“I was thinking Inverfyre was much the same,” he admitted.
“Truly?” Ahearn grinned. “Though I become a greybeard, and the children have grown so tall?”
“The Hawk’s children? Or have your own?”
“They have all grown like weeds in the sun.” Ahearn granted Quentin a quick look. “And you? Do you miss it?”
There was no harm in admitting the truth. “Who would not miss a holding so justly governed and prosperous?” Quentin asked. “Inverfyre was the finest place I ever served.” He glanced around. “It is good to find it so much the same.”
Ahearn nodded. “And what will you do now?”
“I am uncertain,” Quentin said, for it was true. He did not know if his aid would be welcome as yet. Reinhard’s expression indicated otherwise and he had the thought that the Hawk had been strategic in more than the seating.
Reinhard evidently was the skeptical one, while Ahearn the apparent friend. No doubt between the two men, the Hawk hoped to discern the truth of Quentin’s intentions in returning to Inverfyre.
The stew was beguiling, so rich and thick with meat, so savory that Quentin nigh wept with the pleasure of eating it. He had survived upon stale bread and foraged berries for too long. “I dared not think beyond arriving here,” he confessed to Ahearn.
“And keeping your pledge to Mhairi,” Ahearn said. “That was a fine impulse, to be sure.” He inhaled the scent of the egg dish offered to them, his appreciation clear.
“And where are the others so loyal to the Hawk?” Quentin asked. “Is Fernando no longer in your ranks?”
Ahearn granted him an assessing glance. “Of course.”
“Yet he is not at the board.”
“Someone must watch the gates,” Ahearn said with care. “Someone trusted by the Hawk.” He raised his brows. “If naught else, you owe the MacLaren clan your thanks this day.”
“How so?”
“Their attack and your intervention have together ensured that you are guest instead of villain returned. How did you know their intent?”
Quentin heard the implication in the other man’s tone, as if he might have convinced the MacLaren clan to attack on this very morning for his own purposes. Perhaps Ahearn shared Reinhard’s doubts.
“I may not be considered the villain returned, though it is clear my motives are yet suspect,” he noted.
Ahearn shook a finger at him, pretending to tease but Quentin saw that he made no jest. “It was you who taught me to distrust coincidence.”
“And there is only my word that it was not,” Quentin acknowledged. “That doubt is fair.” He became aware that Evangeline was listening avidly to their conversation. “What little I know will be confided at the Hawk’s invitation alone.”
Ahearn nodded approval of that. “Well, I must ensure that you know all the doings of this place!” he said heartily. “You will want to know who has had children and who has left this world. Let me fatigue you with all the tidings of the village.”
Quentin nodded agreement, well aware that the other man had turned the discussion to matters other than the defense of Inverfyre.
He was not trusted, though he was within the hall.
Evangeline sighed and rolled her eyes. “I would prefer to hear all of the world beyond Inverfyre’s borders.”
“I have little good to tell of it,” Quentin said, but she still looked discontent.
“At least Gawain and Avery were allowed to go to Ravensmuir,” she said. “I scarce leave the walls of Inverfyre!”
“Because you do not care to hunt, my lady,” Ahearn reminded her gently.
She rolled her eyes. “It matters little now. No one will hunt until Papa decides the forest is safe.”
It was true enough.
Ahearn leaned close. “Reinhard there has another young babe,” he said with a smile. “And a surprise she was to both himself and Margery.”
Reinhard and Margery had four sons, who had been born in rapid succession after their nuptials. Even when Quentin had left, the youngest had been ten summers of age. “So long after their boys? That would be a surprise.”
Ahearn chuckled. “I told him that I thought he should know by this point what causes his wife’s belly to round.” Quentin smiled, for Ahearn had always been quick to tease his fellows. “And she is a pretty lass. You will see how her father dotes upon her.”
As Ahearn satisfied Quentin’s curiosity, Evangeline sighed and turned to her mother for conversation.
