Border Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Cortez quit the chamber, but not without a lingering glance at his wife, lying still and pale upon the bed. He went about his business hurriedly, working the innkeeper and his staff into a frenzy in his quest to make his wife comfortable. Soon enough, wine and bath water and food appeared in their chamber. Once Sophie was bathed and fed and put to bed, Cortez did the same with his wife.

  But the sadness of the news of Diamantha’s father’s death lingered. It wasn’t something she would be soon or easily resigned to, the pain of a daughter in losing the man she had adored her entire life. That night, Michael de Bocage filled his daughter’s thoughts as her exhausted sleep brought dreams of home.

  *

  The old innkeeper thought he was doing a good turn. He was a patriot, after all, and Sassenach in his place of business sullied the very walls of an establishment that lived and breathed Scottish freedom. His wife had invited the bloody English to stay but, alas, he had not. He intended to do something about it.

  When the English knights had retired and most of the foot soldiers were camping about a quarter of a mile north of the town, the innkeeper had sent one of his servants to the Widow Graham’s home, which was a half mile to the west. Widow Graham had a daughter who was set to marry one of the local chieftain’s sons, and it was this daughter who ran from her mother’s house in the dead of night to her lover’s abode, whereupon she informed him of the Sassenach knights staying in town.

  The lover, infuriated with the English invasion into his town, sent word to some of his friends and in the wee hours before dawn, right before men would rise and begin to prepare for the day, twelve Scots warriors moved in on The White Star with murder on their minds. Sassenach men were going to die that night. They would make sure of it.

  The innkeeper let them into the structure, unfastening the big iron lock on the back door and allowing the men to creep in. He had been watching the stairs at the front of the house, watching for any signs that the six English knights were up and about, but so far everything had been dark and still. He gave the Scotsmen directions to the rooms bearing Sassenach guests. Then, he slipped into his own chamber and locked the door. He didn’t want to see what happened next. His duty was done.

  Unfortunately for the innkeeper, he missed seeing Peter Merlin as the man approached the inn with the intent of waking Cortez to see what the man’s orders for the day were. Merlin saw the Scotsmen moving around in the dark and he spied swords and clubs in their hands. Being that he was without a weapon, or any means of alerting Cortez’s army, he did the only thing he could do: he spurred his horse forward and charged through the bolted front door of the inn, creating such bedlam that on the floor above, Cortez and the other knights were instantly awake. That few moments of preparation saved their lives.

  The Scotsmen, realizing their cover had been blown, charged up the stairs and were met by English knights pouring out of the doors. The English met the Scots as most of them were still on the stairs and Drake, perhaps the most aggressive knight of the group, launched himself at the Scotsmen on the stairs, landing on top of at least four of them, and sending all four rolling back down the stairs and crashing at the bottom.

  Seeing that Drake had landed at the bottom of the steps in a heap with a cluster of Scotsmen, James ran down after him. James had the legendary de Lohr skill and, much like his great-uncle David de Lohr, he was faster with a broadsword than any man alive. He managed to kill two of the Scotsmen before the others were able to engage him, and the battle spilled out into the common room of the inn. Now, it was Drake and James against three very angry Scotsmen. Merlin, once he’d taken his horse back outside and tethered the animal, rushed back into the room and began swinging a broken chair leg around. The room, already, was in shambles and blood was on the floor.

  Upstairs, it was more of a battle. There were seven Scotsmen against Cortez, Keir, Michael, and Oliver, and to make matters worse, it was so dark that it was difficult for anyone to see who they were fighting. Cortez had managed to make it out of his chamber, bellowing at Diamantha to lock the door as he ran. She did, throwing the old iron bolt and listening to the sounds of battle in the corridor outside. Terrified, she had grabbed her sleeping daughter and slithered under the bed, hoping it would provide some protection should the door be breached. In her arms, Sophie hardly woke up.

  Out in the corridor, however, the situation was bad indeed. Cortez was only in his breeches, with his massive broadsword sailing through the darkness. None of the English had been given time to don their armor much less clothing, and Keir was actually fighting in the nude. It was so dark that no one really noticed, but the fact that they were fighting against deadly weapons without protection made the situation extremely dicey.

