The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance

by Claire Delacroix

  Fergus smiled down at her, appreciating how she cared for his father. “He might prefer that. I will ask him.” He kissed her again. “Thank you, Leila,” he murmured for her ears alone. “We make a good beginning together.”

  Fire lit in her eyes. “We shall build a future, Fergus,” she said with familiar ferocity. “One day at a time.”

  “And each night there will be another increment of a tale, if I join you abed,” he teased. She flushed a little but did not deny it. “You will see how readily I am taught to do just that, my lady,” he whispered and she could not hide her pleasure. “Ride with me this day. I will show you the land of Killairic and perhaps we will hunt a bit.”

  “I would like that well,” she said, her pleasure clear.

  “I will send word to Stephen. Tempest can take his leisure today, and we will ride palfreys. Some of the men may come with us. It will be good to check the level of the rivers, as well, after that rain and ensure that the bridges are in good repair.”

  * * *

  Hamish was surprised to find himself regarded with a kind of awe in Killairic village. The situation was so vastly different from the time before his departure that he could scarce believe it. Was it simply because he had journeyed so far?

  It was his aunt who made the reason clear to him, when he finally had the opportunity to linger at home for a day. Laird Fergus had released him from service for the day after their return from Dunnisbrae, and Hamish was glad of it.

  His uncle Rodney’s cottage was smaller and darker than he recalled, and his aunt was more plump, but the smell of her rabbit stew was achingly familiar. It made his mouth water just as it always had.

  “I suppose you have had much finer fare on your journey,” Mhairi said when she was serving the stew into bowls.

  “I have missed your cooking,” Hamish confessed. “I have often wished for such good hearty fare as this.”

  “And fine fare it is,” Rodney agreed. “There are many less fortunate than ourselves, to be sure.” As was his wont, he bowed his head and they prayed together for a moment.

  “The bread is from yesterday, I fear,” Mhairi began but her husband interrupted her.

  “You have no need to apologize, Mhairi,” he said. “Our fortunes are what they are and we offer our best. Hamish can have no complaint.” He arched a brow. “Or if he does, he can eat in Killairic’s hall.”

  “I have no complaint,” Hamish said quickly. “There were nights we had naught to eat at all, and nights that what we had was not palatable.”

  “Not palatable?” Rodney echoed with a grin. “The boy has become a diplomat, Mhairi.”

  They laughed easily together and ate in silence for a few moments. Mhairi’s eyes shone with pleasure when Hamish requested a bit more of the stew.

  “You must tell us of your adventures,” his uncle invited.

  “I do not know where to begin. Outremer is so different, and yet, so much the same.”

  “How so?”

  “It is hot and dry, dusty. The food is different, and then there are all the languages to be heard. The Temple was a refuge, for it was tranquil and orderly, and most there spoke French.”

  “And it was a sanctuary in a troubled land,” Rodney contributed.

  Hamish nodded. “True. I always was relieved when we passed through its gates, and slept well in that place. It was a fortress, to be sure.” He eyed the last of his stew as a realization struck him. “It has fallen now and is in the hands of the Saracens. That refuge is no more.” His throat was tight as he recalled their near escape and the men he had known who might not draw breath any longer.

  His uncle put a hand over his. “But you are home and safe here, lad,” he said gently.

  Hamish took a breath and nodded.

  “Praise be,” his aunt said. “I feared for your survival day and night, Hamish, and thought my heart would burst when I saw you returned.”

  “It is remarkable that only one of your party did not return,” Rodney said. “Given all the woe in that part of the world.”

  Mhairi sniffed and rose to clean the table. “I doubt any will miss Kerr overmuch,” she said, then poured ale for them all.

  “Mhairi...” her husband warned, as Hamish often recalled him doing.

  His aunt ignored the warning, which he also remembered well.

  “Can I not speak the truth in my own home?” she demanded. “That boy was not one to turn your back upon. In truth, I feared him more than the Saracens when Hamish rode out. Like all those linked to Lady Isobel, he could not be trusted.”

