A Sword Upon The Rose

by Brenda Joyce

  “I intend to find out!” He turned his back to her and called to a serving maid. Then he faced her anew. “We heard about the battle,” he then said to her. “I had sent a small force south, and Iain of Islay defeated my men at Boath Manor. Did you see the fighting?”

  “When we heard the battle, we hid in the woods until it was safe to escape to the farmhouse, where we spent the night, waiting for the army to leave.” She would repeat this story until the end of time, if need be.

  “You forget, I know you well, I have known you since you were six or seven.” Duncan had become her guardian when she was six, which was when he had also become castellan—not lord—of Brodie. “You remain as curious as a wild little cat. You did not care to see who was fighting?”

  “This war means little to me.”

  “Yet it means everything to Buchan—your uncle.”

  Alana shrugged.

  “So you never saw Iain of Islay—Iain the Fierce?” The question seemed rhetorical, as he began to reflectively pace. Head down, hands clasped, he said, “He is a cousin to Angus Og, Bruce’s best friend in this war, and Angus has given him an army of savage Highlanders. They have murdered and raped their way across the mountains, burning down both home and field alike.”

  Alana trembled. She did not believe it.

  He stared. “And how is it that I now have your interest and attention?”

  Iain had turned Boath Manor into a pile of ash-strewn rubble. But no one had been murdered or raped—not that she knew of. In fact, she had seen him risk his life to rescue Mistress MacDuff and her two children.

  “He sounds frightening,” she said.

  “He does not take prisoners, and he leaves no enemy alive.”

  Alana bit her lip. She was the enemy and she was very much alive. But of course, she was a woman.

  “How is it, Alana, that he or his watch did not remark you?”

  Alana shook her head. “I told you—we hid in the woods until we thought we could go back down the road to the old farmhouse.” And there had been an abandoned farmhouse on the road, one partly burned, but hopefully, inhabitable. They had just never paused there.

  “Then you are very fortunate. I am fortunate that you were not captured.” He eyed her with continued skepticism. “How fares Godfrey? Brodie?”

  She felt chilled, and she rubbed her arms. “When we left, the castle stood, unharmed. Do you think it will be attacked?”

  “Bruce’s army has made camp to the south of us. He could strike Nairn, Elgin or Brodie, or any number of smaller castles and manors.” He gave her a dark and long look. “We do not know where he will strike next, Alana.” He walked over to her and laid his hand upon her shoulder.

  Alana trembled. Did he expect her to predict where Bruce would next attack? She pulled away from his odious touch.

  Eleanor asked, “Has the Earl of Buchan arrived, my lord?”

  “He is expected at any time. Why do you ask, Eleanor?” He was mocking.

  “I have not seen the earl in a great many years and I am curious.” Eleanor smiled pleasantly.

  “Curious? Come, old woman, we know one another too well. You seek something from the mighty earl—everyone does.”

  “And do you truly care?” Eleanor asked.

  Duncan stared at Alana now, his blue gaze unwavering. “If you think to place Alana under Buchan’s protection, then yes, I care. She is my ward.”

  Alana was stunned and dismayed at once. “You have no care for me,” she began.

  “Shut up,” Duncan said. He now approached tiny Eleanor. “She has always been your sole concern. Will you not appeal to her great-uncle, on her behalf?”

  Eleanor still smiled. “You know me well, Sir Duncan. Alana needs a husband.”

  “Alana could be valuable to me, old woman. I need her.”

  Alana inhaled. “I have never been valuable to you! Not in the dozen years I have been under your protection at Brodie Castle!”

  He approached, smiling coldly. “But we have never been in such danger. The earldom is under attack!”

  A terrible silence fell. He suddenly found her valuable because of her sight. “What do you want of me?” she asked. But she knew. This was not about the lie she had told his son. He wished to know about Bruce’s plans—he wished for her to foresee them!

  He slowly smiled. He touched her chin with his stout finger. She recoiled inwardly, but did not move. “You begin to please me, at last.... Tell me what you saw the other day.”

