Knight's Blood

by Julianne Lee

  “To a twenty-seven-year-old.”

  “‘Tis what he is.”

  “And I am what I am.” Irritation rose, and he looked down at his sword blade, thinking. Then he addressed her again. “Tell you what. How about you let Trefor know that if he wants to talk to me he can come talk, but that he shouldn’t send his girlfriend with messages.”

  “He doesnae know I’m here.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I do not do his bidding only for the sake of it.” Now the anger was in her eyes.

  “No, you’re right. I think you have an agenda entirely your own.”

  “And that means exactly what?”

  “If you love him, then why will you one day send him here where he’ll probably get killed? And as unprepared for battle as he was when he got here? What’s the deal?”

  For a moment he thought he’d actually touched a nerve and asked a question with a difficult answer. She blinked a little, then said, “1 cannot say.” He opened his mouth for a snide reply, but she continued. “That is to say, I do not know. I won’t know until I come to the juncture when I will do it. I only trust that I will have a good reason for it at the time.”

  “You mean your woo-woo magic can’t tell you what’s going on with your future self?” He gestured to his head with twiddling fingers and rolled his eyes. Forced to admit magic existed, he still didn’t think very much of it.

  She smiled, and a sly light came to her eyes. “Magic takes an effort I think not worth what such an effort would tell me. I only am glad he is here and dinnae care why.” There was a hesitation, like a computer processing a request, then she said, “I can, however, tell you to expect a visit from Himself this evening.”

  Alex’s heart skipped a beat, but he let nothing show. He grunted, then said, “Sir James? He visits me often. The odds are good.”

  But the sly smile remained. She inclined her head toward him and said, “Indeed. Then I will take my leave of you now, and have a good evening, my lord.” With that, she turned and left the tent.

  Alex’s pulse began to skip like a mad hatter. Twice she’d called him that, and pointedly enough to catch his attention. Could she know what had been in the message James had received? Alex could no longer concentrate on his sword and put it aside in its scabbard. He went outside to see how supper was coming and how soon they might eat.

  James was there, approaching from his own fires with the leather portfolio in his hand and a big grin on his long, ruddy face. He hailed Alex.

  “Alasdair! Come! Gather your men. I have great good news for you!”

  Alex made like he was surprised though pleased to have James in his camp, neither of which would ordinarily have been true, but tonight he at least was pleased. “What is it?”

  James gestured impatiently that Alex should stop asking questions and gather his men as he was told. With a whistle and a wave to Henry Ellot, Trefor, and Hector, Alex obeyed. The men came in a hurry and the ordinary knights and squires followed, most of them having witnessed the arrival of the letters that James now held. Everyone wanted to know what was going on.

  Once the MacNeils were in attendance in the clearing, James held the packet over his head and announced, “I have news from the king. Our liege Robert is well pleased with the loyal service and prowess in battle of Sir Alasdair an Dubhar MacNeil. In his wisdom and grace he has determined an appropriate reward. Many times Sir Alasdair has proven himself on the field. He has shown his heart to be true and his loyalty to his liege unflagging. I hold in my hand the charter elevating Sir Alasdair to take his rightful place among his equals in nobility, chivalry, bravery, and the grace of God.” There was a pleased murmur among the knights. James grinned at Alex and added, “Not to mention hatred of the English.” Alex noted Trefor’s face was impassive and he said nothing. The Earl of Douglas continued. “Now all pay obeisance to your lord, the Right Honorable Alasdair Joseph an Dubhar MacNeil, Earl of Cruachan.”

  Each in the gathering went to one knee, while James, who was the only one present who still outranked Alex, inclined his head in a bow. Looking out over the genuflecting men, an array of bent heads before him, Alex felt a surge of pleasure so boggling he could hardly keep from laughing out loud. Earl. Knowledge of what that meant in terms of both rights and responsibilities nearly knocked him sideways. He barely sensed James hooking an arm around his neck and telling him something about a formal ceremony when Robert returned from Ireland, as the men rose and he was guided off to James’ camp for celebration. Alex was handed the message from Robert, and though he couldn’t read the Latin, his eyes settled on the word “Cruachan.”