Mhairi, Quentin noticed, was yet watching him. She was not for him. He could not be for her. But fool that he was, her attention warmed his heart.
He did not doubt that the Hawk had noted her interest as well.
The seating arrangement at the high table was not a coincidence.
Mhairi knew her father well enough to understand that Quentin had been placed as far away from her as possible, in order to ensure that she had no chance to talk to him.
Usually, Ahearn or Fernando sat between her and Reinhard, because her father kept all the unwed men in the keep away from Evangeline. That he had changed his scheme told her that her father had discerned her affection for Quentin.
And deliberately thwarted it.
Annoyance rose hot within her, followed quickly by rebellion. She must find a way to speak to Quentin again, even if her father meant to keep them apart.
“You were always one to hope for the impossible,” Nigel said under his breath and she knew her reaction showed.
“There is nothing wrong with having aspirations,” Mhairi replied. She and her oldest brother seldom agreed, so it did not surprise her to be chastised by him.
“But you are the daughter of Inverfyre,” Nigel continued quietly. “You have a responsibility to wed well. Surely you understand that your marriage should bring a benefit to the holding?” He spared a glance at Quentin, his meaning so clear that Mhairi bristled.
“Just because a man has been injured does not make him worthless.”
Nigel raised his brows and said nothing.
“Your fate does not have to be mine,” Mhairi argued. “I am third. You and Evangeline can manage the strategic alliances and I will wed for love.”
Nigel laughed outright. “No one of sense weds for love, Mhairi! I thought you more clever than that!”
“Our parents love each other.”
“Yet their match began with an abduction. Love came later, as is right and good.”
“And if it had not?”
“They would still be wedded, and undoubtedly, still be happy together. It is Inverfyre that is of greatest import and they have built a strong legacy together. They would both have satisfaction in that achievement, even if they were not smitten with each other.”
Mhairi wished she could remain silent but she could not. Nigel was simply too convinced of his own perspective. “I would argue that Papa recognized his true love on sight, and that was why he stole Maman.”
Nigel chuckled. “Not just love but love at a glimpse? Who knew such fanciful notions filled your thoughts? I would never have thought it of you.”
“It is not whimsy!”
“So, you yearn for Quentin because you imagine your affection for him is destined to be?” Nigel shook his head, not waiting for her reply. “Believe what you must, sister mine.” He slanted a teasing glance her way. “I supposed I should be reassured that you possess some feminine whimsy. Otherwise it might seem I had another brother.”
“There are days when I wish you did,” Mhairi said under her breath.
“Why?”
“Because you can do as you wish.”
Nigel laughed again. “Where do you think I learned this notion of responsibility? What I wish is for Inverfyre to prosper, which means that my desires must be for the good of the holding, not fleeting urges. I learned young that my own desires were nothing if they did not ally with the needs of Inverfyre.” Nigel urged a choice piece of venison toward her. “Be glad that you were not born first, Mhairi. A
nd savor the meat, for there may be less of it in the near future.”
Mhairi saw then how much her brother resembled their father, for his expression was uncommonly stern and his words revealed that he, too, had concluded that no one would ride to hunt soon.
“I would hunt.”
“You know it will not be permitted.”
“Then what is to be done?”
Nigel gave her a steady look. “I have no doubt the threat will be removed, and then you can ride to hunt again.”
Nigel and their father would see the MacLarens routed, it was clear. “Perhaps Quentin will provide tidings of aid in that. Perhaps you will then see his merit.”
“Perhaps the challenge will be to judge his trustworthiness,” Nigel said beneath his breath then gestured for Mhairi to leave the matter be. A squire approached with another platter, one that smelled of apples, and she bit her tongue with frustration.
She would defend Quentin, even if she was the sole one to do as much.
Could she help with Inverfyre’s retaliation against the MacLarens?