  Cortez was able to take care of one of the Scots by tossing the man over the railing and sending him crashing down the stairs to the floor below. After that, he went to help Oliver dispatch two men who were intent on doing the young knight serious harm. Two strokes from his broadsword, a punch, and massive kick to the torso sent another Scot over the railing and down the stairs while Oliver eventually dispatched his opponent by driving his sword into the man’s ribcage. As the Scot collapsed on the floor, Keir and Michael managed to dispatch the remaining four.

  “Drake?” Cortez bellowed down the stairwell. “All clear!”

  Drake’s head suddenly appeared at the bottom of the steps. “All clear down here,” he told him. “I do not see any more Scots, at least not yet.”

  Cortez looked at the knights around him. They were winded but whole. “We must leave immediately,” he told them. “There could be an entire bloody army coming for us and this was just the advance party. Get dressed and let us go now.”

  The knights scattered, rushing to get dressed and collect their belongings, as Cortez went to his chamber door and pounded on it.

  “Diamantha?” he called. “Open the door, sweetheart. Let me in.”

  It took several moments before the bolt was disengaged and the door swung open. Diamantha was standing there in her sleeping shift with Sophie slumbering on her shoulder. She looked terrified.

  “What happened?” she demanded. “Were we attacked?”

  Cortez blew into the room, hunting around until he found a flint. He sparked it, lighting the nearest taper, and a soft white glow filled the room.

  “Aye,” he told her, hurried. “We must get dressed and leave immediately. There could be more of them to come.”

  With a gasp of fright, Diamantha carefully lay Sophie back onto her bed and began flying around the room, gathering things and either shoving them into her satchel or throwing them into the big barrel that held all of her new clothing. As Cortez quickly donned his clothing and his mail coat, Diamantha pulled her blue traveling gown over her sleeping shift and tossed the exquisite leather robe with the fur-lined sleeves on over that. Quickly, she ran a comb through her hair and braided it, if only to keep it out of the way, while she picked up the cage with the animals in it and set it on the bed next to Sophie. She watched, breathless, as Cortez strapped on his broadsword.

  “We are ready,” she informed him, her voice quivering with fright.

  Cortez nodded shortly and went out into the corridor, yelling down the stairwell. “Who is down there?”

  Merlin appeared at the bottom. “I am, my lord.”

  “Where are the rest of my men?”

  “Still in camp, my lord.”

  Cortez motioned the man up the stairs. “Come and help us vacate.”

  Merlin rushed up the stairs, gathering the baggage as Diamantha collected her child with one arm and picked up the animal cage with the other. Keir and Michael were vacating their rooms at the same time, fully dressed now, and helped get Diamantha’s bags and barrel down the stairs. Once on the first floor where several Scotsmen were bleeding out on the dirt floor, Cortez didn’t even bother to summon the innkeeper or his wife to let them know they were departing. He had a feeling that they already knew.

  As they bega
n to head out of town in the cold, dark morning, heading for the area where Cortez’s men were camped, they could hear the town around them beginning to stir and they were increasingly anxious to leave. Cortez’s encampment was already nearly packed and ready to depart, and Cortez’s knights worked the men into a frenzy. They were terrified that more Scots were to come, especially since they had killed or badly injured the twelve that had come in an advanced party, so soon enough, they were all fleeing up the road, bouncing along in the early morning hours.

  For Diamantha, tucked into the wagon with her daughter clutched in her arms, it was a frightening experience. The more distance they put between them and Moffatt, the better they were coming to feel, but Cortez knew the worst was not yet over. They could be in for quite a bit of trouble if the kin of those who attacked them decided to follow. Therefore, he had Keir and Michael covering their retreat, hanging back to make sure they were not followed. As the morning progressed, it seemed less and less likely, and eventually, they slowed their pace so the men could catch their breath.

  But Cortez couldn’t breathe easy, not yet. They were in Scotland, after all. For all he knew, this was only the beginning of worse hardships yet to come.