  She stepped back, and his hand fell away. “I saw a battle, that is all.” Images from her vision—from the battle at Boath Manor—flashed. They competed with every memory she now had of Iain, and of her last glimpse of the manor, burned to the snowy ground.

  “No. Godfrey says you saw me triumphant in battle.”

  Alana did not dare glance at Eleanor. Her mind raced. She did not want to have any value to Duncan. It had been bad enough being his ward for most of her life, when he mostly ignored her and occasionally lusted for her. If she let him believe she had had a vision about him in battle, he would certainly think her a valuable asset. He might even think her valuable if she told him that she had foreseen the battle at Boath Manor. She could do neither, then.

  But she did not want to anger him, either—not if she could avoid it. She decided to try to hedge.

  “I saw a battle, and there was both victory and defeat. I cannot be certain you were the victor. It was a confusing sight.”

  His face mottled with anger. “That is not what Godfrey claimed. He wrote me and said you saw me triumphant, Alana.” Warning was in his tone. “So think again and do not lie to me.”

  “Men were fighting, and I saw Bruce’s flag.” She hesitated. “I think you were there. I do not know anything else.”

  “You think I was present? You do not know anything else? You told Godfrey I was victorious!”

  “The vision was not clear.”

  He was disbelieving. “The vision was not clear? Or you will not tell me about it?”

  Eleanor stepped forward. “We are sorry, my lord, truly sorry.”

  Alana now regretted ever lying to Godfrey in the first place, and all for spite. But if she had not lied, she would not have been on the road near Boath Manor. Clearly, she had been meant to be on that road, although she still did not know why.

  She thought of Iain, of his kiss and knew she must not allow her thoughts to go further.

  “Buchan will not be pleased to hear of such a confusing vision,” he spat. He strode to the table and picked up a mug and drained it. Then he slammed it down. It was a moment before he faced her. “I am not pleased. I need details, Alana.”

  Dismay flooded her. “Why will you tell my uncle about this small, confusing vision?”

  “Why do you think I brought you here? I wish for you to help us! To help me! If your uncle doesn’t know about your visions, then I will be the first to tell him.” Duncan whirled and waved at a maid. “Wine, wench, bring me wine!”

  Alana turned away. Did the Earl of Buchan even know that she had the sight?

  Would her father have even bothered to mention that his bastard daughter was a witch? She simply did not know.

  And what would happen when Buchan arrived? When her father arrived? Duncan now, suddenly, considered her valuable. Until now neither her father nor Buchan had thought about her. Was it possible that would change?

  Would her uncle—her father—value her because she was a witch?

  She felt no excitement. Instead, Alana wanted to cry.

  Eleanor put her arm around her. “My lord, we are both fatigued from such an unusual journey. Could we retire?”

  “I am not done with you.” Duncan turned his regard on Alana. “If you hid in the woods near Iain of Islay’s army...did you see him?”
r />   Alana did not know what to say.

  “Tell me the truth, Alana. Had you been in the woods, you would have stolen forth to witness the battle—I have no doubt! Well? Surely you would notice him!”

  Alana wet her lips, shaken. “Why would you ask?”

  “I was told Iain was wounded. There was a great deal of blood. Did you see him bleeding out? If I am very fortunate, he is dead!”

  “There was blood everywhere! There were wounded men and the dead!”

  Duncan stared angrily. “I think you enjoy lying to me. Well, you will not enjoy it when Nairn falls to those bloodthirsty Highlanders.”

  Alana shivered and pulled her wool mantle closer.

  “Is he such a terrible enemy, my lord?” her grandmother asked.

  Duncan faced her. “Before he was given this army, he was but one more mad Highlander eager to slit our throats in the night. He preyed upon our ships on the western seas. Upon our merchants on the high roads. But that has changed. Bruce has come into the habit of having him advance first in every fray, to secure a path for Bruce’s larger army. He has not been defeated since his cousin provisioned him.” He turned his stare upon Alana, and she glimpsed dread and fear in his eyes. “If he takes Nairn, none of us will survive.”

