The Promise of Peace

by Carol Umberger

  “That went surprisingly well.” Keifer urged his horse to a walk. The mare whinnied, unhappy at being separated. The stallion pawed the ground and snorted. Keifer needed to get out of the pen as fast as possible. But Owyn was busy tying up the mare. Keifer didn’t want to agitate the disappointed stallion by running his own horse toward the gate, so he walked slowly until Owyn returned.

  Keifer’s horse was within five feet of the the opening when Keifer heard the sound of the stallion running. He kicked his horse into a trot and Owyn prepared to open the gate. The stallion cantered around the pen, getting closer and closer to Keifer and his horse. The stallion headed toward them from the right. When the gate opened, it would open into the horse’s path and give Keifer a clear shot at the exit.

  Three more steps and they’d be there. The stallion slid to a halt inches from Keifer’s horse, bared his teeth, and lunged. Keifer gripped tightly, knowing his horse would shy from the bite. The gelding sidestepped successfully—the stallion’s teeth missed his horse. But Keifer screamed in pain as the strong teeth and jaws clamped instead around his right arm. Distantly, he heard bones crunch.

  The stallion released his grip just before Keifer would have been pulled from the saddle. Keifer and his horse shot through the gate and Owyn slammed it shut behind them.

  Keifer crawled down from his horse, cradling his throbbing arm against his chest. He prayed the sound he’d heard had not been his bones, but instead the glove.

  Owyn took the reins. “I’ll see to the horse. Go stick yer arm in cool water. When I’ve put up yer horse, I’ll fetch some cloth to make a sling.”

  As he walked to the hall, Keifer removed his gauntlet, allowing the glove to fall to the ground. He tried to wiggle his fingers and could not. The whole wrist and hand felt numb. When he reached the kitchen, he poured cool water into a basin before pulling back the sleeve of his tunic.

  The large, semi-circle of teeth marks was clearly visible on both the upper and lower sides of his forearm. Redness was quickly giving way to blue, which would no doubt become purple in a few hours.

  With relief he noted that the skin wasn’t broken. Now if the same could be said about the bones . . . Keifer placed a wet cloth on the injury, wishing he had ice instead. Still, the cool water took some of the sting away.

  Owyn came into the kitchen carrying Keifer’s discarded glove. “Let me see.”

  Keifer removed the cloth.

  Owyn whistled. “Ouch.” He held up Keifer’s riding glove, made of soft leather to allow greater flexibilty of the fingers. The sleeve of the glove was made stiff with whalebone and cuffed just above the wrist.

  The cuff of Keifer’s right glove showed teeth marks and hung limply, the whalebone useless. Keifer realized the bone that had snapped had indeed been in the glove, not his arm.

  When the steward inquired how Kiefer was injured, he said only that he’d been bitten. ’Twas the truth, and no more than the man needed to know. Time enough to deal with the episode when Sir Bryan and Lady Kathryn came home.

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE HORSE BIT KEIFER, Donel returned to Homelea and Keifer sent for him. But before he had a chance to talk with the other squire, Keifer’s benefactor and lady wife rode into the bailey. Half the surrounding countryside seemed to be there to welcome the lord and lady home. At least that’s how it appeared to Keifer’s disgruntled eyes.

  He dreaded telling Sir Bryan the story—didn’t want to get either Owyn or Donel in trouble. But they would have to own up to their deeds. Keifer spied Donel in the crowd. He jerked his head and indicated Donel should follow him so they might talk privately. But Donel shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t understand.

  Just then Sir Bryan saw Keifer and walked over to him, no doubt anxious for a report of the happenings during his absence. Bryan clasped Keifer’s right hand, and he winced.

  The knight pulled up Keifer’s sleeve. “Well, what have we here? A horse bite, from the looks of it.”

  “Aye. The bay stallion caught me.” Keifer hoped Donel would confess and free him from telling. It would go better for Donel if he did so. Keifer would not cover for him this time.

  Donel and Owyn stood close by. Sir Bryan looked at Donel, who stood with his head averted, then at Owyn, who was shifting from foot to foot. “I would like to hear all about it. Wait here. All of you.”

