Sir Bryan demonstrated what he wanted the boys to learn by riding his horse in a fenced ring. As he showed them the horse’s movement, he told them how to apply leg pressure and shift their weight in the saddle. Then Keifer and Donel would attempt the same manuevers, to varying degrees of success.
“Even if you never own a destrier such as these, you can train whatever horse you ride to respond to you without hesitation. Your horse’s willingness and abilty to do so can mean the difference between success and failure in a fight with other mounted men.”
Bryan related the story of their own King Robert who, while mounted on a small, well trained garron, had bested an English knight on a much larger destrier. The knight had couched his lance and raced toward the king and his smaller horse. Bruce’s mount had remained steady until given the command to swerve. At just the right moment, Bruce stood in the stirrups and brought his ax down on the man’s head, ending the encounter and the knight’s life.
Horsemanship was not Keifer’s strong point, but hearing stories such as this let him know he must master his fears, and so he applied himself. In time he came to enjoy working with the horses, and it showed. Indeed, Keifer became so proficient that Sir Bryan surprised him one day.
“Keifer, give your mount to Donel and come here.”
Keifer handed the reins to the other squire and walked to where Sir Bryan and his great destrier stood. The horse shook its head at Keifer’s approach, jingling the bit and looking as if it disagreed with whatever the man had in mind.
Sir Bryan said, “You’ve mastered the lesser horses, let’s see what you can do with Shadow.”
Keifer drew back. “But he will let only you mount him. He’ll throw me.”
“Aye, he would if you approached him without me near. But if I hold his head and give him permission, he will allow you to get on and will obey you.”
Keifer eyed the big horse and his stomach clenched. He fought his apprehension.
“Go on, you’ll be fine.”
With that assurance, Keifer determined to trust Sir Bryan’s confidence in him. He fixed the stirrup leathers to the proper length, took the reins, and climbed aboard. The war saddle cradled him with its high front and rear, designed to hold a man in the seat during battle.
“Are your stirrups all right?”
He flexed his legs, standing in the stirrups to ensure they were even. “Aye, sir.”
“Then take him for a walk around the arena.” Sir Bryan let go of the bridle.
Anticipating an explosion of action, Keifer clung to the pommel of the saddle. The great stallion stood deceptively docile, shifting its weight, obviously waiting for Keifer to let go of his death grip and signal it to move out.
“Go ahead,” Sir Bryan said. “Take him around the ring and make him respond to some simple commands.”
Keifer urged the horse into a walk, gaining confidence as the bit made contact with the horse’s mouth and the beast obeyed the cues.
When he nudged the stallion into a trot, Keifer soon realized how much horse he had under him. Within minutes his shoulders ached from the powerful animal’s pull on the snaffle bit.
At the canter, Keifer forced himself to relax and flow with the rocking motion, convinced he had harnessed the very wind—powerful and unpredictable. The horse tested him constantly, pushing his nose forward in an effort to take the bit, shying from the corners. But using his legs in the manner Sir Bryan had taught him, Keifer kept the horse steady and collected.
As Sir Bryan called out the manuevers Keifer had practiced on the other horses, Keifer gave the cue and the stallion responded. When he finally brought the horse to a halt in front of its master, Sir Bryan caught hold of the bridle and said, “Well done, both of you.”
He stroked the horse’s face and looked up at Keifer. “You handled him very well. You may begin to train the horse you brought with you in these manuevers.”
Keifer patted the stallion’s neck. “This one is a challenge, but worth the effort, sir. Thank you for allowing me to ride him.”
“You’re welcome. Once you master these commands, you’ll be ready to train on the quintain for the joust. Now, let’s see if Donel can do as well as you did.”
Donel couldn’t keep the stallion from taking the bit and shoving its head down. He ended up in the dirt when the horse put its head to its knees and bucked his hind legs toward the sky.
Donel picked himself up out of the dirt and walked toward Sir Bryan and Keifer, frowning. “I may need a few more lessons, my laird.”
Sir Bryan chuckled. “Aye, a few. Get back on and try again.”