  He prayed he was wrong.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kirkmuirhill, Hamilton, Cumbernauld… Falkirk.

  Fortunately, whatever happened in Moffatt seemed to be isolated because they had been traveling for four days and no one had followed them. But the rain that had started when they were in Moffatt had indeed followed them, and the four days of travel to the outskirts of Falkirk had been wrought with some of the worst weather any of them had ever seen. It had been positively hellish.

  The wind had been vicious, blowing from every direction, consequently, most everything was soaked, even in the wagon bed where Diamantha and Sophie huddled together with the animals and tried to stay dry. Cortez had fortunately been able to find shelter every night so they could at least sleep beneath a roof and with bedding that wasn’t soaked, but the days of never-ending rain, mud-slicked roads, and misery weighed heavily upon them. It made for wretched travel.

  On the fifth day since departing Moffatt, the party finally arrived on the outskirts of Falkirk. There was a small settlement to the northwest of the battlefield, a three-street town with many crudely constructed homes and a stretch of road that contained several businesses including a one-storied tavern. It was raining buckets when they finally arrived in the sodden village and Cortez made no secret about the fact that he intended to take over the tavern to house his men. In fact, the entire column came to a halt in front of the tavern and Cortez sent his knights in to roust whoever was inside, clearing the way for him and his men. He didn’t care if it were bad manners, either. He was tired of being wet.

  Fortunately for all concerned, there was hardly anyone in the tavern and Cortez allowed those few patrons to remain, as all of his men poured into the structure to get out of the elements. Cortez carried Sophie inside while Drake helped Diamantha. The tavern’s common room was rather small, but it was warm and dry, and twenty-five men, six knights, a little girl and her mother quickly filled it up while the stable boys in charge of the mounts of tavern visitors took the horses away to be sheltered in the livery across the street. The wagons went with them.

  The tavern keeper was a short, bald man who was surprisingly handsome and clean-appearing. He had been in the rear of the tavern, making an inventory of the ale barrels, when Cortez and his men had taken over the place. He came out into the room of drenched, weary men, and was directed towards Cortez by one of the soldiers. The man approached Cortez, seated with Diamantha and Sophie, and introduced himself.

  “Me name is MacInnis, m’laird,” he said. “Am I to assume ye want me tae feed the lot of ye?”

  Cortez was cold and wet. He looked at the man. “An excellent assumption,” he said digging into the purse in his tunic and pulling out six gold crowns. He slapped them on the table. “This should pay for the meal.”

  MacInnis scooped the coinage off the table quickly, eager to be of service with a good price paid. Unlike the innkeeper in Moffatt, MacInnis didn’t care if these men were English. As long as they were paying a handsome price, he didn’t care who they were or why they were there. He had been present during the battle of Falkirk those months ago and he found that the English were much more respectful than the Scots had been during those difficult days. The Scots had stolen from him while the English, although they had absconded with items, too, had at least paid for what they had confiscated. Therefore, he held no issue with the Sassenach crowd.

  “Indeed, m’laird,” he said. “I have a good mutton stew and enough bread fer all.”

  Cortez nodded wearily, waving the man on. “Bring it to everyone,” he said. “Fill them full of it. And all the ale they can drink.”

  The tavern keeper nodded. “Aye, m’laird.”

  “And my wife and I require a room if you have one available.”

  MacInnis nodded his head eagerly. “I have two rooms,” he told him. “They’re both small, but they’re clean.”

  “I will take them both.”

  The tavern keeper fled into the rear of the tavern and Cortez could hear the man shouting instructions to his staff. Soon enough, two women and a boy were scrambling, and pitchers and cups soon began to appear on the tables. The boy went to stoke the hearth, producing a rather bold blaze that launched live embers into the room and onto some of the soldiers. They were so wet and cold that they hardly cared.

  At the sight of the big blaze, Diamantha began pulling off Sophie’s little cloak, drenched, as well as her own.

