TWO LAIRDS ONE LADY

by John Ryan

  “Nae!” she cried out as she sprung up in her bed. Sweat dampened her brow and she trembled uncontrollably.

  In moments, Graham barreled through the door.

  “Elspeth! Elspeth! What’s wrong?” he cried frantically as he rushed to her bedside.

  Spying her brother’s pained expression, Elspeth sought to ease his anxieties anon.

  “Graham, I’m all right. Forgive me, ‘twas merely a bad dream,” Elspeth murmured apologetically.

  “Please dinna apologize. I’m just very grateful ‘twas just a dream. I dinna wish to ever go through the nightmare of losing ye again,” Graham comforted in a whisper.

  “Graham?” Elspeth inquired softly.

  “Aye?”

  “‘Twas a truly terrible dream. Thayer was stuck dead by an arrow fired by Lord Devlin. Do ye think this means Thayer is in any danger?”

  “Nae, dear sister. Lord Devlin is dead. Methinks the arrow to Thayer’s heart was shot by Eros, the god of love. Mayhap he is the one who has pierced Thayer’s heart, not Lord Devlin.”

  “What the devil would I do without ye, Graham? And what could I ever do to thank ye for being there for me?” She brushed as tender kiss on his cheek.

  “Truly, I dinna ken, Elspeth,” Graham replied as a wry smile curled his lips. “Mayhap, ye could talk to Orla for me. I dinna ken if she still fancies me.”

  “Graham, if she doesn’t, she would be the most foolish girl in all of Scotland.”

  “I dinna ken about that,” Graham replied with a laugh, “but if she’ll have me, mayhap ye won’t be the only Mourney lucky in love.”

  With a playful tussle of her tresses, Graham bounded away from her bedside and stole out of the room, laughter in his aftermath.

  Elspeth smiled as she smoothed her mussed , errant locks and snuggled under the pelts, tugging them up to her chin. As always, Graham’s assurances had displaced her fears. A gentle sigh escaped her as she drifted into a peaceful slumber. Tonight, she would sleep well.

  With a gentle hoot, the owl took from his perch outside the window and melted into the evening mist.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Sir William, what should we do about the Stone in the tower?” Thayer posed as he gazed up at the hulking structure.

  “Well, the secret is still safe. Am I not right, Thayer? Ye would never tell anyone of its whereabouts,” Sir William replied, folding his brawny arms across his chest.

  “Well...”

  Narrowing his steely gaze on Thayer, Sir William’s face reddened, his glower casting heated daggers at him.

  “Ye mean to tell me that ye have revealed its hiding place?” Sir William demanded angrily.

  “During me journey to Edinburgh, I exposed it to Elspeth,” Thayer confessed, vigilant not to mention his uncle’s role in the telling.

  “Why would ye do a daft thing like that, Thayer?” Sir William chided, his voice dripping with incredulousness.

  “William, Elspeth is to become me wife. There are no secrets between us,” Thayer offered.

  “Och! Felled by a comely lass, as always! Very well. But does she ken this is a secret that could cost her life?”

  “Dinna worry, William. I would slay an entire army if they endeavored to harm a hair upon her head. They would suffer the same fate as Lord Devlin.”

  “Very well, then on the morrow, we will move the Stone,” Sir William said. “By the way, I could surely venture a guess, but what exactly happened to Devlin? And where is he?”

  Extending his finger to the upper floors of the tower, Thayer offered, “I slew him. His body lies yon, in the tower.”

  Sir William nodded and, spying a tall, gangly soldier casually ambling across the courtyard, called out to him.

  “Ye there! Ye seem to be in want of a duty to perform. Come here, post haste. I have a task for ye.”

  The soldier rushed to Sir William’s side and offered, “Aye, Sir William. Amos McGee at your disposal. What is it ye would have me do?”

  Lifting his gaze toward the upper part of the tower, Sir William responded, “Disposal? Aye, that is precisely what I need ye to attend to.”

  His brows knitting in confusion, the young soldier said, “Forgive me, but I dinna understand your orders, Sir William.”

  “In the top floor of the tower lies the body of Lord Devlin. I want ye to fetch it and bury it outside these gates. I dinna wish to have his wretched carcass polluting these fine grounds.”

  “Aye, Sir William, I will take care of it at once,” the young soldier avowed with a bow.

