fur and warm velvet. She inhaled the soft scent of rose petals, and it brought back memories of long ago being cuddled by her mother. It was a comfort she had not known for a long time, and it soothed her soul.
"What did he do to ye, child?" Lady Graham finally asked, her voice soft and worried.
"Nothing," Aila said, her voice choked. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to gain control of herself.
"Ye can tell me, child. What did that bastard MacLaren do to make ye cry?"
"He did nothing, Mother. He ne'er came for me."
"What do ye mean, Aila? How did he hurt ye?"
"He dinna hurt me. I dinna see him at all. I wasna invited to the feast, and he ne'er came for me last night. But in the stables—"
"What?!" Lady Graham stood up so fast, she tossed Aila onto the floor, landing her flat on her bottom. "He dinna come for ye? He rejected ye on yer wedding night? How dare he treat me this way! I will no' be ignored!" Lady Graham tried to take a step, but the pain in her feet caused her to sit back down with a grimace. "Aila! What in heaven's name are ye doing on the floor? Get up and go fix yer face. Ye look a mess."
Aila picked herself off the floor, brushing the rushes from her skirt, and washed her face in the basin as commanded.
"Now sit down, shoulders back. We dinna wish the servants' tongues to rattle." The servants were ushered back into the room to present the food and then commanded to leave once again.
"Now we must consider what to do," said Lady Graham as she accepted a bite of food.
"But, Mother, there's naught I can do. I'm married now." Aila wanted to tell her mother about what had happened in the stables but feared this might only provoke a new bout of anger. Her mother would be furious if she knew Aila had been out riding. Lady Graham flashed Aila a wicked smile, and all thoughts of confiding in her mother vanished.
"Married, yes, but consummated, no. Ye've got options, my dear, until he beds ye."
"Oh?" Aila's eyes widened.
"I ken it be time ye joined the convent."
"But the wedding…" Aila was still not sure she understood.
"Since that fool of a husband ignored ye last night, the abbot can have the marriage annulled." Realization struck Aila. Her mother was right; the abbot would be certain to champion her request for an annulment, particularly since the convent and his abbey were built on her dower lands. The Church would not be likely to turn away her inheritance. Besides, Sister Enid had written to encourage her to avoid marriage and take her vows. She valued the nun's opinion, so it must have been a been a mistake to agree to the marriage.
Her mother stopped eating for a moment and gave her daughter a penetrating glance. "Ye dinna want to stay married to such a man, do ye?"
Aila sighed. She had wanted to be married to him, very much at one point. But now… she thought of his rejection. "No, Mother," said Aila sadly, "I dinna want him for my husband."
"Good. 'Tis all settled. Ye'll go to the convent today and ask for sanctuary and an annulment."
"But, Mother, how will I get there? 'Tis not the day I usually visit the sisters, and I doubt they will let me go on my own." Aila went with an armed escort to visit the convent once a week, but those trips were arranged in advance. To leave the gates, she would need the permission of her father, or perhaps now, her husband, and she had no idea if they would grant such a request. Too bad she had not thought of this earlier. She had ridden past St. Margaret's this morning. She could sneak out the secret passage, but the stable would be too crowded during the day to leave unnoticed.
"I could leave at night," Aila started to say.
"Nay, child. Ye must leave today, as soon as possible, before that ugly brute of yers gets his hands on ye."
Aila was about to respond that MacLaren was not at all ugly, but wisely swallowed the comment and said, "But how can I leave the castle?"
Lady Graham smiled at her daughter. "Watch and learn." She ushered the maids back into the room. Maggie and Senga gathered the food tray and spread out a clean tablecloth.
"Maggie," said Lady Graham slowly, causing the maid to jump and cringe.
"Aye, m'lady?"
"How is that beau of yours?" Lady Graham asked, her tone suspiciously sweet. "Is he no' one o' our soldiers who guards the gate?"
"Aye, m'lady," replied Maggie, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.
"Does he have duty today?"
"Aye. He begins his shift after Matins," replied Maggie, confusion clear on her face as she glanced from Lady Graham to Aila.
"And where is yer young suitor now?"
Maggie's eyes grew large. "I dinna ken."
"How verra odd, for I swore I heard him talking wi' ye outside my door no' too long ago."
All the color drained from the maid's face. "Oh, m-m'lady, I be so s-sorry."
"Dinna worrit yerself," said Lady Graham, her voice smooth. "I ken young love. Why are ye no' married?"
"Well… I…"
"'Tis yer lack of dowry, no? Well, I'd like to help ye. Bring me the chest." Aila brought her mother the small chest of cedar and polished brass and opened the lock with a small key that hung around her mother's neck.
"Here are ten coins, my dear," said Lady Graham. "Will that no' provide for yer dowry?"
Maggie gasped. To her, it was a considerable fortune. "Thank ye, m'lady. I dinna ken what to say."