  Donel paced back and forth, running his hand through his hair. “I need ye, man,” he said to Keifer. “I cannot be dismissed. What will I do?”

  Keifer glanced from his friend to his lord, then shook his head.

  “This is out of my hands. You made a bad decision. Now you’ll need to own up and be accountable for your actions. I’m sorry, Donel.”

  The knight walked over to Lady Kathryn and spoke to her. She smiled at him and went into the hall. When Sir Bryan returned, he asked for an explanation.

  Keifer answered, “The stallion was released into the wrong pen.”

  “Who put the stallion in there?”

  Owyn said, “I did, my laird.”

  “Why?”

  “The mare was hidden by the hay rack. I didn’t know she was in there, and I thought it’s where he belonged.”

  “Why did you think that?” the knight demanded.

  Owyn bowed his head.

  Sir Bryan looked at each boy in turn. “Tell me the truth, Owyn. Loyalty to friends is an admirable trait, but this prank could have had serious consequences to my livestock. And Keifer suffered a grievous wound.”

  Donel said nothing.

  Keifer bent to Donel’s ear. “Tell him, or I will.”

  Donel, red-faced and scowling, admitted what he’d done. “I told Owyn where to put the stallion. ’Twas meant to be a jest, a prank and nothing more.”

  Sir Bryan pointed to Keifer’s injured arm. “Then you should have stayed for the fun. How did this happen, Keifer?”

  Keifer told them in as few words as possible.

  After hearing the tale, Sir Bryan scowled. “As head squire, you may mete out Owyn’s punishment, Keifer. You will inform me of your decision in the morning. Donel, come with me and help me with my chain mail. Keifer, have my wife take a look at that.”

  Keifer feared the knight would dismiss both Owyn and Donel. When the other boys came to the stable a quarter hour later, Keifer had still not decided on Owyn’s punishment. Donel was subdued. Owyn grabbed the other boy’s tunic and pulled him close. Donel was a good six inches taller, but Owyn appeared to barely notice. “If ye ever harm Keifer again, ye’ll answer to me.”

  “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt,” Donel said.

  “Maybe not. But this time ye went too far. Next time I’ll skewer ye on my sword.”

  Donel had the good sense not to make light of the threat, as Owyn’s swordsmanship had become second to none. “There won’t be a next time. I’ve been dismissed.”

  Donel gathered up his gear as Keifer exchanged glances with Owyn. “Dismissed?”

  “Aye, no thanks to either of you.”

  Keifer shook his head at Owyn to warn him to stay out of this. “Frogs in our beds were harmless enough. I even stood up for you when you convinced Owyn to climb the rope and caused him to fall.

  You brought this on yourself.”

  Donel brought his horse out of its stall and threw the saddle on its back.

  Keifer handed him his bridle. “Where will you go?”

  “Can’t go home. My father will not take me in again.”

  Owyn stood beside Keifer, looking unhappy. “Then what will ye do?”

  Donel finished bridling his horse. He turned to fasten his saddlebags to the back of the saddle. “Well, I certainly won’t be able to marry Sarah now that I have no means to support her.”

  He gave the strings that secured the bags a savage tug and grabbed the reins from Keifer’s hand. “Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me. I’ll find someone in need of my services.”

  Glaring over his shoulder at Keifer, Donel said, “Some laird you’ll make if
you won’t stand up for your men.”

  For a brief moment, Keifer allowed himself to feel guilty. But again he reminded himself that Donel had probably sealed his fate when he hadn’t confessed without coercion. “I’m sorry you see it that way, Donel.”

  “I won’t soon forget what you did this day. You are no friend to me, Keifer MacTaggert.”

  Keifer and Owyn watched as Donel mounted and rode out of Homelea’s gate.

  “Ye’d best watch yer back, Cousin.”

  Keifer turned from watching Donel’s vanishing back to stare at Owyn.

  Owyn shrugged. “I’ve heard my da speak of Eveleen MacTaggert often enough. And ye look like my da—it wasn’t hard to make the connection.”

  “I’ve wondered if you didn’t suspect it. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Didn’t think it was important.”