  Acknowledging Amos’ gesture with a wink, Sir William offered, “Come, Thayer, let this young lad take out that trash. We have more pressing concerns to attend to.”

  As Amos watched Thayer and Sir William stride away, he warily dragged his gaze toward the looming tower. With a sigh, he entered the inky stairway.

  “Take out the trash,” Amos muttered under his breath as he ascended the stairway. “Plainly, they dinna ken that I am to be one of the greatest warriors in all of Scotland someday. They’ll see!”

  Spying the chambers at the top of the stairs, he huffed with relief, “Good, there it is! The faster I get this done, the faster I can find some ale and take a well deserved breather.”

  Cautiously slipping into the chamber with his sword drawn, Amos spied the prone body of Lord Devlin.

  Grateful for finding his quarry so quickly, Amos made the sign of the cross and looked heavenward. His eyes darted about the room before resting on the half-filled steins of ale left on the table by Sir Rhoenne, Elspeth, and Graham.

  “Ahh! Now that is precisely what I require.”

  Sheathing his sword, Amos strode eagerly toward the table. As he stepped over Lord Devlin’s body, his ankle was suddenly seized by the seemingly dead man.

  “Ahh, I’ve got you!” Lord Devlin exclaimed triumphantly as he dragged Amos down and sat astride him with a dirk held to his throat.

  “But...but...they said ye were dead!” Amos insisted, his voice faltering.

  “I beg to differ. Now, draw your sword and toss it aside like a good lad.”

  His eyes wide with terror, Amos complied immediately.

  “Good. Now, I have something you must do for me,” Lord Devlin insisted. “Do you see that cell in the corner of the room? I will spare your life if you’ll perform but one task for me.”

  “W-what is it?” Amos replied nervously.

  “Come and I will show you.” Lord Devlin stood up and held the dagger close to Amos’ side.

  Leaving a trail form the blood which dribbled from the wound in his chest, he ushered Amos to the cell, painfully prodding him with the sharp tip of the dirk.

  “I want you to remove this stone on the floor. Here, in the center. The one that has been dusted off,” Lord Devlin demanded as he motioned to the floor.

  Kneeling down, Amos began to use his fingers to gouge the dirt from the sides of the stone.

  “This will take a lifetime, if I dinna have a tool to help me dig,” Amos complained nervously.

  “Very well, take this,” Lord Devlin replied as he handed Amos Elspeth’s ivory comb.

  “What the devil can I do with this?” Amos asked incredulously as he studied the comb.

  “Pull back on the hilt,” Lord Devlin replied.

  Amos’ eyes widened with wonder as he tugged gently, exposing the glimmering blade.

  “And, if you so much as make a false move, I will slay you where you stand,” Lord Devlin warned with a snarl.

  Digging feverishly at the earth around the stone, Amos made quick headway.

  “Lord Devlin, I think mayhap ‘tis ready to be pried. But I canna do it meself. I will require your aid,” Amos petitioned cautiously.

  With a distrustful glare, Lord Devlin warned, “If you make but one move in my direction, Scot, I will cut out your heart.”

  Lord Devlin bent nearer to the ground, placing the dirk in his mouth. His crooked teeth gripped the blade in a vise-like grip. With grunts and gro
ans, the two men strived to pry the heavy stone from the floor. Amos’ side gave way first. Working the stone back and forth, the heavy tile soon relinquished its grip on the cold earth floor. Sitting back on his rump, Lord Devlin winced in pain as he wiped the sweat from his brow and, returning the dirk to his other hand, he ran his fingers along the wound in his side.

  “Now, lift it clear away and step back from the hole.”

  Amos complied, his eyes nervously darting from the hole to Lord Devlin’s face.

  Peering into the hole, Lord Devlin demanded, “Give me your Tartan!”

  Amos uncoiled the plaid from around his lanky torso and handed it to Lord Devlin.

  “Look away!” Lord Devlin roared as he spied Amos peering into the hole. “Just sit on that chair and remain silent.”

  Reaching into the dark space, Lord Devlin curled his bony fingers around the smooth, shimmery, fist-sized emerald stone which lay entombed there. Cupping it in his hand, he quickly wound the tartan tightly around it, concealing it.