  He held out the parchment to Hector, though Hector couldn’t read at all, let alone decipher Latin. “What’s this? Cruachan?”

  “‘Tis an island not far from your own. Did ye not know it?”

  “I’ve heard the word but thought it was just something they called the little, uninhabited islands, like slang. You know, a ‘stack of stones.’”

  “‘Tis named for the cairn that holds one of our ancestors. I expect Robert has given back the land to the MacNeils for that reason. It was held by the MacDonalds for a while.”

  “A while?”

  “Some centuries. Not long.”

  Then Alex blinked. “Wait. Given back? What given back?”

  Hector chuckled. “Surely you understand this charter is not just for the title, but for the land itself. Your vassalage to the crown has just increased. Cruachan is a slightly larger island than Eilean Aonarach, and were Barra not such a large and beautiful place, I might be envious.”

  Alex was speechless. Another island to manage, and bigger than the one he already held. Coming up in the world this way was a heady thing and his ego swelled in spite of his better judgment. But he went with his friends to James’ camp with as much dignity as he had at his command. He was an earl now. Not just nobility, but ruling class. This meant being summoned to parliament. It meant powers over his vassals alien to his American sensibilities. It was increased responsibility and debt to his king he would have to fulfill if he were to keep this position. It made him one of the more powerful men in Scotland, and therefore even more under the king’s scrutiny.

  To celebrate, he was going to get good and drunk.

  The wine flowed freely that night, and though the supper was not the sumptuous feast they might have had if they’d been home where food and servants were more in abundance, the beef was plentiful and well seasoned from James’ stores. His musicians made bright, merry tunes and some of the men danced, sloppily and with great hilarity. Within James’ compound of tents the highest ranking of the raiders set to helping Alex acknowledge his good fortune and new status, welcoming him to a club that was as dangerous as it was exclusive and lucrative. Alex’s head swam with more than just wine and mead that night, and he could feel the power surge within him.

  Late in the evening, when talk ran down, the players packed up their fiddles, whistles, and drums, and men began moving away to sleep off the alcohol and exhaustion. Trefor came to flop down on the ground next to where Alex sat. He groaned with his full belly, then turned a bleary, sodden eye on his father.

  “So, Robert’s got his hooks into you good now, aye?”

  Alex glanced at him, then peered into the cuach in his hand. “He’s my king, and he holds a power over us you obviously don’t understand.”

  “I understand he’s keeping you from looking for Mom.”

  Alex glanced sideways at Trefor. “Have some respect.”

  “For her, or for you?” There was silence, then Trefor said, “When are you planning to go get her? You keep saying you’ll find her, but you haven’t lifted a finger so far.”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  “And you won’t ever, if you don’t get off your ass.”

  There was very little on earth Alex wanted more than to find Lindsay. But he had duties and wouldn’t be allowed much of anything once he found her if he didn’t live up to his obligations
to Robert.

  Trefor continued. “Now, I can see where you wouldn’t want to come after me, since I’m so unlikable and all.” Alex gave another sideways glance. That blasted Morag and her big mouth. “But I’d think you would be pretty hot to have your wife back. I don’t think you’ve been laid once since I got here. Not like James and his bunch, who pick up on whatever girls bat their eyelashes at them.”

  “Or you and that Bhrochan chick.”

  Fire flashed in Trefor’s eyes, and Alex wasn’t sure whether it was because of his disparaging tone regarding faeries or that he’d spoken of Morag. Other than that, the comment went ignored. Trefor continued as if he hadn’t heard. “You must be pretty horny by now.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Man, I wouldn’t. Ain’t nobody that good I would wait for them like that. Especially since it looks like it’s going to be a good long time before you even start the search.”

  “I’m going to find her.”

  “Then you’ll need some help.”

  Alex regarded him with curiosity now, knowing Trefor had an ability he did not. “What sort of help?”

  “Not me. Morag.”

  That brought a grunt of disgust. “Morag.” That nitwit was going to have to keep her mouth shut if he was ever going to address her again.

  “She knows things.”

  “I bet she does.”

