Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Cortez laughed softly. “He has a talent for such things.”

  Keir agreed, draining the last of his cup. “Aye, he certainly does,” he said. “But enough of Andres and his foolishness. Let us continue to speak of your quest. Falkirk is at least a seven or eight day journey from here.”

  “I realize that.”

  “The Scots are not so friendly these days.”

  Cortez looked at him. “Have you had trouble?”

  Keir shook his head. “Not this far south, but I have heard rumor that there has been trouble on the border. The Ferguson and the Armstrong clans have been rather busy, I’m told. I believe Carlisle has suffered raids.” He looked seriously at Cortez. “Do you really intend to take your wife and child into Scotland?”

  Cortez struggled not to feel as if he was doing something foolish. “I have no choice,” he muttered. “I promised her. She wants to bury Edlington and I must do all I can to ensure that she is at peace.”

  Keir could see that Cortez was starting to feel defensive. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am not judging you, my friend,” he said quietly. “It is simply that the situation in Scotland is not at all calm. There could be trouble. Why not leave your wife and child at Pendragon while you continue on to Falkirk? At least they would be safe.”

  Cortez immediately shook his head. “Although I appreciate your offer, Diamantha would never agree to it,” he said. “She is tenacious. If I left her behind, she would find a way to follow me and that I could not stomach. Nay, my friend, where I go, she goes. This is more her quest than it is mine.”

  Keir understood what it was to have a tenacious wife, he had one of his own. He sighed knowingly as he poured himself more wine, glancing up to see the expressions on the faces of the knights around the table. He knew they would go to hell and back for de Bretagne. Their loyalty was without question. But he feared for them. He feared for all of them. More than that, this wasn’t a quest Cortez should have to face alone. He knew that without a doubt. He took a long drink of wine and set the cup back down onto the table with a rather forceful slam.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” he said firmly. “I was at Falkirk, too, and Rob Edlington was also my friend. It could very easily have been me with the man as he breathed his last. Only by fate was it you. Rob was a good man and he did not deserve to be left behind.”

  Cortez nodded slowly. “And I agree,” he said quietly, “which is why I am going back.”

  Keir was firm. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I mean to say that I cannot allow you to travel to Falkirk without me. I feel somewhat responsible for this as well. Every man who took part in that bloody day shares some of this responsibility. I could not live with myself, knowing you are facing danger to retrieve a fallen comrade and quite possibly undermanned with only twenty-five men and four knights. I will therefore go with you and if you deny me, know that I am much like your wife. I am tenacious, and I will follow you. I will follow you whether or not you like it, so the matter is settled. Pembury? Are you with me?”

  The big knight lifted his dark eyebrows. Michael tended to be the quieter of the pair, but when he did have cause to speak, it was usually of great meaning.

  “I cannot let you go alone,” he said in his ridiculously deep voice. “You are correct when you say that every man who fought upon those hallowed fields shares the responsibility of a fallen comrade, and since I was there, the burden too is mine. Besides, who would keep you out of trouble?”

  Keir grinned at his companion. “Then it is settled,” he said. “Tomorrow, we ride for Scotland with de Bretagne. I will hire a boy to take a message to Coverdale regarding our immediate plans and have him send word to my wife. She will not be entirely happy, but she will understand. She understands something about loyalty and friendship.”

  Cortez didn’t know what to say. He looked at Keir and Michael with some astonishment. “You are coming with me?” he repeated, somewhat awed. “Surely Coverdale cannot spare you.”

  Keir waved him off. “We have finished our business for him,” he said. “Besides, my knights are in charge of Pendragon and the garrison is safe. De Velt is in charge, and no man has ever bested a de Velt.”

  All of Cortez’s knights, and Cortez himself, looked at Keir with some shock. “De Velt?” Cortez repeated. “You have a de Velt in your service?”

