When he looked back, Elizabeth and the woman were on their feet, the mercenary fast behind them. They walked together in silence and he realized that they traced a circle on the fields. Nine times they walked this circle, and on the ninth circuit, three ravens descended from the sky. One landed on a corpse Alexander had not seen before, another on a stone. The third scooped up some small item, like a box, that was on the ground where Tynan’s ghost had appeared, and carried it to Malcolm.
That raven looked familiar to Alexander, for it had silver on its brow. Had there not been one with such a mark named Melusine?
The trio walked into the midst of the circle they had marked and the man seized the stone. They retraced their steps perfectly, even as the ravens screamed and bobbed their heads. They passed Malcolm, then the woman bent to take something from the soil.
A knife’s blade flashed in the light of the sunrise.
He saw Elizabeth remove another and the man another.
The rock was cast far away, and it cracked loudly when it landed.
The fair haired woman returned to Malcolm’s side. He looked to be stirring, like a man snared in a dream. She knelt beside him again, then framed his face in her hands and kissed him. The raven beside him croaked and bobbed its head, seemingly with approval. When Malcolm sat up, the bird took flight, leaving whatever it had carried on the ground. Malcolm’s expression turned to awe as he picked it up and turned it in his hands. He reached down and lifted something from the ground that sparkled in his hand, and smiled at the fair woman. They embraced in truth then, and with such joy that Alexander knew this not only was Malcolm’s wife Catriona but that theirs was a love match.
He could have no argument with that.
The first light of the sun changed the scene before Alexander’s eyes, and he saw dozens of men awakening just as Malcolm had. They appeared to be dazed and more than one had holes in the soles of his boots, which Alexander saw because they studied them in wonder. If they had known of the Fae dance before, they must have forgotten the warnings.
He found Malcolm standing beside his own steed, the woman’s hand fast in his own. “You ride to my aid,” Malcolm said with real pleasure.
“I regret that I arrive too late,” Alexander said, humbled by his own doubts.
To Alexander’s surprise, the item brought by the raven looked to be their grandfather Merlyn’s inlaid box, the one in which he had kept all his legal documents and treasures, the one that had been lost in the destruction of the old keep.
That was not the only marvel for him to witness on this day, though.
Malcolm offered his hand, though, no disappointment in his eyes. “I thank you, Alexander.” He gestured to the woman. “Catriona, this is my brother Alexander, Laird of Kinfairlie. Alexander, meet my lady wife.”
“Our fare is meager,” Catriona said. “But I would beg you come to the hall and break your fast.”
There was an invitation Alexander would not refuse.
Another marvel awaited them in the great hall, for all the furnishings of the old Ravensmuir were piled upon the floor, as if they had been cast out of the ruins by some nameless force. Malcolm exclaimed with surprise at the rugs and trunks and cups, his recognition of them most clear.
Alexander glanced over the finely made hall and thought his eyes deceived him. For Tynan stood in the shadowed portal to the kitchens, a proud smile on his lips as he watched his nephew and heir. Alexander might have called Malcolm’s attention to the sight, but when he blinked and looked again, the portal was empty.
He chose to believe that Tynan’s labor in this realm was done, and all resolved to that man’s satisfaction. Indeed, no one could look at the new Ravensmuir, much less its laird and lady, and find fault.
It was beyond good to have Malcolm home again.
Saturday, June 26, 1428
Feast Day of Saint Anthelm
and the martyrs John and Paul.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
They came from Kinfairlie for the weddings.
The day dawned sunny and clear, with promise of a warm afternoon. Catriona believed the party would arrive before midday, so she had scarce slept the night before. She did not have near enough hands, even with the aid of those of Malcolm’s comrades who had remained, Malcolm and Vera.