"'Tis how I reward my faithful servants who help us in our time of need. Ye do wish to help us, aye, Maggie?" Maggie nodded her head vigorously, eyeing the stack of coins on the table.
"That's a good lass. All I need from ye and yer beau is a soldier's tunic and guaranteed safe passage from the castle."
"Nay, m'lady, I coud'na. My Brody will no' accept a bribe."
"I'm no' bribing Brody. I'm dowering ye, and I'm ashamed at ye for suggesting different," said Lady Graham, her voice once again harsh. "I only supposed ye'd wish to help Lady Aila to reach the safety o' the convent afore her husband returns for her. He surely has no love for her. I shudder to think o' what he may do to her once he gets her back to that pile of rocks he calls his home. I suppose it be nothing to ye if poor Aila is beaten, thrown in the dungeon, or worse."
Maggie was not the only one in the room to look horrified. "Nay, m'lady." Maggie gulped. "Do ye ken he will treat her badly?"
"I've heard his cruelty has no end. His public rejec tion o' her will be only the beginning o' his shameful treatment o' her. 'Tis yer choice, Maggie. Aila's life is in yer hands. I wish to protect my daughter, and I'm willing to reward all who do."
Senga spoke up. "I ken the way to the convent. I can lead her there safely."
"Thank ye, Senga. I need two tunics. What do ye say, Maggie?"
"Aye, I'll help ye," said a wide-eyed Maggie, looking at Aila.
Events were moving much too fast. Dressed in a soldier's tunic and trews, her hair somehow crammed into a cap. Aila walked down to the lower bailey with Senga—also dressed as a soldier—by her side. Her mother's description of her peril had convinced not only Maggie but Aila of the necessity of this plan. Above all, she wanted to seek guidance from Sister Enid. Since her friend had written to encourage her to avoid marriage and take her vows, Aila guessed Sister Enid would be in full support of this plan.
When they entered the stables, chaos reigned. The stable master still lay on his death bed with his family and many who worked in the stables around him. This left the stables ill-staffed and hectic. Aila was glad to be in disguise. She still didn't know if the person in the stable had seen her, or if he wished to do her harm. Retreating to the safety of the convent seemed a good idea.
"What d'ye want?" snapped the assistant stable master as Aila walked in the door.
"Swift mounts to carry an urgent message," Aila repli
ed, trying to keep the hood of her traveling cloak covering her face and her voice low.
"Alright, alright, keep yer breeches on. I'll be wi' ye in a minute."
"I'll help ye," said a young stable lad, rushing up. Aila recognized him as Maggie's brother, who must have been alerted to the plan.
"Go find him a good horse," Aila said, nodding to her maid. "I'll choose my own." Aila walked directly toward a particular stall. If she was indeed leaving Dundaff forever, she could not leave Shadow behind. Saddling him quickly, she backed Shadow out of the stall to find Maggie's brother standing there aghast.
"Nay, m'lady," he whispered. "Let me find ye a more suitable mount."
Aila looked the nervous lad straight in the eye. "I'll be taking my brother's horse." The stable lad looked around. The others were all busy with other work, not heeding them in the least. He simply nodded and walked away.
So far, so good, thought Aila as she tied a small bundle of clothes to the saddle, mounted, and rode toward the main gate.
"Messengers from Lady Graham," called Aila to the gate guard, wishing to be gone but cringing internally at the lie.
"Permission granted," called back the voice of the guard, most surely Maggie's beau. She hoped they would have a good marriage and passed through the portcullis. Reaching the other side, she breathed deeply. She was free.
Eleven
AILA STRUGGLED TO HOLD BACK SHADOW, AS HE WAS accustomed to being given free rein once outside the castle. Her maid would never be able to keep up with her, so Aila constrained her mount to a more sedate pace. Having traveled to the convent many times, Aila hardly required an escort, but her mother liked the idea of having someone with her on the journey. Senga must have been swayed heavily by the sight of gold when she boasted she knew the way to the convent, for several times she would have led them astray had Aila not set her right.
By the time they reached St. Margaret's, Aila was in quite a state. She doubted her reasons for coming and wondered if she was doing the right thing. She felt guilty for sneaking away from her new husband and even more guilty for marrying him in the first place. She turned it round in her head but could not decide who had the greater demand on her loyalty: her father, her mother, her husband, or the Church. Utterly confused, she stabled her horse and sought out her spiritual advisor and friend, Sister Enid.
The Sisters of St. Margaret were trained to be concerned only with the things of God and renounce worldly interests, but the sight of Lady Aila, wearing soldiers' garb and muttering broken fragments of different languages as she wandered dazedly through the convent, raised more than one eyebrow. Aila was a wreck by the time she finally found Sister Enid sitting in the gardens.
"Aila?" asked the nun with surprise. Sister Enid was a middle-aged nun with sharp, discerning blue eyes, a warm smile, and the faintest of accents borne from her native France. Her hands had become stiff and painful over the years and now were so deformed she was no longer able to write. Her spiritual guidance was still frequently sought both in person and by courier, though now she used a scribe to respond to the letters.