Her father would protest against it, but perhaps Quentin would argue her merit. He had always believed in her skills. Her heart glowed in recollection of his praise earlier this day and she flushed a little in memory of that kiss. She resisted the urge to finger the hilt of the knife he had given to her. She watched him covertly, noting that although his body had been damaged, his nature was as constant as ever.
He spoke little.
He listened intently.
He glanced frequently over the hall, and she did not doubt that he could give an inventory of who was present and who had spoken to whom.
He kept his own counsel and she suspected it was as good as ever.
When he smiled at a comment Ahearn made, she caught a glimpse of his former self. Her heart clenched tightly at the damage he had endured.
Then he looked down the table, his gaze colliding suddenly with her own. He must have discerned something in her expression, for he scowled, shook his head minutely and turned back to Ahearn.
Mhairi felt as if she had been chided.
But she would not allow him to dismiss her as readily as that.
Chapter Three
After the meal, the Hawk beckoned to Quentin, no doubt so they would speak in more private quarters. Already the knights and men-at-arms in the Hawk’s service turned to their games of chance, while those from the village who had come to the hall for the meal rose to return home. Quentin felt Ahearn’s presence behind him and noted that he had been positioned between the two men, where he could be more readily observed.
The sign of distrust was not unexpected, but it hampered any notion he had to be of aid to the Hawk and Inverfyre. He could tell them any detail and might not be believed. Who was the MacLaren spy within the walls? Would the Hawk even believe there was one?
He recalled his own lessons about using opposition instead of battling against it, and considered other possibilities. If he fed the doubts of the Hawk’s trusted advisors and was cast out of Inverfyre, he could perhaps pretend to ally himself with the MacLarens and spy upon their plans. He might then be in the best position to foil them.
Still, Quentin would prefer to confide in the Hawk, to be trusted and remain within the walls to battle for justice.
The Hawk looked back and Quentin saw both Nigel and Reinhard rise to their feet. Mhairi looked as if she were itching to do the same, but Quentin averted his gaze from hers again and saw Lady Aileen speak to her daughter. Mhairi remained at the board, displeasure in her expression. Evangeline conferred with her maid about some frippery or other while Lady Aileen smiled upon those remaining in the hall. Her eyes were bright and he knew she would not miss any detail.
’Twas a fine thing that the Hawk’s wife watched his back and Quentin had always admired their marriage. There had been a time when he had aspired to claiming a wife of similar valor and sense, though he knew the chance of his wedding now was so low as to be non-existent. He had no means of seeing a family fed, to be sure.
The men entered the small room where the Hawk kept his accounts, the castellan, Henry, securing the door behind them—and doubtless standing guard.
There was only a single lantern burning on the table in the middle of the chamber, placed there by Henry in anticipation of their arrival. The Hawk sat in his great chair and Nigel leaned against the opposite wall, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes were narrowed and he was watchful. Quentin liked that the boy was observant and slow to reveal his thoughts. He would make a good laird, like his father.
Reinhard crouched, as was his way, head bowed as he listened. He seldom missed a detail, which Quentin admired, too. Ahearn braced his hands upon his hips and stood beside Quentin, his position feeding Quentin’s notion that he was being guarded.
Indeed, he could fairly taste the distrust of the Hawk’s men. It surrounded Quentin like wood smoke—pervasive and impossible to ignore. They would not be readily convinced of his innocence.
Still, he would try before he changed plans.
The Hawk himself was as inscrutable as ever, but Reinhard wore his suspicion boldly for all to see. He refused to even shake Quentin’s hand. “You knew of their scheme,” he said by way of greeting. “Did you foil it or were you part of it?”
How like Reinhard to slice directly to the meat of the matter. “I overheard them, three nights ago,” Quentin said. He meant to stand, but at the Hawk’s gesture, he sat on a bench, his hands braced on his cane.
Let them think him more feeble than he was.
“Three nights?” Reinhard said. “And yet you brought no warning! What if you had not aided the lady in time!”
The Hawk raised a hand for silence. “Save your questions until Quentin has shared his tale.” He nodded at Quentin. “Tell us first what happened to you.”
