“Good.” He tugged on her hand and she leaned closer, bracing her hands on the arms of the chair. They kissed; a kiss of forgiveness that quickly warmed into one of promise.
Nola pulled away. “I promise to give you a new favor to wear, Husband.”
“I promise to wear it until I die, Nola.”
All was forgiven, forgotten, turned over to God. Together they would face tomorrow, man and wife as God had ordained from days gone by.
KEIFER AND NOLA remained at Homelea, postponing travel to Innishewan until such time as Keifer regained more of his strength. With each passing day, his back healed and feeling returned to his legs. Adam and Will left for Moy with the promise to bring Nola’s mother and siblings to Innishewan in the spring.
A fortnight later they were sitting in Homelea’s rose garden when they heard the commotion of horses’ hooves in the bailey. With the crutches Owyn had fashioned for him and Nola’s help, Keifer stood. He had improved to the point where he could swing both legs together and put his weight on them. He followed Nola slowly to the front of the castle. As they rounded the corner, the abbey bells began to peal in the distance.
Lady Kathryn and others came running into the bailey from the castle and the outbuildings as Bryan halted his horse and dismounted. He’d been with the king for nearly a week.
Nola clutched Keifer’s arm. “What on earth has happened?” she asked, her voice echoing Keifer’s fear.
Not war. Not again, Lord.
Sir Bryan strode toward them, grinning like a boy who’d just stolen his first kiss. “The English have sued for peace!” Bryan shouted as he embraced Kathryn and lifted her off her feet.
“Peace?” Lady Kathryn breathed and several others echoed.
Bryan set her back on the ground. “Aye. My brilliant sire has succeeded in bringing England to terms.”
Everyone now crowded around Sir Bryan, anxious to hear more. The knight lifted his gaze to see Keifer, and he smiled broadly, pushing his way to stand in front of him. “Well, now. Seeing you upright is even better than my news.”
Keifer waggled a crutch. “These are temporary, my laird. I plan to get rid of them in the coming days. But tell us more—what are the terms?”
Bryan spoke as his wife gently guided him into the hall and urged him to sit. Soon servants brought food and drink, and after a long pull from a tankard, Sir Bryan answered their many questions.
“The terms are non-negotiable. Our king is firm in his resolve to have the kingdom of Scotland free and clear to himself and his heirs forever, without any homage to anyone other than God.”
“He has certainly earned that right!” Keifer declared.
Bryan agreed. “His son David will marry Edward’s sister, Joan.”
“They are but wee children!” Lady Kathryn exclaimed.
“Aye. Nevertheless, the marriage will take place next summer. Bruce wants this agreement sealed in a way that Edward must honor.”
Keifer nodded. Too much blood had been shed on both sides to settle for less.
Bryan continued. “Robert insists that the English king should use his influence to persuade the pope to lift the interdict from Scotland and from Bruce himself.”
“And Edward has agreed?” Nola asked, obviously incredulous.
“Aye.”
“It is done, then,” Keifer said in wonder.
“Done!” Nola cried, hugging him close.
Freedom at last.
TEN MONTHS LATER Adam Mackintosh stood with his wife Gwenyth as they awaited the bridal procession of the future queen of Scotland. Robert the Bruce’s four-year-old son waited on the steps of the church for his seven-year-old bride, Joan Plantagenet, sister of Edward III of England.
For a moment, Adam remembered the day he had married the woman at his side. Actually, he remembered all three times he and Gwenyth had exchanged vows. He smiled. She had been hard to convince but well worth the effort.
He fingered the ring on his left hand, the one that matched his wife’s. He and Gwenyth had once been enemies, just as David and Joan’s families were. Peace and prosperity now reigned at Moy, and in a few short months, he and Gwenyth would become grandparents.
He glanced at Gwenyth and saw that her gaze was on the little prince. The boy hopped up and down and his half brother, Bryan Mackintosh, knelt down to speak quietly with the child.
Gwenyth took Adam’s hand and drew him close. “Poor lad. His childhood is being snatched away from him.”
“Aye. But this marriage is our only hope of holding the bride’s brother to the treaty he signed. A betrothal is too easily broken.”
“As are treaties, especially those with England.” Gwenyth sighed. “We must pray that our countries and this marriage will be spared the turmoil of our generation.”
Adam also hoped that these children would be spared, but before he could say as much, trumpets sounded, announcing the bride. Adam watched as a half dozen young girls followed the trumpeters, walking down the pathway and strewing flower petals from willow baskets.
Then came Joan herself, mounted on a prancing white pony and looking regal despite her tender years. Joan’s mother, the dowager Queen Isobella, and Isobella’s companion, Mortimer, rode just behind the princess.
Adam had attended the royal wedding of the ill-fated Marjorie Bruce some dozen or so years ago, and he watched as the familiar pageantry unfolded. The princess’s pony was led to the steps of the church, where Bryan helped her to dismount.
