“Aye,” Celia answered, only half attending to what Alec was saying.
“In fact, he says that you are an excellent sailor.”
“My uncle likes to boast about me,” Celia answered, feeling a bit embarrassed by Edmund's avuncular affection. “I pretty much grew up on the water.”
“My whole family has been involved with boats,” Alec said, smiling. Actually, his family had made a fortune raiding merchant ships like the ones Celia grew up on. “But my stomach was never suited to the work.”
“Oh?” Celia really didn't want to trade confessions with Alec Macpherson. Her mind was too preoccupied with the flood of danger spilling northward, and its impact. Once again so close. Once again on her trail. Following them.
But Alec was not one to let a beautiful woman off the hook so easily. He knew from watching them together that Colin was really taken by Celia, and he would respect that. However, this was just innocent conversation. “Did you sail much at court?”
“Not much,” Celia responded shortly, surprised at her own abruptness. He is just being friendly, she thought. I suppose I shouldn't be rude.
“That's understandable,” Alec said with a devilish glint in his eye. “There are gentler, more appropriate pursuits for ladies of the court.”
“Actually, Lord Alec,” Celia snapped. “I did get a chance to navigate the queen's boat in the sailing race during the Anniversary celebration last summer.”
Alec had been at court for the king and queen's tenth wedding anniversary celebration last August, but the festivities included a great deal of hunting, an activity that drew Alec's attention more than any other. The king’s entourage had carried the celebration from Linlithgow to Stirling for the hunting and to Edinburgh for the remainder of the festivities—including sailing races. Alec, though, had stayed at Stirling to hunt with the king for an extra week while the celebration moved on ahead of them.
“You must have sailed quite a bit, then, preparing.”
Celia could see that Alec was in some way impressed.
“We did sail often during the summer, but not as much as I would have liked,” Celia responded. “But there was a great deal going on.”
“I should say so,” Alec said. “And a great deal since.” It was still so hard to believe the amount of changes that Scotland had undergone in the past seven months. And like so many, this woman, too, had undergone so many changes in seven short months. Seven months, Alec thought suddenly.
“You know, Lady Caithness, my family speaks highly of you,” Alec said, watching her expression. “I meant to tell you earlier...I'm sorry that I was not in Scotland when you visited Ambrose at our home in Benmore Castle, but my parents truly enjoyed your stay.”
“I...er...I enjoyed meeting them, too.” Celia darted a look at Alec. Just my luck, she thought. Lady Caithness and the Macphersons. Time to change the subject. “Did you say you do not care to sail, m'lord?”
“I'm a bit prone to seasickness,” Alec said roughly, his attention now turning to the village harbor that lay directly ahead.
There was something that annoyed Celia about the abrupt change in his tone. However, following Alec's look, Celia saw Colin standing with a group of men where the beach and jetty met. The beach that had been empty the day before was now lined for some distance with shallow-bottomed fishing boats. Celia spotted Edmund near two fishermen who were just pulling a boat up onto the beach. As they passed across the Marketcross area, she saw scattered groups of refugees huddled around sputtering turf fires. People were moving about from group to group, and Alec roughly took hold of Celia's arm as they weaved their way through the open square.
Seeing Edmund alone, she knew that Father William had not been among the arrivals. She had known that her uncle would have sent word if Dunbar had arrived, but certain now, Celia felt a mixed sense of relief and disappointment.
Colin saw her. Alec was leading Celia past a group of peasants. The warrior separated himself from the others and walked quickly to them.
“You two out for a stroll?” Colin snapped, looking at Alec's hand on Celia's arm.
“Hardly,” Celia responded shortly. “I came down to see Edmund.”
Colin watched as Alec dropped her arm, his friend's grim face reflecting the sound of Celia's abrupt tone.
“Well, I'll take you to him,” Colin said gruffly, trying to take her arm as Alec had. But Celia shook loose from his light grip.
“That will not be necessary,” Celia said. “I can see him.”
Annoyed at her treatment by the two giants, Celia moved quickly ahead of them toward her uncle. She wasn't going to stand for either Alec's moody questioning, or Colin's accusing looks. She had enough problems of her own to deal with.
A tug on her cloak spun Celia around.
“Thank the Lord. They didn't catch you, m'lady.”
Celia took a moment to recognize the woman.
“Eustace!” she gasped, surprised at the sight of her. Celia embraced the woman warmly. “No, your husband and his relatives gave up the chase soon enough.”
“I didn't mean that lowlife, horse-thieving brute...m'lady,” the woman said bitterly.
“You know this woman?” Colin asked Celia, as he and Alec came up on either side of Celia.
“Aye. This woman defied her Gregor husband to save us from having our throats cut as we slept,” Celia grasped the woman's hands in both of hers. “She risked her life for us. She's a brave soul.”
“And I'm not a Gregor, m'lord,” Eustace said emphatically. “I'm of your clan.”
“What happened to your husband?” Colin asked.
“I think he ran off into the hills when the English soldiers came looking for this lady here.” Eustace looked from Celia's shocked face to those of the two giants who flanked the lady.