  Hamish said naught.

  His aunt fixed him with a look. “And if ever there was a soul less likely to come to the aid of others against a party of bandits, Kerr it was.”

  “Mhairi!”

  “Hamish does not have to reply. I know the truth in my own heart.” Mhairi raised her cup. “And so we should drink to the health of Laird Fergus, whose heart is so good that he sees only the merit in others. Bless him for his kindness in concealing whatever truth there was about Kerr. There is naught to be gained in sharing a man’s wickedness once he is dead.”

  They drank the toast in silence, which Hamish supposed was a good indication that they all agreed.

  “But a Saracen bride? Now that is not a matter that will pass unchallenged,” Mhairi said once she had drained her cup.

  “Why should any challenge it?” Hamish asked. “Surely Laird Fergus can take whoever he desires to wife?”

  “Surely he can, but the king must invest him with the seal when the old laird passes,” Rodney said.

  “Do you truly believe that when kings call for a crusade against the Saracens that they will suffer an infidel to be wedded to one of their lords?” Mhairi shook her head and filled the cups again. “I think not.”

  “But Leila is good and kind.”

  Mhairi pursed her lips. “She seemed pleasant enough on her wedding night, but I suppose any woman would be glad to wed Laird Fergus. So tiny.” She raised her brows. “So brown!”

  “She is said to be his whore, but would a man find such as she alluring?” Rodney asked.

  “Leila is no whore!” Hamish said hotly. “She was our companion and friend. I am glad that Fergus has ensured she could remain here.”

  His aunt and uncle exchanged a glance.

  “For a year and a day,” Mhairi noted gently.

  “I heard that Murdoch is aiding her in taking lessons from Father Gregory,” Hamish said. “She wishes to learn before she changes her faith.”

  “There is no harm in that,” Rodney acknowledged.

  “I would trust Leila with my life,” Hamish continued. “Indeed, I have done so.”

  Mhairi flicked a look at him. “Even though she is an infidel?”

  “At the Temple, I was taught that there is good and bad in every kind, believer or infidel, and in truth, there are many areas of common belief between our faiths...”

  “Which is why men slaughter each other in Jerusalem,” Rodney said wryly.

  “In Outremer, in many places, people of different faiths live together in harmony,” Hamish argued. “It is the knights from France and England who provoke war there. Those who live there only defend themselves and their property.”

  His uncle raised his brows.

  His aunt took a deep breath. “And so you think the Holy City should be surrendered to infidels?”

  “They also hold it as a place of worship. Lord Gaston, the leader of our party, tried to negotiate peace. He said both claims had merit and should be respected.”

  “And infidels respected this?” Rodney’s skepticism was clear.

  “I am sorry to say this, uncle, but they were more likely to respect it than Christian kings and knights.” Hamish shook his head. “I have seen things to make me doubt the merit of my own kind.”

  There was a moment of quiet in which Hamish looked at the table and his aunt and uncle studied him. He knew he was defying their convictions and was aware that he had never don
e as much before. He felt that he had erred, for he was now a guest in their home, and wished he could take back the words—even though he yet believed them. He had not intended to give offense.

  Finally, Rodney cleared his throat. “You are not the sole one to think well of the lady. Farquar said the Lady Leila has helped old Nellie. He said she shows the surety of a good ostler and her care already makes a difference.”

  Hamish looked up. “What is wrong with Nellie?”

  “She is lamed and refuses to put one foot down. We have been plowing the fields without her and it is heavy labor.” Rodney shook his head. “You know how Farquar cannot bear to see a horse suffer and can anticipate how he would argue with those who suggest Nellie’s time should come to an end. He was most impressed by Lady Leila’s efforts yesterday.”

  “She has a talent with horses, to be sure,” Hamish agreed. “That was how we knew her. She came to the Temple, disguised as a boy, to aid in their care. She was friends with Bartholomew, the squire of the knight Gaston I mentioned earlier. He served almost twenty years with the Temple, and Bartholomew was his squire all the while. It turns out that Bartholomew is the lost heir to Haynesdale, and now he is lord there.”