Then the bride and groom, so young and full of promise, faced each other. Without prompting, David took the girl’s hand as Bryan read the terms of the marriage contract. Joan’s dowry was nothing less than the kingdom of Scotland, given over at last to her new father-in-law by way of her husband.
BRYAN FINISHED READING THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT and presented the parchment to the priest. The wedding party and family members then entered the church for the consecration of the vows. As David and Joan knelt before the altar, Bryan walked over to his wife, Kathryn, who was standing in the first row.
She smiled up at him, and her expression reminded him that, like David and Joan, he and Kathryn had had little choice in their marriage. Bryan just prayed that the two who took vows this day would be as blessed as he and his wife had been.
When the priest pronounced the prince and princess as man and wife, Kathryn placed her hand on the enameled white rose she wore fastened to her shawl. Bryan had commissioned a silversmith to create the piece of jewelry for his wife to remember the peace offering he’d once given her from Homelea’s garden. From that beginning they had forged a life together.
Now, after years of war, destruction, and death, Scotland stood on the brink of peace. Many men on both sides had given their lives or returned home wounded and maimed.
The priest’s prayer broke into Bryan’s dark thoughts. “Oh, Lord of Heaven, we ask that you would create from these two a single mind and purpose. And further, that you would form your faithful people in both England and Scotland into a single will. A will for peace. Make us love what you command and desire what you promise. Remind us that amid all the changes of this world, we should fix our hearts where true love and joy are found: in your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord. Amen.”
Bryan added a heartfelt “Amen” as the bridal couple faced the audience to accept felicitations.
Kathryn’s daughter Isobel moved forward, and Bryan took Kathryn’s elbow to follow. Isobel, the illegitimate daughter of Bryan’s one-time enemy, had grown into a beauty. She had also become the daughter of Bryan’s heart. Although he and Kathryn had three other children, Bryan and Isobel shared a special affinity because of the shared circumstances of their births.
Having congratulated the solemn couple, Bryan led his family to the church door. “You go ahead to the pavilion—I must accompany David and his bride.”
Kathryn said, “’Tis a shame your father cannot be here to perform that duty.”
“Aye. But Edward of England chose not to att
end as well. ’Tis probably for the best, as I’m not sure they could have spoken civilly to each other.”
Kathryn smiled. “King Robert could charm a smile from a stone, Bryan. Nevertheless, your point is well taken. Come, Isobel. We will wait for your father as he asked.”
KEIFER MACNAB leaned on his cane beneath the shade of an old oak tree. Although he still limped and relied on the cane for balance, he was far from the hopeless cripple he had once imagined. He shuddered when he remembered how close he’d come to succumbing to the darkness.
But here he stood in the town of Berwick, gathered with his family and friends to celebrate the marriage of David Bruce and Joan Plantagenet. These two young children held the promise of peace for their respective countries. Keifer prayed for God’s intervention in their lives—that genuine love might form between them as they grew up—much like it had between Keifer and Nola.
It seemed that all the nobility and half the peasant population of Scotland had been invited to the celebration. Robert the Bruce had spared no expense on the lavish wedding feast, even going so far as to purchase clothes for the guests to wear.
Children of various ages—including Keifer’s nieces and nephews—darted among the guests as they played tag and blind man’s bluff under the watchful eyes of their mothers. ’Twas a restful, pastoral scene, one Keifer savored in the sheer joy of being alive.
Sir Bryan joined him under the tree’s sturdy branches. Keifer greeted Bryan and said, “ ’Tis too bad your father cannot be here today.”
“Aye. He decided to remain in seclusion at Cardross. He just hasn’t been the same since his wife died. I fear for his health. But this,” he said, waving about him, “this is the culmination of all his dreams, everything for which we worked.”
Freedom from an oppressor’s rule. Men had given their lives— men like his father and brother and others before them. A pang of grief shot through Keifer, but along with it came assurance. Surely Da and Gordon looked down upon today’s celebration and knew that their sacrifice hadn’t been for naught.
On this beautiful summer day, as Englishmen and Scots celebrated an end to the seemingly endless issues that separated them, Keifer recalled the Bible verse the priest had quoted in today’s wedding ceremony: And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Keifer swallowed. The future was never a given, but it was always worth living for. He could see the future’s promise in the scene before him. He saw it there under the trees where children of Scottish and English blood played together as if their fathers and grandfathers had never warred against each other. He saw it in his father-in-law, Adam, earnestly speaking of his prized new ram rather than of borders and battle plans. He saw it in the warrior, Ceallach, who once could barely care for a child but now reached out to hug his young daughter.
Keifer could see the future in his beloved Nola, her body swollen with his own child. Such hope! Such promise!
Keifer fingered the braided strand of silver on his wrist, Nola’s favor, the one he had promised to wear until he died. He would keep his promise to her, just as God would keep his promise of peace for all those who believed in him.
He gazed again at the scene before him.
Keifer believed.
The Promise of Peace Page 23