  “I am going to hang these by the fire to dry them off,” she said as she stood up from her seat. “You should probably have your men do the same. They will all catch their death as wet as they are.”

  Cortez nodded wearily, watching her walk over to the blazing hearth and hang her cloak on a peg next to it. She did the same with Sophie’s. Sophie, meanwhile, was sticking her fingers in the animal cage, which was resting upon the table and covered in a big oiled cloth to keep the creatures dry. The kittens, the puppy, the rabbit, and the fox were perhaps the driest travelers out of the entire group.

  As Cortez watched his wife, warming her hands by the fire, his knights, most of whom had been either scattered around the room or out in the back where the privy was, headed to his table and began to sit down around him. A pitcher of ale and several cups appeared on their table and Cortez asked for watered-down ale or milk for the child from the wench who brought the pitcher. As the woman scurried away, Cortez turned to his men.

  “Great Bleeding Jesus,” he exclaimed gruffly. “Get out of those wet clothes before you rust. At least go try to dry off near the fire.”

  Keir and Michael were already reaching for the ale. “ ’Tis too late,” Keir said. “My armor is already rusted shut. Your squire is going to have his hands full tonight cleaning all of our armor.”

  Cortez glanced over at the table where young Peter Summerlin was. The lad had been a mounted soldier on this journey and a sometimes-squire, a silent operator who kept himself out of trouble. Along with Merlin and the knights, the lad was never out of the sight of Cortez. He was a fixture. Cortez accepted a full cup from Keir, snorting softly before he drank.

  “No doubt,” he said. “But he’s young and strong. It will be a simple task for him.”

  Drake pulled off his helm, setting on the bench next to Sophie, who found great interest in it.

  “I will clean my own,” he announced, watching the little girl play with the visor. “I do not want my armor away from me for too long, given what happened in Moffatt. That was a lesson learned.”

  Keir looked over at him, cup at his lips. “What lesson is that?” he asked. “To sleep in full armor? That could have been the only possible lesson learned.”

  Drake scratched his face casually. “You of all people should have learned the lesson,” he joked. “A man fighting nude could get so
mething quite valuable hacked off if he is not careful. Then your wife would have to find a new husband. It would be of little pleasure to her to be married to a eunuch.”

  Michael and James began to laugh while Keir simply made a face. “Any man that seeks to hack my manroot from my body had better get the biggest sword he can find,” he said. “It will take a sword the size of a tree to cut my manhood off.”

  “That’s not what I saw,” Michael teased.

  Now the entire table was laughing at Keir’s expense, who was halted from delivering a stinging retribution on Michael by the simple fact that there was a child sitting across the table from him. But he was going to give it his best try, anyway, when Diamantha suddenly appeared and sat down next to her daughter.

  “What is so funny?” she asked innocently.

  The knights looked at each other knowingly as Cortez shook his head. “It would not interest you,” he told her, quick to change the subject. “Why not take the cage over to the fire and warm the animals? They are probably quite cold.”

  Successfully diverted, Diamantha peered in at the little animals in the wooden cage. “They are huddled together so I am sure they are warm for now,” she said, accepting the cup of ale that Cortez handed her. “Moreover, I simply want to sit on something that is not moving for a few moments. I know it is far more difficult for you men to travel and my complaints seem foolish, but my backside is sore from being bumped around in that wagon. It feels good to sit on something still.”

  Cortez reached out and collected her hand, holding it on the tabletop. “We are finally at our destination,” he said, “so there will not be much travel in the foreseeable future, I hope.”

  Diamantha squeezed his big hand. “How close are we to the location of the battle?”

  Cortez’s gaze was warm on her but in the back of his mind he was trying to gauge her mood. Finally, they were at Falkirk, the site of the great battle where her husband had lost his life. Knowing how grief-stricken she had been with Robert’s death, he wondered if finally being at the location where the man met his end would bring about fits of sorrow again. So far, her demeanor didn’t seem to be affected and he was grateful. He had hoped that these weeks of travel, and the weeks of bonding between them, had helped her heal somewhat. That was his hope, anyway. He prayed it held true.