  Keir could see the myriad of astonished expressions and he grinned. “I do,” he replied. “You haven’t met the man, Cortez. He’s several years younger and came up through Coverdale’s ranks. Now, I know the history of the House of de Velt in the north. Hell, everyone does, but I assure you that he is not a blood-thirsty monster as his forefathers were. Lorcan is an excellent knight and I trust him implicitly.”

  Cortez’s knights looked at him to see his reaction, but Cortez, over his initial surprise, ended up chuckling.

  “Another de Velt,” he groaned, looking over at his knights. “Be sure not to tell my father.”

  His knights were grinning but Keir wasn’t in on the joke. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What does your father have to do with the House of de Velt?”

  Ordering two more pitchers of wine, Cortez launched into the story of his father, the House of de Velt, his first meeting with Diamantha, and other things. It ended up being a very long night that saw Cortez and his men going to sleep just a few hours before dawn. But it didn’t matter. It had been one of the best nights he’d spent in a very long time, reliving old times and discussing the future with men he shared an unbreakable bond with. He considered himself an extremely fortunate man.

  At one point in the evening, as he listened to Drake launch into one of his many humorous tales, he briefly reflected on the life he lost three years ago. When Helene had died and the baby with her, he was sure he was dead, too. Even when he went to Corfe those few weeks ago to marry Diamantha, he still wasn’t sure if their union would bring any of the joy back into his life. But he was coming to realize that this quest had bonded them together as nothing else ever could have. It wasn’t so much that they were joined by the mutual quest for Robert. It was the fact that they had shared so much together along the journey, perhaps more than most married couples ever do, and in that adventure Diamantha’s character, heart, and soul was revealed. Perhaps his was, too.

  As he watched the men around the table, men he loved like brothers, he realized how deeply content and utterly happy he was for the first time in his life. It was more than he had ever shared with Helene. It was as if he had reached for the stars and had finally managed to grasp one. Helene had been like a warm autumn breeze, gentle and comforting. Diamantha was like the scorching summer sun, searing him until he was blinded by her. He couldn’t describe in words how he felt about the woman.

  All he knew was that he loved her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Carlisle, Lockerbie, Moffatt.

  Scottish towns didn’t look much different from English towns, or so Diamantha thought. Scotland’s topography wasn’t too much different from England’s except there seemed to be a lot of mountains and a lot of lakes, or lochs as the Scottish called them. They had stopped in the Scottish towns at night to eat and sleep, and for the most part they had been met with hospitable people. Not that Diamantha had expected otherwise, but Cortez hadn’t been so sure.

  All of the knights had been on alert since the moment the party had passed over the border. Diamantha and Sophie had been forced to ride in the wagon, even in the excellent mild weather they had been experiencing, which had made Sophie somewhat restless, even with her pets to keep her busy. Diamantha, meanwhile, had passed the time sewing on the little tunics they had purchased for Sophie in Penrith. She was an excellent seamstress and the garments were turning out beautifully. Distracted with her sewing and also with her restless daughter, she could still feel the edginess of the knights as they traveled deeper and deeper into Scots territory.

  The two new knights they had picked up in Penrith, St. Héver and Pembury, had brou
ght a good deal of power to reinforce Cortez’s ranks. When Cortez had explained their reasoning for joining the quest, Diamantha had been very touched. It would seem that Robert had many men who were fond of him and their loyalty to her dead husband pleased her immensely. Now, it seemed to be more than just a widow trying to find her husband’s remains. It was a host of his friends that would join her. Diamantha was coming to learn a good deal about loyalty from these knights who had fought and died together. The great questing was taking on more dimensions, now with added friends who would see Robert returned for a proper burial, too.

  So the days passed too slowly and the nights too quickly. The days were full of quiet travel because Cortez was fearful of noise, fearful it would draw a horde of Scots to their doorstep. Nothing was worse in Scotland than hearing a Sassenach accent on Scots soil. Therefore, the men traveled silently and heavily armed, making their way along the dirt roads in brittle silence. The last time most of them had been in Scotland, it had been to fight a great and terrible battle. It was therefore reasonable to expect that they would be conditioned to be in battle mode every time they walked upon Scots earth. Diamantha could see it in everything about them. They were an enemy in enemy lands.

