The Thistle and the Rose

by May McGoldrick

  “It wasn't a betrayal,” Colin said, defending her against her own charges. “You had taken an oath to protect the Crown Prince. But I was so insecure about you. About your independence, even about Ambrose's attentions.”

  “You aren't to blame for that,” Celia answered, looking up into his face. “It was I who created that insecurity by not confiding in you.”

  “Nay,” Colin replied shortly, shaking his head in response. He gazed down at the woman in his arms. “In spite of all the advantages I've had in my life, I still have much to learn. Maybe because of those advantages. I get angry when things do not go as I think they should.”

  “You mean you're spoiled?” Celia teased, smiling tentatively at him.

  “Aye, my love,” Colin admitted slowly. “And I do not share very well.”

  “But I thought the Campbells were the most sharing of the Scottish lairds,” she said, moving her hands from his chest and encircling his waist with them.

  “I'm very possessive of what's mine,” he growled affectionately.

  “Are you?” she asked in mock disbelief.

  “Aye, Celia, you are one thing I will not share,” Colin said seriously. “Not now, not ever.”

  “Do you still want me, Colin?” she asked, her eyes glistening in the noon sun.

  “I've never stopped wanting you, Celia,” he answered. “I love you.”

  “Colin, I love y—” she began, but did not finish as he stopped her mouth with a kiss.

  They clung to one another, each cherishing the sudden knowledge that their love had taken them past an abyss that had threatened to swallow their happiness.

  Resting his chin on the top of her head, Colin's gaze finally took in the garden before him. He had not even noticed the changes that Celia had wrought in a single morning.

  Drawing his head back to comment to her about the huge brush pile, Colin realized that Celia's hair was tangled with brush. He smiled as he stepped back, examining her disheveled condition.

  Celia's face was a blotchy smear of dirt, sweat, and tears. Taking her hands and spreading them to look at her dress, he saw that the evident scratches and dirt were proof of the hard work she'd put into the garden.

  “You've been busy, this morning,” he said chuckling.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, turning with a sweeping gesture of one hand. “It's just a start, but...”

  “It's beautiful,” he said, hardly looking at the grounds. His eyes were appraising this woman, whose beauty was not one whit diminished by the effects of her labor. Her face was an open expression of one at peace with herself. Colin sensed that he was seeing the Celia who was, for the first time, free of the burdensome secret of her cares and worries. She was radiant.

  Glancing around at him, she realized that he wasn't even looking at her work. Whirling on him, she planted her hands on her hips and glared affectionately.

  “You're not even looking, Colin,” she scolded.

  “Oh, aye. That I am,” he responded. “And I'm seeing just what I want to see.”

  Celia's face became contemplative for a moment. Then, taking him by the hand, she led him to a newly cleared turf bench beneath the blossoms of the cherry tree.

  “Colin, I want you to see me exactly as I am,” she said, holding his hand in her lap. “And I want you to know everything I know.”

  Celia took a deep breath, thinking back over the past two years, wondering where to begin. She knew that there was so much he wanted to know about her. There was so much she had to tell.

  Colin sat patiently, secure in this new level their relationship had reached.

  “My life at court was a lonely life,” Celia said. “Before the incident that Ambrose spoke of this morning, I had been a member of Queen Margaret's household, but in name only. My relationship with the queen has never exactly been friendly. She made no secret of the fact that she didn't want me around her. She said often enough I should be married in England to the man her father had picked out...just as she had to be in Scotland with the man her father had chosen for her. For Margaret, marriages are arranged, and love is a romantic illusion.

  “I was in her entourage, but the queen seemed powerless in matters regarding me, as if I were under the protection of the king himself. Her obvious dislike of me made me an outsider among the other women. Not even one of the queen's ladies cared to know me. But that, in a way, was a blessing because I was able to spend time studying with Father William or in disguise, training with Edmund's soldiers. But it was borrowed time, and I knew it. Every day I felt as though the future would come crashing down on me.