  “Well, well, Mhairi, our Hamish has gathered powerful friends in his time away!”

  “And how did Lady Leila come to be in your party, then?” Mhairi asked.

  “Her uncle had betrothed her to a man she distrusted and would not listen to her protests. She fled and asked for our protection. Laird Fergus took her as his squire, saying he had bought so much for Lady Isobel that he had need of another squire. We called her Laurent, and I did not know she was a lady until several weeks ago.”

  Rodney chuckled at that. “It is no good thing to be adept at disguise, lad.”

  “She defended my lord’s belongings and his welfare more than once,” Hamish said with ferocity. “I would trust Leila as well as Laird Fergus, in any situation.”

  “Well, there is an endorsement for you, Mhairi,” Rodney said. “And a potent one as well. The boy has found his voice on his journey, to be sure.”

  “An honorable nature is all well and good, and truly I am glad to hear of hers,” Mhairi said. “But there will be trouble yet over her faith, upon that you can rely.”

  His uncle nodded sagely. “Killairic is prosperous and Laird Calum is aged. We had best brace ourselves for assault.”

  Hamish disliked this forecast and knew his feelings showed, for his uncle gave him a nudge. “What is it, lad?”

  “I had thought all was different here. I had thought we rode home to peace.”

  “Perhaps that is one trait men hold in common, a desire for whatsoever belongs to another. We have seen our share of war and pillage in your absence.” Rodney was philosophical. “I am glad to hear that my lord Fergus has taken a good woman to wife, though. That is reassuring, whatever her faith.”

  “Aye, for he could have wed Lady Isobel.” Mhairi grimaced.

  “Mhairi...”

  Mhairi shook a finger at her husband. “We have not seen the last of that one, not since Laird Fergus came home, hale and handsome, with riches besides. I would wager that old Stewart MacEwan is not looking so alluring on this night.”

  Hamish guessed from what he had witnessed the day before that his aunt was right.

  “Mark my words, she will try to find a way to return to Laird Fergus’ affections. I hope this time he is wiser about the truth of her nature.”

  “What is the truth of her nature, Aunt?”

  “Mhairi...”

  Yet again, Mhairi ignored her husband’s warning. “She is one who sees to her own advantage alone. She wed Stewart because he admired her and offered her a home. In absence, Laird Fergus lost his appeal to that one. It is a measure of her nature that she could not keep a pledge and that her love was so thin that it could not sustain her while she awaited his return. And now, she will wish to leap from one to the other, for her spouse is older and perhaps harsher. Nay, we have not seen the last of her.”

  “Mhairi, you see shadows in every corner.”

  “Usually, because they are there. It will be that little maid who aids in the matter, to be sure.”

  “Which maid?” Hamish asked, though he already guessed his aunt must mean Agnes. Pretty Agnes, who smiled at him so sweetly and whose attention made his heart pound.

  “The one come from Dunnisbrae, that one with the fair face and the dark heart.”

  “Agnes,” Rodney contributed. “The orphan.”

  “Who is cut of the same cloth as Lady Isobel, to be sure. It is no wonder they could not abide in the same hall and no coincidence that she came from Dunnisbrae to Killairic, purportedly in search of labor. Nay, she came to watch for Laird Fergus and her loyalty is to Dunnisbrae if not her own self. To be sure, Laird Fergus comes by his kindness of heart honestly, for his father shares it.” Mhairi gave Hamish a hard look. “Do not be fooled by that one with her twitching skirts, lad.”

  “Of course not, Aunt,” Hamish said stoutly, though he very nearly had been so tricked. “Tell me what else is new in the village.”

  “Well,” Rodney said, his manner becoming expansive as they returned to topics of greater comfort to him. “Gavin at the mill there, he finally married young Inge. It took no small resolve on the part of both fathers, given that she was out there on the isles, but they are happy, to be sure.”

  “Two sets of twins she has born to him in four years,” Mhairi contributed. “And you never saw such handsome children.”