The tapestries found in the great hall on Midsummer’s morn had been hung and the trestle tables set up in the hall. Indeed, with such treasures, the new Ravensmuir looked as if it has stood for more than a decade in this place, not mere months. Malcolm’s comrades had begun to build the chapel on the point. It was not completed, but its altar had been adorned with flowers and garlands hung from its waist-high walls. Fires had been kindled on the hearths that morning but Catriona and Vera, and the men had stacked wood alongside to feed them all the day long. Rafael and Amaury had ridden to hunt and returned with three stags, all of which were on spits in the kitchen’s new fireplaces. Bertrand had kindled those fires and turned the spits, his dogs as watchful of the roasting meat as he.
Malcolm’s shout came all too soon for Catriona, for she wished all to be perfect for his brother’s first glimpse of the new Ravensmuir. She had donned the kirtle Lady Eleanor had given her and already the laces could be tightened more than a week before. She was fairly bursting with milk, even though Avery had a lusty appetite. Vera braided her hair and pronounced Catriona to be a radiant bride. They hastened to the hall, Avery in Vera’s arms, and Catriona let Malcolm take her hand. They waited on the threshold of the hall, inside the hedge of thorns and she watched the party appear.
They were so fine that the sight fair stole her breath away. The banner of Kinfairlie was held before them, the golden orb upon it snapping in the breeze. The foremost steed was large and as black as midnight, its caparisons in the hue of the house. Laird Alexander wore no helm and his dark hair glinted in the sun. To his left rode Lady Eleanor, so straight and fair in the saddle that Catriona could only aspire to learn to ride and to do it so well. She saw Laird Erik and Lady Vivienne, mounted upon their ebony steeds, then Ruari upon his beloved chestnut palfrey. Lady Elizabeth rode another black horse alongside Lady Eleanor and Catriona noted how Rafael watched her—and how astutely Elizabeth avoiding glancing at Rafael. There had been no word of any price she might have to pay for speaking inside the circle, and Catriona hoped there would not be one.
Malcolm drew her attention to two more black steeds, his eyes lighting in recognition of the couple. “Look! Rosamunde with Padraig! This is a gift unexpected, though Alexander had said they came to visit.” Rosamunde, Catriona knew, was a much beloved aunt, and the last one who had plied the family trade in religious relics.
Behind the family was an entourage remarkable for its size. Catriona recognized the brewster’s wagon and horse, as well as that used by the baker. She could not count the wagons that followed, though she saw that they were heavily burdened. She guessed that the man in plainer garb was the priest, Father Malachy, whom Ruari had said he would invite.
She lifted a chalice brimming with golden ale as the party entered the bailey, welcoming Malcolm’s family with her gesture. She was nervous to act as lady of the manor for this first visit, for she feared to make a mistake.
But Malcolm’s family put her immediately at ease.
Laird Alexander was the first to dismount, as was right and proper, and he strode immediately to shake Malcolm’s hand, and then embrace him. Their greeting was hearty and genuine, a sight fit to warm Catriona’s heart. She lifted the cup for Alexander and he sipped of it, his blue eyes dancing with humor. “I think my brother most fortunate to have won such a bride, Catriona. I thank you for your welcome.”
“And I, sir, thank you again for the assistance of your lady Eleanor.”
Lady Eleanor sipped of the cup before kissing Catriona on both cheeks. “You look so well,” she said with pleasure. “And how fares the boy?”
“Avery is well,” Catriona said, gesturing to Vera. “For he has had the be
st care.”
“Another bride,” Eleanor declared, kissing Vera to that woman’s obvious discomfiture. She tickled Avery beneath the chin. “He is a robust boy, to be certain. At your request, I have brought Greta from the village to be his wet nurse. I hope that suits you well.”
Catriona was nigh overwhelmed with gratitude, but then the company began to descend upon them in truth. Malcolm was embraced by his family with an affection that bode well for the future, and he introduced each in turn to his lady wife. The cup was nearly drained by the time Rosamunde took her sip, and her companion, Padraig, winked at her in his obvious happiness.
Malcolm seemed intent upon Rosamunde’s reaction, and she stepped back to survey the hall with an appraising eye. “It is good,” she said to his evident relief. “And I shall expect to see every corner of it.”