"Sister Enid." Aila collapsed at the nun's feet and began her anguished tale. "I've made such a mess of things. I dinna get yer missive until after I married MacLaren, but he dinna come for me, so I can still join the sisters if the abbot can get an annulment, which Mother says he will, due to the dowry. Oh, and the stable master was murdered, or at least he will be once he dies."
"Saints above," exclaimed Sister Enid. "Clearly a lot has happened since I saw you last. Come sit here beside me and be still."
"But, Sister, I need to ask for sanctuary."
"You are in trouble?"
Aila nodded vigorously.
"Have you prayed for guidance?"
Aila slowly shook her head.
"These walls cannot protect you as well as the Lord. Breathe your prayer and be still."
Though her mind was racing, Aila tried to do as her friend suggested, using the breath prayer she had been taught. Lord Jesus Christ, she prayed as she inhaled, have mercy on me, she breathed out. As she focused on her breathing, she became more aware of her surroundings. They were sitting on a stone bench by the wall of the convent. Before them was the garden, with lines of vege tables, mostly beets and turnips. There were rows of dark, rich soil, too, freshly tilled for more planting, and the smell of dark, rich earth. The birds chirped around her, singing their cheerful songs. She became more mindful of the garden and felt more centered and peaceful.
"Now please tell me what has brought you here today," said Sister Enid.
Feeling considerably better, Aila began to relate the events of the past day. Sister Enid listened without comment except to remind Aila to breathe. Aila told her everything—the wedding, receiving Sister Enid's letter, her talk with MacLaren on the turret, his rejec tion of her on their wedding night, the secret passage, MacLaren's chase, the attack on the stable master, and her escape from Dundaff. When Aila finally finished, she was still unsure what to do but was relieved for the cathartic experience of telling all.
"Well now," said the nun. "That was a lot to tell. Why do you think your father would have you marry so suddenly? And why to MacLaren?"
"I dinna ken," said Aila, thinking back on events. "Though father did say to MacLaren that some may no' be pleased wi' the marriage. And he said he woud'na let McNab have me. I wasna able to ask any questions, since my father left right after the wedding to put out the fire."
"Fire?"
"There have been some accidents of late, and some fields have been burnt. Folks seem concerned about it, but I dinna give it much…" Aila's eyes opened wide as she considered new, frightening scenarios. "Could we have been attacked?"
"It seems a possibility."
"Then maybe my father needs MacLaren for the warriors. MacLaren is most ferocious." Aila remem bered him appearing out of the mist like the devil's own, sword raised high. "But woud'na someone tell me if we were attacked? Shoud'na my father ask me if I wanted to form an alliance with the MacLaren clan?"
Sister Enid raised an eyebrow.
"Well, he should," said Aila indignantly.
"Tell me about the stable master. You say the maid said it was an accident?"
"Aye, but I dinna ken seeing a chair, like she said. What I saw was the bloodied end of an iron bar. Someone was in the stables wi' me, but I ran. Maybe I should have called out for help, but I was so scared."
"Did this person see Fergus?"
"He must have. He had a lantern, and he walked right by him."
"What did the person do when he saw Fergus?"
"Nothing. He chased me up the stairs."
"Aila," said Sister End, patting Aila's hand with her gnarled one, "I think in this case you were right to run."
"Ye ken he was the killer? Gone back to the stables to make it appear an accident?"
"'Tis a mystery," said the nun, her eyes gleaming. "There is much ado at Dundaff to be sure. I have something else to tell you, too. I did not send you that missive."
"Ye dinna? Then, who?"
"Who would profit from your entering the convent?"
"Surely a person o' the Church woud'na deceive me."
Sister Enid smiled again, waiting patiently and saying nothing.
"Oh, Sister, surely no' the abbot…" Though even as she spoke the words, her suspicions were raised. Father Barrick served as the abbot for the region, residing at the abbey about five miles away. The abbot was a large, gruff man who made Aila feel most uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because she had never before known a priest to carry a sword and wear armor under his robes.
"Or someone who wished ye to leave the protec tion of Dundaff."
Aila put her head in her hands with a groan. "I've acted the fool."
"You're not foolish. You're unaware of the lengths to which a person will go for his own gain."
Aila looked at her friend as if for the first time. She knew very little about this woman's history or what had brought her so m
any years ago from her native France. "How far would they go, Sister?" Aila asked softly.
"Aila, I fear for you. You are an heiress now. I wonder you never thought on that."
"I ne'er kenned I would inherit more than my dowry. After my brother, there were my uncle and cousins who would inherit before me, but they died, too." Aila shook her head, realizing her thinking had been much too small. "I thought only of my own grief, my own daily responsibilities, no' of what it all meant."
"Well, clearly someone has been counting your worth."
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