  “And then, two years ago, the king had the tournament that Danvers attended. I thought the time had come when I'd have to go to England with him. God knows, I tried to resign myself to my fate. But when I saw how he acted—so boorishly, so cruelly, so devoid of chivalry or even common decency—all the revulsion that I had for him flooded back into me. I struck him there not to bring any kind of acclaim upon myself, but rather to vent my hatred, my fury, and my disgust for him.

  “For some reason, though, Danvers was not allowed to take me out of Scotland after the tournament, and he left soon after.

  “But after that, my life at court changed. People noticed me who had never noticed me before. People spoke to me who had never spoken to me before. That was how I met the earl of Huntly. After the tournament, he took pains to see that I was accepted at court. I realized that I had found a patron.”

  “Was he trying to arrange a marriage for you in his own family?” Colin asked, curious about Huntly's motives for helping this precious jewel.

  “No, everyone knew that I was as good as promised to Danvers. And besides that, I had nothing to bring to his family.”

  “Celia,” Colin responded, taking both her hands in his. “All the riches in the world cannot outweigh what you hold within you.”

  “Colin, not everyone values me as I know you do.”

  “You're wrong about that, my love.” Colin smiled. “But I interrupted your story.”

  “Huntly's influence made me feel as if I'd found a country to call my own. I began to know that Scotland's history and mine were connected. I saw the struggle against English oppression as my own struggle. They were both struggles for independence. And during that time I learned about my heritage, about the history of Scotland, and about the Stewarts. I saw the goal of the Stewarts was to make Scotland a single country, one where everyone would have the ability to build a life that is good and wholesome, a life of his or her own choosing.”

  “What you say is true, Celia,” Colin put in. “James's father and grandfather and great-grandfather all had that dream. And the Highlanders have fought them all. But under this James, the Western Isles and the Highlands were finally won over. He was a strong king, and with very few exceptions, the Highland chiefs grew devoted to him.”

  “But as you know,” Celia continued. “Everything changed when the King fell at Flodden. Edinburgh had been struck with the plague at the end of last summer, so the court moved to the palace at Linlithgow. The queen had been opposed to the king's decision to move against her brother, so before he went back to gather his forces at Edinburgh, the queen left Kit and took just her inner circle of friends to the castle at Stirling. The earl of Huntly was left in charge of the forces at Linlithgow, and Edmund and I were left there as well.

  “For as long as I live, I'll never forget the days that followed the news of Flodden. The few men who straggled back gave out their news of the dead...of their friends and neighbors and fathers and brothers...and then the shrieking and the keening of the women and the old people and the children...my God, Colin, it was horrible. The sight of the widows wandering, wretched, their children clinging to their dresses, their bairns wailing in their arms.”

  Celia paused as the horror of the memory ran its course once again in her mind.

  Colin, too, recalled the past October. King James had sent him to aid the King's cousin, the Duke of Albany, in his fight ag
ainst the English invaders in France. At first, he heard of an overwhelming victory by the Scottish over the English. But then, three days later, the truth had come to them about the devastating loss of the king, the majority of the Scottish nobility, and the thousands upon thousands of Scotland's finest young warriors, all destroyed in a single, bloody afternoon.

  Colin's guilt and anguish had torn at him then—as it was tearing at him now. His unseeing gaze swept over the garden walls and out to the watery horizon. If only he had been there. If only he could have...

  “We received word from Argyll,” Celia continued, drawing Colin's attention again. “He was one of the few earls to survive the slaughter, and he was going back to his holdings in the Highlands. He said that the king had been wounded and spirited toward Edinburgh.

  “But no one knew for certain what had happened to the king. In fact, stories kept arriving at court that the king had been seen riding away from the blood-soaked field, or that he'd been captured and was en route to London. No one knew.

  “The earl of Huntly took only two days to ready his forces for a move to the southeast. He knew he had to fortify Edinburgh Castle in case the English followed up their butchery with an invasion of Scotland. And if the king's life were in jeopardy, he wanted to be near him. By the time Huntly reached Edinburgh, the town had been burned, but the English withdrew as he approached.