  Keifer didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “Until I met you, I thought you and your father still coveted my lands.”

  “I don’t want them, and I mean it. I’m a simple man, Keifer. I am happy to serve others, to serve ye, if ye’ll have me.”

  Keifer had no reason not to believe Owyn. Still, he hesitated.

  Owyn held out his dirk, the blade glinting in the firelight. “Keifer, I need to do this. My father is wrong. He isn’t interested in what’s best for his son or the clan. Ye will make a far better laird than I ever would.”

  Owyn had shown himself to be a good friend and amiable companion. Could Keifer trust him? He thought so. “I almost envy you, Owyn.”

  “Ye don’t want to be laird either?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Why indeed? “Duty. To honor my father’s memory. To keep my family safe.”

  “I am determined to swear my loyalty to ye, to promise to protect ye.”

  “You would go against your own father?”

  “Aye.”

  Was taking Owyn’s pledge going to further that goal or hasten trouble? He looked his friend in the eye and could not believe he would do Keifer harm. God help him if he was wrong.

  Keifer nodded. “All right. I accept your allegiance.” He handed the dirk back to Owyn.

  Owyn kissed the blade. “I swear my loyalty to ye, Keifer Macnab.

  May this very knife pierce my heart if I dishonor my oath.”

  “So be it. And I pray for your deliverance when your father finds out what you’ve done this day, Owyn Macnab.”

  TEN

  Homelea 1326

  AT LAST THE TIME CAME for Keifer to be knighted. Nola was delighted when her father agreed to take her to Homelea for the celebration. In fact, the whole family would make the trip. And Adam invited Will Macpherson to accompany them.

  Will had been pressing her to let him ask her father for her hand, but while he had managed to needle his way into her heart, again she put him off. The promise she’d made to Keifer remained closer still. Was there any hope?

  Nola was determined to enjoy the time away from the glen and to not obsess on Will’s pressing ways or the worry over Keifer. The trip seemed to take much longer than her earlier one, not only because of Will’s presence, but because Nola was anxious to see Keifer again. She was anxious for him to see that she was no longer a child.

  She caught Will staring at her bosom—he had certainly noticed the changes. And if he mentioned his desire for a betrothal one more time, she would forbid him to speak with her!

  Will had changed since his mother died. It seemed that without her hand to gentle him, his arrogance went unchecked. Will’s father had all he could do to care for his land and tenants, and precious little time to deal with his son. Still, Nola had to admire Will’s brash ways, his confidence. And he made her feel wanted and constantly admired. Yet she worried that all the good things she saw in him would fade once he had her at his side for good. Will was a conqueror by habit, not a partner.

  Nola no longer lived with the Macphersons at Inversie, but she went there once or twice a week to help with Mary. Nola loved the little girl and grieved for Suisan and the child that had died within weeks of its birth. This journey to Homelea came as a much-needed respite from caring for others. For once Nola planned to selfishly look to her own interests.

  When they arrived at Homelea at last, the place bustled with guests. Sir Bryan came to meet them in the bailey and gave orders for their horses to be tended. As her father greeted Sir Bryan, Nola scanned the busy courtyard for Keifer. Her father drew her forward.

  “You remember my daughter, Nola.”

  Nola brought her attention back to her father and the handsome man she’d met on her earlier trip to Homelea.

  “You’ve become a lovely young woman, just as I predicted,” the earl said as he took her hand. She dipped a curtsy.

  “And this is our neighbor, Will Macpherson. He and Nola and Keifer grew up together. Will’s father and I thought it would be good for him to see some of the country.”

  Nola bit her tongue. She’d had to beg to get her father to bring her along. Yet he invited Will because it would be good for him to see some of the world.

  “So, where is our knight to be?” Adam asked.

  “He is in the village, helping with the preparations. Come, Adam, Will. We’ll go fetch him.”

  Disappointed that she hadn’t been included in Sir Bryan’s invitation, Nola joined her mother as Lady Kathryn ushered them, along with her younger brothers, into the hall. Nola and her family would remain here as guests. Most of the other guests would have to stay in tents in the village. Nola waited anxiously for her father and Will to return, knowing Keifer might be with them.