“And so you shall. I never thought to see you so soon.”
Rosamunde smiled. “I had a feeling it was time to return to Ravensmuir. Fortunately for you, or at least for your bride, I saw fit to make some acquisitions en route. We have gifts aplenty!”
“Then let us all enter the hall. You are most welcome.”
There seemed a sign between them for as Malcolm turned to invite them into the hall, Alexander raised a finger that halted all the company. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned and pointed back down the road to Kinfairlie, and all the company caught their breath as one.
A company of black steeds—destriers, mares and foals as well—their coats of gleaming ebony, their hooves polished and their tails shining in the sun, galloped toward Ravensmuir’s gates. Catriona could not count their number, and their hooves thundered against the ground like an approaching storm. They raced as if born to run, magnificent creatures that they were. Only four of them were saddled and Catriona guessed the men were ostlers who rode them. The magnificent beasts appeared to need no guidance from the ostlers, as if they knew the way home to Ravensmuir.
And were glad to be so destined.
“Zounds,” Rafael murmured, more impressed than Catriona had ever heard him. “Such majesty!”
“A proud legacy, to be sure,” Alexander agreed. “You did not ask for their return, Malcolm, but you are home and their breeding is your birthright. Ruari said the stables were in good repair, and as you brought provisions to Kinfairlie when you entrusted them to my care, I bring the same to you.”
“And there is seed,” Eleanor contributed, her words making Malcolm turn to her in surprise. She smiled. “Your lady wife sent word, asking if we might spare some, for you would see the fields tilled again.”
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you truly mean to administer Ravensmuir as it should be,” Alexander said.
“Your kindness exceeds all expectation,” Malcolm said, and Catriona was glad to see him nigh overwhelmed in his turn.
“It is no small thing to have a good neighbor,” Alexander said. “When we have others with ambitions near our borders.”
“I doubt we shall see much of the earl soon,” Malcolm said.
“He has need of new boots,” Catriona said and all laughed together.
Alexander winked at Catriona. “And now we must excuse the bride, that she may be dressed for her nuptials.”
Catriona would have protested but she had no chance. She was swept into the hall and up the stairs to the solar, surrounded by an enthusiastic group of women. Eleanor and Vivienne and Elizabeth all might have been her own sister, Rosamunde an indulgent aunt. Mairi, Astrid and Catherine ran around the solar, exclaiming upon the changes and demanding explanations of all, even as Rosamunde opened trunks and displayed their gleaming contents.
There were silks and velvets and cloth so rich that Catriona scarce dared to lay a finger upon it. There were stockings and fine leather shoes and gloves, a wardrobe fit for a queen and worth a king’s ransom.
“We made you this,” Eleanor admitted and shook out a kirtle in a shimmering blue the hue of a summer sky. It must have been silk for it had a shine about it, and the hems were lavishly embroidered with silver.
“It is not the best embroidery,” Elizabeth said. “Though it is my best. Truly, if you want a marvelous hem, you must ask it of Isabella or Annelise.”
“It is the most beautiful kirtle that ever I have seen,” Catriona admitted, a lump in her throat at their thoughtfulness.
“And this one will be long enough,” Eleanor said with a laugh. “Come along, your husband awaits.”
As they bustled around her, ensuring that all was exactly right, Catriona had to blink back her tears of happiness. She had a family, as she had never had before, and because she had never known such joy before, she was determined to protect it forever.
A treasure such as this deserved no less.
* * *
Malcolm saw to his guests’ comfort, then found Rosamunde by his elbow.
There was a sadness in her eyes and she seemed unusually emotional. It was clear she wished to ask him something, and Padraig gave Malcolm a nod. They walked across the inner bailey, toward the sea, together, and Malcolm thought his aunt meant to give him advice. Perhaps she did not know where to begin.
But he knew what he had to tell her. “I saw him, these past months,” he said and her head snapped up. “Tynan’s ghost.”
“Is that who moved the furnishings of Ravensmuir out of the ruins?”