  On their third day into Scotland, they stopped for the night in a small town called Moffatt. It was a charming town nestled in the rolling lowland hills, with a rather large town square that was surrounded by homes and businesses.

  As the group moved into the town close to sunset, the merchants were beginning to close their shops for the night but Diamantha needed more thread for her sewing, so Cortez and Keir found a merchant with all manner of fabric and threads, and convinced the man to stay open long enough for Diamantha to do some shopping. She did, with Sophie on her hip as she perused the dry goods.

  As dark clouds began to roll in overhead and a chill wind picked up, Cortez and Keir stood watch over Diamantha while the rest of the knights took the horses over to the enormous trough in the town square to allow the animals to drink. Cortez’s men fanned out around the square, exhausted from a day’s journey and taking a few moments to rest as Lady de Bretagne shopped for thread.

  But it was more than thread she found, she also found gorgeous bolts of Ferguson tartan, with blues and greens and reds, and she very much wanted some. They were in Ferguson country, after all, so the merchant carried a good deal of the fabric which was made locally by old Ferguson widows from Ferguson sheep. The merchant was thrilled to sell her a hefty measure of the tartan, which was very warm, and Diamantha happily bought it, along with several spools of red, blue, and white thread. She also added to her sewing case by purchasing a new thimble, needles made of iron, and a pair of new shears also made from iron.

  As she bartered for the price, Sophie grew restless and she put the little girl down, calling to Cortez to watch out for the child as the she wandered in his direction. Cortez and Keir turned to watch the little girl, who strolled out of the merchant’s stall and promptly squatted down to pick some small yellow flowers that were growing at the base of a spindly tree nearby. Keir’s gaze lingered on the lass, bundled up against the cold weather.

  “My son celebrated his first year of life back in July,” he said, almost wistfully. “In fact, he celebrated it when I was fighting at Falkirk. He is very curious about everything, much like your little Sophie is, except he is curious about any manner of bug that crosses his path. He frightens his mother with them constantly.”

  Cortez grinned as he watched Sophie yank up the weeds. “With Sophie, it is animals,” he said. “You have seen her collection, of course.”

  Keir nodded. “You have quite a menagerie of fat and happy animals,” he said. “Children should have pets. I think it teaches them about the value of life. My son already has a pony.”

  Cortez glanced at him. “Does he ride it?”

  Keir nodded firmly. “Indeed he does,” he insisted. “And he does not fall off. The same cannot be said for many children his age.”

  Cortez laughed at Keir’s proud boasting. He was about to say something when Diamantha caught his attention. She was evidently finished shopping and needed him to pay the bill. He excused himself, leaving Keir to watch over Sophie. As Cortez and Diamantha paid for the booty, the big knight with the white-blond hair made his way over to the little girl as she fussed with her posies.

  “Those are very nice flowers,” he commented.

  Sophie looked up at him and Keir noticed what Cortez had noticed also. She was the image of her father with her big blue eyes and dark blond hair.

  “I am going to feed them to my rabbit,” she said.

  Keir pretended to be very interested. “Is that so?” he said. “Does your rabbit have a name?”

  Sophie nodded. “His name is Clover,” she said. Then, she reached up and took his hand. “I have a pony. Would you like to see him?”

  Before Keir could answer, he found himself being dragged across the road to the cluster of de Bretagne men and their wagons. Sophie pulled him between the wagons, coming to a very fat black and white pony who was chewing happily on the thick grass that was sprouting up in spots around the square. She went right to pony’s head and shoved the flowers into its mouth, which it hungrily crunched on.

  Keir stood over the pair, watching with a smile on his face. He found that he missed his son, remembering the boy and his little blond pony. He missed his wife, too. As he stood over the nuzzling pair, hands on his hips, he heard a shout from behind.