  Alana finally spoke, but thickly, “Is a peace possible?”

  “No.” Duncan was vehement. “Bruce intends to be king—just as he intends to destroy the earldom of Buchan.”

  And it seemed as if he was succeeding. The greater ramifications of the war began to sink in. Buchan destroyed, Brodie lost, her uncle and father hanged as traitors...

  “If Nairn is attacked—if any of my castles are attacked—I will instruct my archers to place all their attention upon any man who resembles Iain of Islay.” Duncan was final.

  Alana was aghast. Duncan hoped to assassinate Iain? Eleanor quickly put her arm around her. “We should go up,” her grandmother murmured.

  But Duncan walked over to her and rudely clasped her shoulder. His grip was hard, and Alana was forced to meet his gaze, as she could hardly get free.

  “Buchan will be here tomorrow,” he said. “By tomorrow, I expect you to have the answers you did not have today.”

  “I have told you everything.”

  “Have you?”

  “I cannot tell you what I do not know.”

  “Then try harder, Alana, to know what you must. Unless you wish to displease me another time, and displease your mighty uncle, as well.” Duncan released her and turned his back on them.

  Alana looked at her grandmother and, as one, they hurried from the hall. Outside, they paused, clasping hands. “He is threatening me!” she cried.

  Eleanor was as shaken. “We must be careful, Alana, truly careful, now.”

  “Yes, because suddenly I am valuable to them! But I am to please my uncle? How will I do that?” Alana cried. She lowered her voice. “Lying to Duncan is one thing. I do not think it wise to lie to the Earl of Buchan.”

  “You must not lie to your uncle—but you will not please him if he ever learns you care about Iain of Islay,” Eleanor said in a terse whisper.

  Alana flinched. “He is a stranger, Gran, that is all, and I doubt I will see him again.”

  Eleanor gave her a pitying look.

  * * *

  “IT IS THE EARL OF BUCHAN,” Eleanor said, hurrying into the small tower chamber they shared.

  It was the next afternoon. Alana took one look at her grandmother’s grim countenance and worried eyes and she rushed to the room’s single window. The shutters were closed to ward off the cold but she opened them and looked outside.

  It was another sunny day, with bright blue skies, the countryside patched with snow. A huge army was below the castle, a sea of tents being formed. And dozens of knights were riding up the road at a rapid trot, the earl’s banner waving above them. A black bear and gold lion were rampant atop a field of red, against a black, red and gold shield.

  She gripped the stone ledge of the window. Buchan would be amongst the first knights, wouldn’t he? She did not have a clue as to which rider he was.

  And was Sir Alexander with him?

  Would she finally see her father again, after all of these years? She was so afraid of what their reunion would be like!

  Eleanor put her arm around her. “Whatever you do, be polite, and do not displease him,” she said.

  Alana felt ill. “He will soon ask me about my vision—and it is a lie. I could not sleep at all last night. Every tale I have ever heard about the earl recurred to me. I do not know what to do.”

  “Then maybe it is time for the truth,” Eleanor said, low. “Without revealing your feelings.”

  Alana jerked, shocked by the suggestion. Was she saying that Alana should reveal her true vision about the battle at Boath Manor—about Iain of Islay? For if she did, Buchan would value her not as his niece, but as his witch.

  Both women turned back to the window and watched until the knights had ridden beneath the tower gates, and could be seen no more. Alana gripped her hands in front of her. She knew she would be summoned downstairs soon. She was frightened. “Is Buchan as ruthless as is claimed?” Alana whispered.

  Eleanor gave her a reassuring smile. “When I knew him as young man, he wasn’t ruthless at all,” Eleanor said. “Infamy is never kind.”

  Alana did not answer. Her uncle was infamous now. All of Scotland, and perhaps all of England, knew of the Earl of Buchan and his ruthless rage. For his young wife, Isabella of Fife, the Countess of Buchan, had betrayed him by crowning Bruce two years earlier at Scone. It was even said that she had been Bruce’s lover, and Bruce had gone to great lengths to keep her safe with his queen and daughter. But all the women of Bruce’s court had been captured by the English that summer. And now, Isabella was kept in a cage at Berwick, a spectacle for all the world to gawk at and scorn.