  “You think all children are handsome, Aunt,” Hamish teased and the older couple laughed.

  His aunt leaned toward him with sparkling eyes. “I will tell you this, Hamish. There will never be a babe more beautiful than the first one you sire.”

  Hamish found his neck heating. “I am too young to wed, Aunt.”

  “Nonsense! You have been across the width of Christendom, served with the Templars and are pledged to Laird Fergus. Your future is as secure as ever it will be.” His aunt raised a brow and Hamish nodded agreement.

  He had not considered marriage, not yet, although he had thought of intimacy with Agnes. Perhaps one day, he would find a woman of merit, just as the knights in their company had done. If naught else, he would help Leila to find allies at Killairic, for defending a lady was what a man of any measure should do.

  Hamish smiled because he had learned that from his uncle, long before he had journeyed to Outremer.

  10

  Agnes was not one to miss an opportunity.

  She knew that time was of the essence.

  Fergus’ whore was clearly determined to earn the goodwill of those at Killairic and to do so with haste. It was astonishing to Agnes that the infidel had made so much progress in only one day—by the end of their handfast, it might not be possible to be rid of her.

  Already, it was becoming impossible to avoid the sound of some fool singing the praises of Lady Leila. Laird Fergus was the worst of them all—he looked to be besotted with her since his return the night before, his gaze trailing after her every step. The old laird scarce showed less esteem. Agnes could not make sense of their acceptance of a woman with such dark skin. From the sounds that had carried from the solar the night before, Laird Fergus showed great enthusiasm for the task of fathering a son.

  Agnes knew she could see to her laird’s pleasure better than any infidel whore. A notion had occurred to her and had steadily grown in appeal. What if Agnes were to replace the whore in the young laird’s affections? What if she were to bear the son who would inherit Killairic? The old man already liked her, and she made every effort to feed his affection. When she had a moment to spare from the witch’s commands, she saw to his comfort. She knew what he liked. A sweet from the kitchens in the afternoon. A warm cup of goat milk in the evening. A little assistance on the stairs and a flirtatious comment about his vigor. Agnes knew it all.

  She also knew that the whore did not remove the lace from her neck with the keys. Th
is was vexing and gave Agnes a challenge. What had they secured in the treasury? Could she use knowledge of it to be rid of the whore? Agnes had to oust the whore soon if it was to be done and she was convinced that the item in Duncan’s saddlebag would assist in that quest.

  It could be stolen and the whore blamed.

  On the day after his return from Dunnisbrae, Laird Fergus had a second set of keys made. He might have heard Agnes’ wish and she had to hide her delight at the tidings. When he climbed the stairs to give the newly made set to his father, Agnes’ plan was made.

  Only two sets of keys, and no one would blame the old laird for the loss of any item from his own treasury.

  Agnes waited until midday meal had been served, and the whore had assisted the old laird with his stew. She waited until Laird Fergus and his whore rode out, waited until she could hear the hoofbeats no longer, then waited some more.

  She tapped on the door to the old laird’s chamber, though it was standing open. He was dozing and the keys gleamed on the lace around his neck. She was tempted but waited for the right moment.

  “Agnes!” he said, pushing himself up to a more seated position.

  “I thought your knees might be troubling you, my lord,” she said demurely. “It is oft so after the rain.”

  “And so it is on this day. It is kind of you to ask, Agnes.”

  “Let me rub some of the liniment into them, my lord. It always gives you relief.”

  “Thank you, Agnes!”

  “Would you like a cup of warm milk as well? It seems a day to linger abed, especially after such a late night.”

  “Indeed, indeed. You are thoughtful, Agnes.” He smiled at her and she bowed, hastening down the stairs to gather liniment and milk. Her palms were damp for she stood on the threshold of opportunity but she dared not give herself away.

  She wished she had a bit of valerian to put in the milk, but there was no midwife in Killairic any longer. The hut of the former one had been left untouched after her death, but Agnes could not have identified the right herb by herself. She knew better than to guess. The old midwife would not have granted it to her, either for she had distrusted Agnes.