  “But the night before his army left Linlithgow Palace, a detachment came from the queen with a message expressing her safety concerns and demanding that the Crown Prince be sent west to Stirling. Huntly called Edmund in and told him that the queen had commanded that I was to accompany the armed guard, as well, to Stirling in the morning.

  “But it didn't make sense. The queen had never wanted me near her. And there was no reason for her to be suddenly worried about my safety. Suspicious, Edmund went to the captain of the guard, a drinking man who owed Edmund for saving his skin a number of times. Well, Edmund found out that the captain's verbal orders were to take the `Muir woman' and the prince not to Stirling but only as far west as Falkirk, where they would be met by another escort.

  “Edmund knew exactly what that meant, and so did Huntly. The queen was turning her own bairn over to the English. Later, I heard that it was Lord Danvers who was waiting to ambush the escort at Falkirk.

  “Huntly needed to act quickly. He couldn't defy the queen publicly, and he had to march southeast to defend Edinburgh. He made a decision and had Edmund summon me and Father William.

  “We were to take the prince and go to Caithness Hall in the Western Lowlands for the time being. Edmund knew that Lady Caithness and her bairn had been in England for months, and we had received word that Lord Caithness was among the dead. So Huntly decided we were to wait there at Caithness until Argyll arrived with a force to protect us. Until it was safe to return. We were to pretend that Kit was my own. With so many of our nobles dead at Flodden, a widow with a bairn would be, sadly, a common sight.

  “Father William was the one who brought Ellen to us. We took the prince and fled west, making a wide sweep around Falkirk and Stirling Castle. Our first weeks at Caithness Hall were uneventful, and I spent so much time with Kit that I grew to think of him as mine.

  “But soon we heard stories of Danvers's bloody massacres. I know that he started his rampage after no one showed up at Falkirk. We also received word from Huntly that the king was dead, and that the queen indeed had not made public that the prince was missing. She seemed to be stalling—perhaps she was maneuvering for power, perhaps she had some other reason. Or maybe she was hoping that Danvers would find the child. I do not know. But Huntly's message made it clear that no one knew where we were—with the exception of Kit's uncle, the earl of Argyll. If we needed anything, we were to send a message to Argyll.”

  “Argyll fooled a lot of people,” Colin remarked, the sharp edge in his voice betraying the violence he was feeling. “He must have sent word to Danvers that you were at Caithness Hall.”

  “Aye,” Celia responded, making the connection. “But at the time, we just thought it was part of Danvers's destructive sweep.”

  “So when you fled Caithness, you intended to go to Argyll?” Colin asked.

  “Aye, the only thing that stopped us from going directly to Argyll's winter castle was that we had heard he was in the Northern Highlands at a gathering of the clan chieftains. When Kit became ill on the journey, it was Edmund's suggestion that we come to Kildalton, sending Father William on to the abbey near Argyll's holding. He was to get word to us of the earl's return.

  “I think I know the rest,” Colin said, putting his arm around her and pulling her against him.

  “Not everything,” Celia answered, sitting up straight. “While we were at Argyll's castle, I heard from a bragging servant girl that he was planning to forcibly marry me. For money, she said, which doesn't make any sense.”

  “Well, that was a plan that was doomed to fail,” Colin replied firmly. “You're mine, Celia.”

  Celia glanced up into his warm face. His eyes showed so much of his character, his self-assurance, his emotions. She looked across the garden, at the ivy that blanketed the wall of the South Hall. She looked at that green covering that had probably been planted by a single pair of hands on a day perhaps much like this one.

  “Colin, what happened last night was incredibly wonderful.”

  “Aye,” he interrupted. “We'll have a lifetime of nights like that, my sweet.”

  “Please,” she faltered, flustered at what she wanted—and didn't want—to say. “You are not bound to me by anything that happened last night. I came to your room. You don't...I wouldn't...”

  Colin lifted her chin gently until Celia was looking into his eyes. Tenderly he placed his full lips upon hers. Drawing only a whisper away, his words carried the depth of his feeling for her.