  The mighty Earl of Buchan did not care; in fact, he wanted her dead.

  A knock sounded on their door. Alana jumped as Eleanor opened it. Sir Roger nodded at them. “The earl wishes to see Mistress Alana,” he said.

  Alana’s anxiety spiraled uncomfortably. “Come with me,” she said to Eleanor, taking her hand.

  The two women followed Sir Roger down the narrow stairwell. Hard male voices could be heard from within the great hall. One was Duncan’s. The other had to belong to the great Earl of Buchan.

  They had reached the threshold. Alana faltered and stared.

  There was no mistaking the Earl of Buchan, and not because he was well dressed in the fashion of the French and English courts, his rings gold, the hilt of his sword bejeweled. Middle-aged and gray of hair, he emanated power and an air of command. He instantly turned to stare at them.

  “Lady Fitzhugh and Mistress le Latimer,” Sir Roger said, but informally.

  Buchan stood alone with Duncan, not far from one hearth. Her father was not with them.

  Buchan smiled. “So you are my niece.”

  Alana nodded and curtsied. “My lord.”

  Buchan paced over to her, his gaze filled with speculation. “I remember your mother, Mistress Alana. You so resemble her.” He spoke firmly, but not unpleasantly.

  Alana did not know what to say.

  “She was very beautiful. And you are from Brodie Castle? The place that was once your mother’s?”

  Alana nodded, her gaze glued to his. He did not seem ruthless. He seemed kind. “Brodie was my mother’s dowry, my lord.”

  “Yes. I recall that. But the circumstances of your birth prevented you from having a claim. Duncan tells me you are twenty, and unwed.”

  She so hoped the subject of witchcraft would not arise. “I am not wed.”

  “So my brother has forgotten you,” he said flatly.

  Oddly, she felt that sh
e must defend Sir Alexander. “He tried to arrange a marriage, some time ago.” She dared ask, “My father is not with you?”

  “He is on his way,” Buchan said. “But no marriage was arranged.”

  She felt certain she knew where he led. “No.”

  “Because no man wishes to wed a woman who can see the future?”

  She flinched. “No man wishes to marry a woman like myself.”

  “What do you mean, Mistress Alana? Speak plainly.”

  She felt her cheeks heat with shame. “I have the sight,” she whispered. “I am thought to be a witch.”

  He studied her in silence then. “So it is true,” he finally said. “You can foretell the future.”

  “Sometimes, my lord.”

  “Sometimes? So you have visions, sometimes? At will, Alana?”

  “No, they are never at will.” She hesitated, feeling desperate. “I wish I had no visions, my lord, but they began when I was a small child.”

  “How do you know that they are visions? Do they always come to pass?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “Yes, they always come to pass.”

  “Give me an example, Alana.”

  She did not dare glance at Eleanor. “Our kitchen maid was with child. I saw her in her childbed, the babe born alive, the poor maid dead. There was so much blood.”

  “And did the maid die in childbirth?”

  “Yes—exactly as I saw it.” She hugged herself. Poor Peg had died giving birth six months ago, but Alana had known she would die for months before that.

  “And now? Now you have seen battles from this war?” he asked thoughtfully.

  She froze, and then she glanced at Eleanor.

  “From time to time,” Eleanor said.

  “I didn’t ask you, Lady Fitzhugh,” Buchan said, but mildly.

  “I have had one vision of the war,” she breathed, and actually, that was the truth.

  “Ah, yes, Duncan tells me you saw a battle, and you first thought he was victorious, then had no thoughts at all. What did you see?”

  It was hard to breathe, impossible really. The earl’s stare was relentless. Eleanor’s advice echoed in her mind—do not displease him. “The vision was not clear,” she said. She dared a quick glance at Duncan—he was scowling.