“How do you know that the soldiers were looking for her?” Edmund broke in. He had seen Celia be approached by the woman and, recognizing her from their journey, had crossed the stone square to them.
“I heard the soldiers, m'lord,” Eustace said, curtsying to the knight. She would never forget him or his kindness for as long as she lived. “They were using the cottage for their evil business. I was hiding in the root cellar after my husband left me, and I could hear the English scum torturing answers out of the local crofters. The screams were horrible, m'lord. I never heard the like.”
Eustace shuddered at the memory as she continued. “They were looking for your lady here, m'lord.”
“How do you know they were looking for this lady?” Colin asked roughly. He was about ready to shake some answers out of this woman himself, but what she had been through must have been truly dreadful.
“For two days, I heard him, the leader, say the same thing over and over. A dark-haired lady with a bairn, a fair-haired nursemaid, a tall knight, and a priest. He even knew your name, m'lady.”
“What name did they say?” Alec asked accusingly, looking from Celia's blanched expression to Edmund's hardened face.
Eustace looked carefully into Celia's eyes before responding cautiously.
“Why, Lady...Celia,” Eustace answered. “They were looking for Lady Celia.”
“I'm glad no harm came to you,” Celia said, looking gratefully at the woman. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“Aye, m'lady. My sister will take me in. She lives here, just outside the village.”
“I'll stop and see you then, before we leave.”
“LEAVE?” Colin's barely restrained voice resounded over the stone paving.
Celia turned and looked steadily at Colin, speaking to her uncle without once taking her eyes from the warrior's fierce face.
“Edmund, please take me back to the castle.”
“Celia, we need to talk,” Colin said, his voice steeled with authority.
“We'll talk later,” Celia said, turning from him.
Colin grabbed her elbow, demanding her attention. “We will talk later.”
Turning to two of his fighters, Colin directed the men to
accompany Celia and Edmund as far as the castle gates.
Celia turned and strode off, leaving the men in her wake.
Colin watched her disappear into the crowd. Then, turning gently to Eustace, the warrior invited her to come up to the castle after she'd settled in.
As the woman withdrew, Colin looked into his friend's scowling face. Alec was obviously angry, but Colin hadn't any idea what had triggered his anger. He wondered if Alec had learned something new from Edmund that Colin didn't know.
“What's bothering you?” Colin asked, looking intensely into Alec's eyes.
Alec shifted his eyes away from Colin, looking out at the ships anchored in the harbor and at the fishing boats lying beached on the sand.
“I've found out something that you might care to know,” he said, turning his gaze back to Colin. “She is not Lady Caithness.”
Chapter 8
You'll be home for Easter, the messenger from the south tells us on the sly. King's orders... we'll all be home for Easter. But that was yesterday. Today, the messenger is gone. Today, Danvers gives his command...we are moving north. Today, tomorrow, the next day...we go where he commands.
“Aye,” Colin replied coolly. “I know that.”
“What?” Alec asked, dumbfounded. “How long have you known that?”
“For the past half hour.”
Colin and Alec walked down to the fishing boats lying heeled over in the sand. Colin leaned back heavily against one of them and looked out into the gray murk beyond the harbor mouth.
“How did you find out?” the Macpherson heir asked.
“The priest who had just come in when you went up to the castle recognized Edmund,” Colin explained. “He was from a village on Caithness land. From the way the priest talked, Edmund is a legend in the Lowlands. And the priest knows the real Lady Caithness. He says she's in England with her bairn.”
“Then who is Celia?” Alec asked.
“He says that in the days following Flodden, Edmund arrived at Caithness Hall with a group, including his niece, a Lady Celia. Everyone knew she was nobility from the moment they arrived. The priest was driven toward the coast ahead of the English army, so he didn't know what happened to them. But later on, when he was traveling with the other refugees, he heard that the English were looking for a woman with her description, as this woman Eustace just said. That's all he could tell me, though.”
“So that's what the English are after,” Alec thought out loud.
“I've known something was not right from the beginning,” Colin continued. “I just didn't know what it was. In fact, I still do not. But how did you find out about her?”
Alec explained the lie he had used to test Celia during their conversation walking to the harbor. He had known full well that Lady Caithness had never visited Ambrose and his family, and Celia had been so different from the image that his brothers had conveyed.
“But I had tested her only when she gave me reason to suspect something else,” Alec said, looking at his pensive friend.
“What else?” Colin queried, expecting the worst.
“I think that bairn might not be her own.”
“WHAT?” It was Colin's turn to be dumbfounded. “What makes you think that?”
“She told me she was sailing in the king's anniversary celebration races last summer.”
“So what?” Colin could see no relevance in Alec's comment.
“Agnes told me the bairn is seven months old.”
Colin looked at his friend blankly.
“Seven months old?” Alec grinned, watching Colin work through the calculations in his mind. “I'm no expert on women's conditions around the time of childbirth, but I have a hard time believing she could have been sailing last summer. Maybe she did sail in those races...or maybe she didn't have a bairn at all.”
As Colin absorbed the import of Alec's information, he felt a wave of hope. When he'd first heard that Celia was not whom she claimed to be, a vague fear had washed over him. If Caithness was not her husband, then who was? The thought of her having a living husband had chilled him to the bone. In his heart he felt that together they could work out any difficulty...except that.