  “Good to my word, I will spare you.” He backed out of the cell and slammed the door behind him.

  Cautiously, Lord Devlin slipped out of the room and into the hall. Now that he was beyond Amos’ view, he unwound the tartan and stuffed the stone deep into his tunic. Wrapping the plaid around his body, he lifted a serving tray and peered at his reflection. It wasn’t much of a disguise, he acknowledged, but in all the confusion of the night, perhaps he could slip away unnoticed.

  Wincing in pain, he descended the steps in haste. With an oath, he slipped out of the tower unnoticed. He was that much closer to freedom.

  ***

  Directing Thayer’s attention to the gate, Sir William suggested, “I ken ye are weary from battle, Thayer. But I require that ye oversee these men as they repair the castle entry. It is our first line of defense and I trust ye will ensure that the work is done properly. I dinna require ye to aid them; just direct them. I think ye need to save your strength for other things.”

  Lifting an incredulous brow, Thayer asked, “Other things, William? Do ye mean to send me into battle already?”

  A wry smile twisting his lips, Sir William replied, “Nae, I think ye will need your strength to tame that young lass of yours. With those fiery tresses and plentiful curves, I recognize her as a Mourney. I ken her father as well. He is a good man, and fiercely protective of his daughter. Ye do best to watch yourself.”

  “Sound advice, I’m sure, William,” Thayer agreed with a laugh. “But there is no need to worry about me. I intend to treat Elspeth as a queen.”

  “Aye, a queen.” Sir William laughed. “Forsooth, a queen of hearts,” he added with a generous slap on Thayer’s back. “Now, I must take me leave of ye. I will see ye on the morrow.”

  “Good night, William,” Thayer responded as he gripped William’s hand in a firm shake. “On the morrow then.”

  Thayer watched as William’s form faded into the mist. A weary sigh escaping him, he returned his attention to the men at the gate. Approaching the most heavily damaged section of the entry, Thayer noticed one particularly gangly soldier idling nearby.

  Before he could summon him, a disembodied voice shouted from the haze.

  “Thayer, my son. I just ran into Sir William. It seems as though mayhap ye could use an extra hand,” Sir Rhoenne offered as he emerged from the fog.

  “Or two,” Graham added, sporting a huge grin and following in his wake.

  “Ah, Sir Rhoenne, Graham!” Thayer exclaimed agreeably, extending his hand to both men. “Ye are truly a sight for me sore eyes. But ‘tis late. Are ye not weary from your confinement?”

  “Weary? Mayhap. But we were forced to do naught whilst we waited to be hung by that miserable cur, Lord Devlin. ‘Tis high time we used these achy muscles,” Graham replied.

  “Very well, then. Welcome aboard!” Thayer decreed, beaming. “Now, let’s start by seeing to it that every one of these men has a job to do.”

  Redirecting his gaze to the tall, idle soldier with the ill-fitting tartan, Thayer cried out, “Ye there, what is the task ye have been allotted to perform?”

  Lord Devlin’s blood ran cold as he recognized the deep resonance of Thayer’s voice. Ignoring his question, he warily inched closer to a bow and quiver of arrows which were propped against a stone nearby.

  “Soldier! I said, what task have ye been assigned?” Thayer demanded anew as he neared.

  Mumbling unintelligibly, Lord Devlin crouched beside the bow. Quickly snatching it from the ground, he grabbed an arrow with his free hand and let loose a bolt toward Thayer’s hulking form, only a dozen paces away.

  Graham sprung from behind Thayer, his sword slashing the air. An instant from striking Thayer’s chest, the arrow fell to the ground, neatly cloven in two. At the same time, Sir Rhoenne appeared behind Lord Devlin. Before he could launch another arrow, he dispatched Lord Devlin, severing his head from his body with one mighty stroke of his gleaming claymore.

  Thayer, breathing heavily, whirled around to face his saviors. Grinning widely, he acknowledged them with a grateful bow.

  “Well, mayhap we were a bit hasty in declaring this bloody oaf dead!” Sir Rhoenne quipped as he cleaned the blood from his sword with Lord Devlin’s pilfered tartan.

  “Aye, Sir Rhoenne,” Thayer acknowledged with a lopsided grin, “but I suspect he will not return this time, unless he comes back as a ghost!”