“I was robbed in Spain and fool enough to fight the thieves. They ensured I could not pursue them, and perhaps intended that I would not be able to identify them.” He touched his eye patch.
“You had a destrier from Ravensmuir, but you arrived here on foot,” Ahearn noted.
“I believe it was Tyr that first attracted their avarice,” Quentin admitted, his heart heavy. He would never come to terms with that loss and regularly worried that the stallion had been injured or abandoned. His throat was tight when he spoke. “They surrounded me and cut his flank, not deeply but enough to spook him. When he threw me, they seized him and his trap, plus my armor, my boots and my coin. They left me to die, with only my chemise.” He forced a wry smile. “Perhaps it was not clean enough to tempt them.”
“But you did not die,” Reinhard noted, clearly doubting the tale. “Perhaps this is a ruse, and your belongings are at a tavern in Glasgow or Carlisle. Perhaps you came to Inverfyre for vengeance!”
Quentin met Reinhard’s gaze and refused to let his anger show. “A monk found me and showed me compassion, taking me to a hospital and paying for my care. I made the pilgrimage to Compostela in the company of Brother Guillaume and his fellows.”
“And then you came here,” Nigel said, his words quiet.
“To keep my promise to your sister, aye.”
Reinhard arched a brow, inviting the details.
“Before I left, I vowed to bring her a knife with a blade of Toledo steel. She is a valiant warrior in her own right, and I knew she would treasure a weapon of merit. That promise was the sole deed unfinished in my life, so I returned to keep my vow.”
Reinhard snorted at that. “And your timing was so perfect that you heard the scheme of the MacLarens just before it was launched. I say you lie.”
Ahearn cleared his throat. “He did ask about the warriors missing from the hall at the evening meal.”
“The better to assess Inverfyre’s strength?” Nigel asked, his gaze was considering. He did not seem to expect an answer, so Quentin did not give him one.
The tension was thick in the chamber.
“What of the blade you gave
to Mhairi?” Ahearn asked. “I thought I recognized it as the one you had before.”
“If you were robbed as you say, why would they leave you with such a fine blade?” Reinhard asked. “It would fetch a good price anywhere.”
“I fell upon it when attacked, hiding it from my assailants.” Quentin shrugged. “Perhaps it, too, had sufficient need of a polish that they underestimated its worth. I chose to believe that it had been left with me and that I had survived so that I might keep my promise to Mhairi. This was Brother Guillaume’s assessment of God’s will.”
Again there was a heavy silence and the air seemed thick with unspoken accusations.
“Tell us what you learned of the MacLarens,” the Hawk invited after several moments.
“I slept in the forest, every night of my journey north,” Quentin said. “If I wrap myself in my cloak and find a hollow, I am nigh invisible in the darkness. At least now, I escape the attention of bandits and thieves. Three nights past, when I approached Inverfyre, I heard the whispers.”
“From which direction did you approach?” Reinhard asked without looking up.
“The southwest. I took the road from Glasgow, then crossed the Rannoch Moor.”
“A hard journey,” Reinhard noted, granting Quentin a piercing glance. “You could have taken the road from the east and had an easier walk.”
Quentin’s gaze did not waver. “I have learned to avoid the busier thoroughfares. There are those who believe invalids make easy prey.”
“Two and a half days’ walk would put you well beyond Inverfyre’s boundaries,” Reinhard noted. “So far that it seems unlikely you would find any MacLarens conspiring there. Even at your current pace, you must make at least ten miles a day.”
“That is true enough,” Quentin acknowledged. “I was close to Inverfyre’s gates three days ago. It was falling dark. I planned to sleep, then approach the keep in the morning.”
“You would sleep in the forest instead of in the hall?” Reinhard demanded.
“I would be rested to better argue my case,” Quentin said and felt their suspicion redouble. “I was uncertain of my reception.”
The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales Page 4