Donel landed in the dirt several more times before he learned how to keep the horse’s head in the proper position. After a successful canter, Sir Bryan called him over, and Donel brought the horse to a halt and dismounted.
“Practice every day and soon you can learn to ride with a lance. Keifer, in light of your horsemanship, I’m naming you senior squire. You will come to me each morning for the day’s orders.”
With that, he dismissed them. Keifer and Donel cooled the horse and set about their other chores. As he worked, Keifer realized that although Sir Bryan was every bit as tough a taskmaster as Sir Adam had been, somehow Keifer didn’t resent Sir Bryan’s heavy hand the way he’d resented Adam’s.
Perhaps it hadn’t been Sir Adam’s fault. Maybe Keifer’s anger and resentment had been unfounded—a result of Keifer’s determination to become a knight. Or perhaps it was the title of foster father that had irked Keifer. He had no father of his own and resented another man taking on the position.
Aye, there was truth to that. Some of the anger would be better directed toward the man who had died when Keifer was only two. His father had not been there to encourage Keifer’s dreams. Keifer didn’t know who he was supposed to become because he didn’t know who he came from.
Adam Mackintosh hadn’t been trying to douse Keifer’s enthusiasm. Keifer could see now, with distance and time between them, that Adam had done nothing different than Sir Bryan. Keifer could see the results of both men’s training, could see that he was well ahead in every area of instruction.
Maybe, just maybe, he owed Sir Adam an apology.
WILL MACPHERSON was quite handsome and knew it. Nola thought him tall and well made. She could admire his pleasant features and rich brown hair and dark brown eyes and even admit he was charming on occasion. But try as she might, Nola couldn’t care for him the way she cared for Keifer. Will never passed up a chance to remind her he would one day inherit the lands and castle at Inversie, as well as leadership of his branch of Clan Macpherson.
If he told her once more how joining their holdings in marriage would create a wealthy alliance for their families, she thought she might run screaming all the way to Edinburgh.
Nola spent as much of her time at Inversie avoiding Will’s company as she did helping his mother with little Mary. He tried to steal a kiss and Nola let him, hoping he’d stop once she gave in. His lips were hard and demanding. Keifer’s had been gentle. Did hard kisses mean a man cared more? She hoped not, because she didn’t like Will’s kiss at all.
The day after her harp lesson, Will cornered her in the narrow walkway leading to the kitchen. Putting a hand on the wall to either side of her head, he grinned. “Come, Nola. Give me a kiss.”
“No. I told you the last time not to try this again.”
“It’s just a kiss. I want us to be betrothed,” he said. “Why do you object?”
“Will, I can’t accept a betrothal to you,” she said, growing cross with him.
He stood with his hands on his hips, his expression angry. “But I thought that’s why you were sent here to foster. So that we might know each other and perhaps come to an agreement.”
“I’m sure our parents hope for such a thing, Will. But I came to help your mother. Nothing more.” And have a change of scenery in hopes of curing her adventurous spirit. But if anything, her longing to get away had grown stronger than ever. She knew tha
t her next opportunity to travel would not come for another two years—for Keifer’s knighting ceremony. And she didn’t think she could remain at Inversie that long. She would have to speak to her mother the next time she went home to visit.
How could she make Will understand? “Tell me, Will. Do you ever long to see Edinburgh or Paris, or even Ireland?”
“No, not really. Should I?”
His answer didn’t surprise her. “So you would be happy to spend your entire life here in the glen.”
“Of course. What’s wrong with that?”
She sidled away from him. “Not a thing if it satisfies you. But I want more.”
He leaned against the wall again, trapping her, and she feared he would try to take another kiss. She ducked under his arm and moved a safe distance away.
He scowled. “Nola, traveling to far off places to see strange things and stranger people is a waste of time and coin. You just need to settle down with a husband and children of your own to keep you busy. You’ll see. We can make a home together.”
Nola dared not retort; the words on her lips were hurtful, and though she didn’t love Will, she didn’t want to hurt him either. But at this moment, Will’s narrow vision for his future spoke volumes about why she could never marry him. Why she hoped and dreamed that Keifer would wait for her.