  The three burst into hearty guffaws as the soldiers toiling nearby rushed belatedly to their sides.

  “It’s okay, men,” Graham declared proudly, “we have taken care of our little problem. Now, let’s get back to work.”

  Bewildered by the nature of what had just transpired, the men shuffled slowly away, their gazes dragged from the headless corpse.

  “What is this?” Graham exclaimed as he stopped down to pick up a glinting object which had caught his eye.

  Thayer and Sir Rhoenne watched in stunned silence as Graham lifted the Stone of Destiny aloft.

  “Put that away, son!”Sir Rhoenne brusquely demanded as he tore a piece of his plaid to coil around the Stone.

  “That bloody whoreson found the Stone!” Thayer proclaimed in disbelief. “I cannot believe it! How the devil could he have known where it was?”

  Recalling his taunting words to Lord Devlin’s “lifeless” corpse, Graham stammered, “I...I…have no idea.”

  Tucking the stone deep in his tunic, Sir Rhoenne lifted his weary eyes to Thayer and murmured, “We will have to move the Stone to somewhere safe for the time being. I will speak to Sir William about it on the morrow. I must clear it with King John, but I already have an idea where it should rest henceforth.”

  “Where is that, pray tell?” Thayer asked.

  Looking left, then right, to confirm that no one was within earshot, he replied, “When ye wed me daughter, I will bestow upon ye the fiefdom of Tantallon. The fortress lies three miles east of North Berwick. ‘Tis a secure and fitting place for ye, Elspeth, and me grandchildren to live. The castle is of the highest quality and will afford ye an unobstructed view of the Firth of Forth. There, no one will be able to approach ye undetected. And ye will be close enough to Dirleton for Lady Fiona and me to see our daughter and grandchildren often.”

  Acknowledging the earl’s generous offer, Thayer bowed deeply before him.

  Watching the exchange with deep satisfaction, a brilliant grin flashed across Graham’s face.

  “And, to the matter at hand, what shall we do with this vermin?” Graham asked the pair, gesturing toward Lord Devlin’s headless corpse.

  “Come, let me assist ye, brother,” Thayer offered as he grabbed Lord Devlin’s body by the ankles. “We can bury him over yon,” he said, motioning with his chin to an outcrop of pine trees nearby. Without hesitation, Thayer and Graham dragged Lord Devlin’s body outside the city gates and began digging a grave.

  Patting the last shovelful of dirt atop the shallow crypt, Thayer remarked, “Mayhap, now that our little distracti
on has been taken care of, we can all go back to work. The only thing I fear now is telling Elspeth about Devlin. She’ll surely give me a devil of a time for being so careless.”

  Graham replied, “Well, I’ll leave that to ye, Thayer. She is your responsibility now.”

  Watching as Graham sauntered away with laughter in his wake, Thayer mused, Now, that’s a duty I look forward to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Slowly stirring from her restful slumber, Elspeth gasped aloud as she sensed someone in her room.

  “Relax, m’dear, ‘tis merely I,” Sir Rhoenne assured from the corner of the room.

  “Da” Elspeth replied gleefully, a sigh of relief escaping her. Propping herself up on her elbows, she bid, “Good morning, Father. Are ye feeling better?”

  “Right as rain, m’dear,” he replied with a smile as he strolled over to her window and gazed out over his lush, newly recaptured Realm.

  “I have offered your Thayer the fief of Tantallon. He seemed most appreciative.”

  Elspeth sprung from the bed and leapt into her father’s arms.

  “Oh, Da, ye are the most wonderful father in the whole world!” she trilled as she planted a kiss on his ruddy cheek.

  Brushing an errant crimson ringlet from the front of her eyes, he replied, “I am very happy that ye two have found favor in each other, Elspeth. And I see the way ye look upon him. If ye say he is the one for ye, then I will welcome him with open arms. I must confess, I like him very much. And I feel there is naught he would not do for ye.”

  Pausing reflectively, he added, “Elspeth, I haven’t had time to speak with your mother but I understand she has met Thayer. What is her opinion him?”

  “She regards him very highly, I am happy to say” Elspeth declared giddily.

  “Well, then she will be very pleased to ken that ye both shall live at Tantallon. And, now that the English have retreated, mayhap we will be able to see ye more often, especially when the bairn arrives.”