  Looking up, he saw Cortez and Diamantha heading in his direction. Cortez was carrying his wife’s load of loot, putting it into the wagon bed as he eyed Keir.

  “So she lured you into seeing her pony, too, did she?” he asked, brushing off his hands after depositing the load. “That is her usual path. I hadn’t known her five minutes before she was dragging me off to the stables to see General.”

  Keir grinned, watching the little girl pet the pony’s velvety nose and laughing when he nibbled at her. “He is a handsome beast,” he said.

  Cortez nodded, watching Sophie and the pony for a moment longer before stroking his chin and looking about the town. His manner was thoughtful.

  “Speaking of handsome beasts, I plan to get myself into a bath tonight before my wife refuses to come near me because I smell too badly,” he said. “The fabric merchant said that there is a traveler’s inn on the opposite side of the square called The White Star. There should be a board with a star painted on it somewhere but I do not seem to see it.”

  Keir was looking around, too, spying the structure across the square. “There it is,” he said, pointing. “Is that our destination tonight?”

  Cortez squinted at the building in the distance. Like his brother, his eyesight at a distance wasn’t too keen. “For the knights it is,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. Make sure the men bed down somewhere in close range. They may camp if they wish but not too far away. I want to be moving out by sunrise. Will you please see to it?”

  Keir nodded, moving away from Cortez to carry out the man’s orders as Cortez pried Sophie away from her pony. The dark clouds overhead were growing darker and the wind was picking up. Random drops of rain began falling as a storm began to settle. Cortez took Sophie and Diamantha carrying the animal cage, with Merlin trailing along behind them carrying all of their bags, and crossed the square to The White Star inn on the other side.

  The structure stood by itself, not crowded by other buildings, and was a very long, very slender three-storied establishment. The construction was waddle and daub, with exposed external beams for additional support, and they passed into the entrance, right beneath a massive board upon which a white star was painted.

  Inside, there was a long, slender room, nearly the length of the building, and back in the rear of the room, he could see a kitchen complete with a giant, smoking hearth. Cooking smells wafted in the room, the scent of roasting meat and heavy smoke. It also smelled like dogs and nearly as soon as they entered, a pack of mutts came rushing
out at them. Sophie screamed when one growled and nearly launched herself into Cortez’s arms. He kicked the growling dog in the throat, and the dog yelped as it turned tail and scampered off.

  “Dunna kick me dogs, mon,” the innkeeper said as he emerged from the kitchen. He was a fat man with a crown of wild red hair and a long pipe hanging from his lips. “They willna hurt ye.”

  Cortez cocked a dark eyebrow. “That dog growled at my daughter and frightened her,” he said evenly. “If it does it again, I will kill it and reimburse you the cost for a new one that will be friendlier towards children.”

  The innkeeper stared at him a moment before breaking into a grin, revealing crooked and green teeth. “Where are ye from, sassenach?”

  Cortez couldn’t tell if the man was trying to be friendly or trying to figure out just how much of an enemy he was. Upon hearing Cortez’s speech pattern, it was clear that he was instantly suspicious.

  “We have come to visit kin,” Cortez didn’t answer him directly. He lied, in fact. “We require at least four rooms, more if you can spare them.”

  The innkeeper puffed on his pipe. The smoke that emerged smelled strongly of animal dung. As he puffed away, deciding whether or not he wanted to rent a room to the Sassenach knight and his family, his round wife came waddling in from the kitchen, took one look at Sophie, and crowed with delight.

  “Oooch!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “What have we here? A bonny lass with the face of an angel!”

  Sophie looked at the woman with the loud voice and turned her head away, laying it on Cortez’s shoulder. From the growling dog to the loud woman, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with these unfamiliar surroundings so she buried her face in Cortez’s shoulder. The old woman, however, was not deterred. She went up to Cortez and patted Sophie gently on the back.

  “Do ye know what it is I have fer ye, lass?” she said, trying to get the girl to look at her. “I have a sweet treat fer ye with honey and apricots and fermented milk. Would ye like some?”