  “I love you, Celia,” he said softly, stroking the side of her face with his fingers. “That is what binds me to you.”

  Celia took Colin's hand and looked at him steadily.

  “Colin, I have nothing to bring to this marriage. I have no money, no name, no training as a wife.”

  “Celia, you have everything that I need,” he responded, answering her gaze. “You are all that I have ever wanted.”

  “But...but...you know I cannot marry you,” she said, looking away from him, trying to focus on the reality, the danger still threatening Kit, still awaiting all of them.

  “I know you can,” he responded, taking her chin again and bringing her gaze back to his own. “I know you want it the same as I.”

  “Oh, Colin,” Celia blurted in frustration, leaping to her feet. Taking a couple of steps, she stood with her back to him, her arms wound tightly around her middle. “It has nothing to do with what I want. I still...I still have a mission that I must accomplish. I have Kit, and I cannot think of...I just do not know what will happen.”

  Colin moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her tightly against him, he rubbed his cheek against her silky hair. Turning her around, he took both her hands in his.

  “Celia,” he began. “He is my king, as well. When the prince was anointed at birth, I took an oath of fealty to serve and to protect him. Our oaths make us allies, but our love makes us invincible. Your mission is to keep him safe until Huntly secures his life and his throne. We are meant to be together. And like everything else we will face in our lives, we will overcome any obstacle and accomplish this mission together.”

  “But there is still Danvers,” she said with frustration. “By now, he knows where we are. I know him, Colin. He might give up the search for Kit by Henry's order, but he'll never give up on me. He hates me. I wounded his pride. He'll not stop until he finds me.”

  Colin paused, weighing his answer carefully. He would not let her run for the rest of her life from the evil that had been haunting her. She would never have to run again.

  “Then we let him find you...here,” Colin said firmly. “I want him to
come here, Celia. It is time he paid for the crimes he has committed across this land. It is time he and I met.”

  “Colin, he is evil,” Celia responded quickly. This was the last thing she wanted, to bring the wrath of Danvers down on these innocent people and on Colin. “He does not fight fair. He uses trickery. He uses spies.”

  “Celia, trust me,” he said reassuringly. “We will be ready for him. Kildalton is the strongest fortress in the Western Isles. We'll know when he's within a day's march or within a day's sail, and we'll let him put his own head in the noose.”

  A glimmer of hope lightened her soul, but only for a moment. The dangers were still so frightening. But Celia knew what Colin said was true. The only way to stop Danvers was to face him...and to kill him.

  “Celia, we cannot know for certain what the future brings. We can only prepare ourselves as best we can. We can only live today.”

  Celia nodded. “I know that, Colin. But when the time comes, you must remember that it is my fight, as well.”

  “Aye. I'll remember.” Colin looked at the slender frame of the woman before him. Only when Danvers lay dead at his feet would Colin let Celia near her enemy. He smiled at her again.

  “You're a liar, Colin Campbell,”—she smiled back— “But a winning one.”

  “Then you'll marry me?” he asked.

  “Aye, Colin,” Celia whispered, moving into his embracing arms and tilting her face up against his chest.

  “Together, my love,” he growled softly, “nothing can stop us.”

  “Together, my love,” she replied, lifting her slightly parted lips to his.

  With a gesture as ageless as the love that bound them, the union of their lips sealed the covenant. Each feeling the warmth of the other, they stood pressed together. Two bodies, two minds, two hearts...one future.

  The news of their intended marriage broke over the household that afternoon with the power of a tidal wave. The happiness and the excitement of the announcement were only surmounted by the disarray that resulted from Colin's insistence that the ceremony be held on Easter Monday. Agnes and Ellen wept, while Alec jokingly tried to talk `sense' into Celia. Lord Hugh simply smothered her with a hug tight enough to crack her ribs. Celia and Colin both laughed at Father William's threat of continued chaperoning in the days ahead. But the most important person of all still needed to be told. Edmund had gone down into the village with Alec's brother, and Celia and Colin awaited her uncle's return.