Colin's mood, when Celia and Alec had arrived at the harbor, had been anything but cordial. He had wanted to take Edmund aside and question him about the priest's statements, but he had held himself back. Colin had wanted to ask Celia directly. He still wanted to.
But now there was a glimmer of hope in the cloud of confusion Colin was experiencing. If Kit was not her baby, then maybe...
“Who do you think she is?” Colin asked.
“I think you should just go up there and ask her.”
“Nay, she came to us for help. If I confront her with this, she'll run,” Colin said, knowing deep in his heart that this was the last thing he wanted to happen. He cared for her so much already.
“How about Edmund?”
“If I were to question that knight's honor, then I'd have to be prepared to fight him,” Colin responded quietly. “I'm not ready to kill an old friend of my father's.”
“Well, then, what do we know for sure about them?” Alec threw out, his mind trying to recollect and sort what he knew.
“Honestly, we know very little,” Colin responded. “And in the conversations I’ve had with my father, he’s been strangely evasive about them. The only things I really know are that Edmund was a part of the king's entourage, that the English followed Celia and the bairn clear across the Lowlands, and that there are Highlanders willing to kill her...or the bairn.”
That was enough for Alec to like her, to want her to be protected, but he sensed that he needed to reason clearly right now, for Colin's sake, as well.
“But we do not know the reason for any of this, do we?” Alec asked. “Why is she running? Who is she? Is the bairn hers? Or if not, whose is it?”
“God knows,” Colin answered. “With all the nobles that died at Flodden, Kit could be the child of any one of a thousand different lairds.”
“Then why are the English chasing her?” Alec went on.
“And what is her friend, this Father William, doing up at the abbey by Argyll's castle,” Colin added thoughtfully.
“It seems to me,” Alec concluded, “that this woman—whoever she is—is trouble you'd be better off without. If she's not going to be honest with you, then why not just let her run?”
“That is not an option I want to give her right now.”
“Why not?” Alec asked. “You have enough to worry about right now, getting the clans to rally behind the Crown Prince.”
“That's true,” Colin said. “In fact, I got word this morning that Argyll has returned to his winter castle, and I want to talk to him about where he stands...and soon.”
“So we'll be going up there?”
“Aye, tomorrow or the next day,” Colin answered. “And while we're there, we'll find out about the abbey soldier involved with the attack.”
“And what are you going to do about Celia?”
“I'll make sure she stays here until we get back.” Colin would use information about her priest friend as enticement for her to remain until he and Alec returned. “If she runs from here with the English after her, more people will get hurt. If we have to fight Danvers and his English butchers, let it be right here.”
But inwardly, Colin's feelings were different from those he was willing to express to Alec. There was too much about this woman that appealed to Colin, that attracted him. He was sure that beneath the cloud of circumstance, beneath the veneer of false identity, Celia could be the woman he'd been searching for his whole life. He simply could not let her walk out of his life right now.
Celia and Edmund moved quickly ahead of the two trailing soldiers on the paved road. As they walked, Celia focused her eyes downward on the shiny wetness of the round paving stones, but she was thinking only of Colin's fierce glare, a look that had frozen her blood in her veins.
Moving up the hill toward the end of
the village, she felt a tearing sensation in her chest, a suffocating closeness that encompassed her like a cloud. Celia felt something akin to grief, to the mournful sense of loss that accompanies the death of a loved one. She felt that she had somehow lost a dream of happiness. A dream to love and to be loved. A dream that Celia knew had never really been a possibility, but was a longed-for dream nonetheless.
“Argyll is back,” Edmund said in a low voice, casting his eyes backward to make sure the soldiers were out of earshot.
“You heard from Father William?” she asked, painfully aware that the time had come for them to leave.
“I received a note from Dunbar, but I haven't opened it yet,” he replied. “The fisherman that I paid to take the message to the abbey brought back word that the earl had just arrived.”
“Read the letter to me, Edmund,” Celia said resignedly. She was holding back her tears, now. Already, there existed in Celia a clear sense of just how painful that parting from this place, from these people...from Colin...would be.
Edmund broke the wax seal that held the folded parchment closed. They continued to walk as his eyes perused the scrawling hand of the priest.
“Just like Dunbar,” Edmund said ironically. “We ask for a straight answer, and he sends us a poem:
Walking solitary, you alone,
Seeing nothing but sticks and stone;
Out of your painful purgatory
To bring you to the bliss and glory
Of Argyll's place, a merry town,
We here convey this joyful sound.
Well, at least, he's clear about the message. We'll leave for Argyll in the morning.”
“No, Edmund,” Celia said, taking the paper out of her uncle's hand. “Something's wrong. He's warning us to stay away.”
“How do you read that?” Edmund asked, looking perplexed.
“William Dunbar is a master of the ironic,” Celia answered with a slight smile. “When we exchanged messages at court that we didn't want understood by others, we wrote them in verse.”
“So?” This was not getting any clearer for Edmund.
The Thistle and the Rose Page 14