Keifer. Her heart fluttered whenever she thought of him. How tall and strong he must be by now. And what would he think when he saw that she had become womanly in form? She kept her eyes from straying to her bodice, not wanting to draw Will’s attention there.
Not that she needed to—he stared at her far more often than she was comfortable.
“You are thinking of Keifer again, aren’t you? Why can’t you just forget him, Nola? If he cared at all about you, he would make an effort to come see you. Or at least write. You can be certain he has forgotten about you.”
But Will did not know of the two precious letters she had received from Keifer, telling her of his training. Two letters in two years, and none for almost ten months. Still, she could not believe that Keifer didn’t care. Despite Keifer’s avowal to remain a bachelor, Nola believed she could change his mind if she only had the chance.
The prospect of spending the next two years away from Keifer and in Will’s presence stretched before her endlessly. She prayed that she would soon be allowed to go home before Will spoke to her father and asked for her hand. Da wouldn’t force her to marry against her will, but her only excuse not to marry Will was Keifer. A weak hope at best. But before Nola had a chance to speak with her parents, Suisan Macpherson announced that she was expecting a baby. As her health was delicate, she was thankful to have Nola’s help. Nola could not desert the woman at such a time and so resigned herself to spending another year at Inversie.
But if Will tried to kiss her again, she would slap him until his eyes crossed. Immediately after that thought, Nola went to the chapel to pray for forgiveness. And while she confessed her shortcomings, she prayed for patience and for Lady Suisan’s good health as well.
EIGHT
Homelea, 1324
ONE MORNING THREE YEARS AFTER HIS ARRIVAL at Homelea, Keifer awoke to the sound of the nearby abbey’s bells ringing. That in itself wasn’t so unusual, as the bells were often used to signal news. But this was a jubilant cacophany beyond the norm. Keifer hurried through his morning ablutions and hurried to the hall to find out why the bells still rang after more than a quarter of an hour.
A messenger raced into the hall just behind Keifer and hurried to where Sir Bryan sat at the high table. The man gave his news, and Sir Bryan’s face broke out in jubilation. All eyes were on him, and everyone, even the servants, became quiet.
“Our queen has been delivered of twin sons!”
A son! A long-awaited heir to the throne. And a second boy in case one of them didn’t live past infancy. Surely God had blessed the king and his line with these children. Keifer prayed for the infants’ good health and long lives. Until now, Sir Bryan had been the king’s only son, but he’d not been born of either of Bruce’s marriages and thus could not assume the throne without a great deal of dissent among Bruce’s nobles.
The birth of a legitimate heir strengthened Bruce’s hold on the monarchy and gave promise that Scotland’s throne would not sit empty. It would also give the greedy English one less cause to come north again. As if Edward of England needed an excuse. The peace between the two countries was an uneasy one, with raids over the border a common thing.
Indeed, Keifer had heard there was fear that Edward, whose hold on his kingdom lessened with the passing of each year, would come north again with an army in an effort to prove that he was still in control. But in truth, Edward’s traitorous queen and her lover, Mortimer, were winning the loyalty of Edward’s nobles and eroding his power.
Keifer’s thoughts came back to the present. The infant princes could well mean the beginning of peace for his country. But if Edward marched north, Keifer would be ready for battle.
A WEEK LATER Sir Bryan sent for Keifer. He was cleaning his weapons, but he laid his sword aside and went to the man’s solar as instructed.
Sir Bryan indicated that Keifer should have a seat. When Keifer was settled, he said, “I have received word that your uncle Angus has petitioned Bruce to get his lands back.”
Keifer wasn’t surprised. “My sister warned that he would try that.
Was he successful?”
“No, the king denied him. Apparently Bruce doesn’t trust Angus to keep his word to be content with what he has. The king has ordered your cousin to be held in surety for your uncle’s good behavior.”
Keifer hated the thought that his cousin, a young man his same age, might be sent to prison for his father’s misdeeds. “Where will he be held?”