  THERE WAS MUCH WORK TO BE DONE in preparation for the ceremony that would take place tomorrow at the abbey. Keifer was assigned to set up tents on the outskirts of the village of Homelea. That’s where Sir Bryan and his guests found Keifer near the end of the day.

  As Sir Bryan and Adam Mackintosh walked toward him, Keifer noted Will Macpherson was with them but Nola was not. Keifer was disappointed—perhaps she hadn’t come with them from Moy. Adam clapped his hand on Keifer’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Son. You remember Will.”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Nola and I welcomed the opportunity to see you, old friend,” Will said, reaching out his hand. Keifer didn’t much care for the proprietary tone of Will Macpherson’s voice when he said Nola’s name. Nor his assumption of friendship. But he took the man’s hand and looked him over, as a knight sizing up his competition. Competition? What was this roiling through him?

  “Aye. My daughter is back with the women, Keifer.” Adam smiled.

  Keifer couldn’t wait to see her but kept it to himself. And something in Adam’s voice didn’t ring true either. What was going on here? “If you will wait a few more minutes, I’ll be finished and can accompany you back to Homelea.”

  Sir Bryan said, “Take your time. I’ll show our guests the lay of the grounds.”

  They tied their horses under some shade trees, and Keifer continued to set up the tent he’d been working on. He had completed his work and was sitting under the shade with the horses when the others returned. As the sun began to set, the four men rode to the castle.

  Sir Bryan and Adam rode side by side, as did Keifer and Will behind them. The two men in front engaged in conversation. Hoping Will would speak of Nola, Keifer asked, “How was the journey?”

  “Uneventful.” Then quietly Will added, “You will learn soon enough that I have been courting Nola.”

  That Will would court her didn’t surprise Keifer. What would surprise him is if she encouraged him. “How goes your suit?” Keifer asked. He just couldn’t picture Nola with Will, yet she could very well have changed in four years. Changes Keifer wouldn’t know of from her letters.

  “I hope to seal our betrothal when we return home.”

  Keifer’s heart pounded. Nola and Will were as good as betrothed.

  Could he have misheard?

  Kei
fer calmed himself and did not speak further. Much could happen in four years—perhaps she truly cared for Will. Hadn’t he thought as much?

  Still, she’d promised not to give her heart before seeing Keifer again. He expected her to hold true to that vow, if for no other reason than out of the depth of their friendship.

  When he saw Nola, he would not act in an unseemly manner, hovering about another man’s betrothed. By the time they reached Homelea, he had his emotions firmly under control. He hadn’t spent the past four years training for battle for nothing. But he would find out the truth of the matter.

  OWYN WOULD NOT BE KNIGHTED—he had decided to remain a squire—Keifer’s squire. The position suited him. And unlike Keifer, Owyn had no sponsor, no one to provide his weapons and horses.

  Owyn walked to the church yard where he had agreed to meet his father. As a young boy, Owyn had spent three lonely years waiting for his father to be released from Bruce’s prison. His mother had died, and Owyn longed for the company of his remaining parent. When Angus had come home, Owyn tried to listen to him, to understand him. But the old man had left prison near desperate for Eveleen Macnab to forgive him, and for the life of him, Owyn couldn’t figure out why his father couldn’t move on.

  Apparently Angus had come to Homelea for the festivities. He had sent a message to Owyn, asking to meet with him. Today was the first chance Owyn had to get away. He walked through the yard to the cemetery behind the church.

  The older man stood by a grave marker looking hale and hearty, belying his years. “Father. Ye are looking fit.”

  “Aye. Never better despite some disturbing news.”

  More disturbing than having his lands and title taken from him? Owyn’s inheritance. An inheritance Owyn didn’t want. “What is it, then?”

  “Eveleen has married another.”

  “What?” Owyn wanted to feel sorry for his father, but he just couldn’t. It seemed no sooner had Owyn’s mother died but Angus had set his sights on marrying his brother’s widow. Owyn feared Angus might not listen to reason. Nearly twenty years had passed, and still he obsessed over the woman.