“I believe so, strange as it seems. I could not venture far into the collapsed keep myself, certainly not far enough to retrieve any such tokens.”
“But you went into them.”
“Just here.” Malcolm indicated the entry where he had sat night after night. “I took refuge in this nook, out of the wind, and I felt as if I were in his company.”
Rosamunde smiled sadly. “For he is ever at Ravensmuir.”
“No longer. Alexander said he waved farewell and disappeared.”
“He could see him?”
Malcolm nodded. “Not I, though I would have paid any price for a single glimpse.”
“As would I,” Rosamunde said, sighing heavily. She touched her fingertips to Malcolm’s arm. “Make no mistake: I am fortunate beyond all in Padraig and I know it well. I love him with all my heart.”
“Or all of it that is yet yours.”
She looked at him warily.
“Catriona has told me this week that her foster mother believed that once you surrender a part of your heart to another, it is no longer yours to reclaim. She taught Catriona to love boundlessly and often, the better to have more love to give. I think it wise counsel.”
“A foster mother of good sense,” Rosamunde mused. “It seemed I have something in common with your new bride.” She smiled a little. “I will never forget Tynan, but we could never have made a good match.” Rosamunde shook her head. “We were both too stubborn and held different things in high esteem.” She bit her lip and sat upon the rock where Malcolm had spent so much time, sliding her hand across the surface of stone. “I have come to believe it is better this way. Although he disappointed me in our parting, I can love him still, for he simply was the man he was.”
“I dreamed that he advised me not to make his error.”
“Tynan did not err. He could not have chosen differently. If he had, he would not have been the man I loved.” Rosamunde smiled sadly. “And if we had remained together, our differences would have driven us apart. Nay, neither of us would have changed willingly, and both would have resented any compromise. That would have destroyed our love, and that would have been more tragic.”
“Padraig knows this?”
“Padraig only knew me when I loved Tynan. He has never sought to change me and has never wished that I were other than I am. I adore him. We make each other laugh and we greet the day with a passion for adventure.” She smiled at Malcolm. “We are sufficiently alike that our match is an excellent one.”
“Do you dream of Tynan?”
“I have.” She flicked another look at Malcolm. “The last time I dreamed of him,
he bade me make haste to Ravensmuir for a wedding. Then he kissed his fingertips, as so oft I have seen him do, and faded to naught. I knew then that I should never dream of him again.” She frowned anew. “I am glad it is because he has found his peace.” She smiled then, her expression wistful. “Though I should not be surprised that he would linger until Ravensmuir was secured.” She stood up and braced her hands upon Malcolm’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “If he never told you this, then I will. He loved you like a son, Malcolm, and was proud of all you did. He would have been proud of you this day, I know this to be so—” she smiled “—in what crumbs remain of my heart.”
“Thank you.” Malcolm embraced his aunt, liking that she took a bracing breath and blinked back her tears. He had never seen her weep and was not certain what he would have done if she had wept now. It would have been less startling to see her nude.
“I will stay here, for just a moment, if you please,” she said then, her tone turning as crisp as a sea breeze. “See to your guests while I put some memories to rest.”
Malcolm kissed her cheeks anew, then did as she asked.
* * *
And so it was that Malcolm watched Vera and Ruari exchange their vows before Father Malachy. The sky was clear blue and the wind from the sea was brisk. He caught himself scanning the sky more than once, certain the ravens would arrive soon, but there was no sign of them.
As he scanned the company, he doubted he was the only one to note how Rafael’s gaze followed his youngest sister. He hoped Alexander would hold his tongue for one day at least. After all, Elizabeth looked daggers at his old comrade, so there would be little achieved there.
Catriona was a woman transformed when she met him before the chapel, her eyes sparkling with a happiness he never wished to see extinguished. Her cheeks were flushed and her delight so clear that it was hard to believe he had ever imagined her cold of heart. Eleanor rocked Avery as they made their vows once again, this time before so many witnesses and family.
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