“Actually, he’s coming here. Tomorrow.”
“Here? To train as a knight?”
“Bruce didn’t want to send the boy to prison. The boy isn’t much of a threat now, and who knows how prison might change him.
Sending him to me gives the boy some freedom while still controlling the father. I can keep a watch on him and limit his activities.”
“I see.” Keifer hadn’t seen Owyn since they both were children. Wouldn’t recognize him in a crowd.
“The king hopes that you and Owyn might mend any differences and end the division of loyalties in your clan.”
“I guess that will depend on whether or not Owyn wants to be laird of clan Macnab.” A new thought struck him. “Does Owyn know I am here?”
“No. Your family has been very quiet as to your whereabouts. Using your mother’s family name has kept your identity a secret.”
“Still, I’ll watch my back until Owyn gives some proof of his intentions. Perhaps he and I can find a peaceable solution as to who should be laird.”
“Good idea.”
Sir Bryan then gave Keifer the day’s assignments and Keifer left for the stable.
Owyn Macnab arrived the next morning riding a small Scottish garron and wearing a bright smile. It was obvious the boy hadn’t been sent here to train as a knight. While Keifer’s physique showed promise of the strapping man he would one day become, Owyn was thin shouldered and wiry. And a good head shorter than Keifer. A swordsman’s physique, but not one to stand up to the heavy demands of mounted warfare.
While Donel showed Owyn where to put his things, Keifer kept his distance. Then Donel brought Owyn to be introduced.
Donel said, “Keifer MacTaggert is the head squire. You and I answer to him. Keifer MacTaggert, this is Owyn Macnab.”
Owyn lifted an eyebrow and Keifer wondered if the man had recognized the unusual first name. They had both changed in appearance in the years since they’d seen each other at Keifer’s father’s funeral. “Good to meet you, Owyn. Your training begins on the morrow.”
Keifer was prepared to dislike his cousin. As he readied his pallet that night, he recalled the day Uncle Angus had tried to kidnap him.
He
had been terrified, especially after his mother explained that Angus might very well have killed Keifer.
Owyn and Donel joined him in the hall. When Owyn rolled out his pallet, he jumped back and yelled, “What the . . . who put the frog in my bedding?”
Donel bent over laughing. It wasn’t hard to know the culprit.
Keifer laughed. “If you were a girl, Owyn, I’d say Donel likes you.”
Owyn advanced on Donel. He might be small, but Owyn didn’t back away from confrontation. “I’ll show ye—”
“Cease, Owyn. You are in no danger from Donel. He visits a lady friend in the village every chance he gets.”
Owyn lowered his fists and the frog croaked. Then Owyn grinned good-naturedly. “Donel, would ye be so kind as to escort my little friend here back to wherever ye found him?”
Smirking, Donel picked up the poor creature and left the hall, returning a few minutes later empty-handed. No one seemed tired, so they sat before the dying fire.
Over the course of the next several days, Keifer assessed his cousin’s worth. One afternoon they sat in the stable and cleaned their tack. As he rubbed the leather saddle with a damp cloth, Keifer said, “You seem uncomfortable giving orders, Owyn. How will you command men in battle?”
“I don’t expect I ever will, which is fine with me.”
Donel looked up. “What do you want to do then?
Owyn shrugged. “I’d be happy as a squire but . . .”
“But what?” Keifer was curious to know why someone would be a squire rather than a full-fledged knight.
“Ye know how fathers are. Mine has plans for me, and he doesn’t much care what I want.”
Keifer’s hands stilled and he forced his voice not to betray emotion. He didn’t know if he could trust Owyn. The man had seemed to recognize Keifer’s name but had not said as much. Innocence? Or treachery? “Actually, I don’t know. My father died when I was two.”
“Oh, well.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry to hear that. Maybe not all fathers are like mine. He was laird but supported England. That’s why I’m here, as surety for his behavior. He petitioned to get his lands back, the king denied him, and now Bruce wants to make sure that Da doesn’t switch his allegiance again.”
The Promise of Peace Page 10