  “I bet you’d like to know what else came in that packet today.” He said this in a snotty, superior tone designed to make Alex want to deny any such desire, a trap so Trefor could accuse him of not wanting to find Lindsay. So Alex declined to spring it and did not deny the truth.

  “Of course I would like to know.”

  Trefor thought about that a moment, then said, “My faerie girlfriend tells me that, besides your earl charter and a personal letter from Robert, the packet held a letter from one of James’ vassals. An intelligence report about another raiding party operating in the Borderlands. Scottish, by all accounts, but not under any banner recognized by Robert.”

  “Big deal. Tell me something that matters. The countryside is crawling with reivers and raiders. We just happen to be the largest and most official army of them out and about.”

  “Well, the reason such a thing was reported to James was not that there was yet another raiding party in the Marches, but that one of their number is a woman.”

  That perked Alex’s interest. He’d heard of women accompanying their husbands on campaign, but they rarely fought and even when they did their husbands did not speak of it. “A woman on her own?”

  “She calls herself a knight, they say, and she fights like one. James’ vassal is totally boggled by this and says she’s nearly seven feet tall and has black hair down past her shoulders. She’s as mean as a viper and as strong as five men. And she paints herself.”

  Now Alex frowned. “Mean?” That didn’t sound like Lindsay. “That can’t be her. Lindsay was the one always griping at me that I was too violent. She gave up her disguise to marry me because she was tired of fighting. And she’s tall for a woman, but she’s not that tall. Just under six feet.”

  “If you were as short as these guys around here, that’s tall enough to think she was seven foot. And people exaggerate. It’s not like we got this on CNN. I think it’s her. Tall, black hair, a woman who fights like a man.”.

  Alex considered that. Trefor had a point. It could be her, though it didn’t seem much like her. “She paints herself?”

  “The letter lacked details on that.”

  “Morag read the letter?”

  “James read it. Morag listened in.”

  Alex frowned. “She reads minds?”

  “No, she reads letters.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

  “Ah. So, if I ever get a letter from anyone I shouldn’t let her know until after I’ve read it?”

  Trefor gave him a sour look. “Be glad to know this stuff.”

  “James would have told me what was in the letter.”

  “Maybe. Maybe it would have been just an amusing tidbit he would have forgotten as soon as something more important came up. Which, seeing as how he’s the boss around here, pretty much everything in his day is more important than a woman reiver. More than likely he’d laugh it off as rumor gone off into fiction.”

  Alex was forced to acknowledge the point with a shrug, but said, “And we think it’s true because...?”

  Frustration crept into Trefor’s voice. “Because we know she’s out there, somewhere, and we know she’s tough enough to fight the way they say she does, and the physical description fits. You’ve got to go find her. You’ve got to dump James and go looking for my mother... Dad.”

  A tight knot of frustration clenched Alex’s heart. It was all he could do not to leap to his feet, jump on his horse, and ride off in search of Lindsay. But it was impossible. And Trefor would never believe that. He would never buy that Alex wanted to and couldn’t. But deserting his duties went against not only his pledge to Robert but also everything he’d ever been taught by his father and by his military training. He said, “When I get a chance, I will.”

  Trefor gazed at him in silence, and Alex could feel the heat of hatred coming from him in waves. His son made a disgusted noise, then climbed to his feet and walked away.

  Alex watched him go, and hated himself just as much as Trefor did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The feeling from the men was that Lindsay would panic and hold back in a fight. Her past performance was forgotten in the light of her revelation, and suddenly she was on probation again. Everything she did was analyzed for any sign of female fault and the least hesitation would be pointed to as unsuitability in battle. So she pressed harder than she ever had before when they’d thought her male. Her sword was quicker, her shouts louder, her eagerness to attack more plain than in any of the men present. It bordered on recklessness, but the need to prove herself more than before made her push the limits. No longer was it enough to appear determined; she had to appear bloodthirsty, and she found it difficult to achieve the appearance without becoming it. Battle anger became habitual.

  She proved herself well. At night, after these raids she made as a woman, when the day was dissected around the fire, nobody complained about her. To be sure, there were one or two who even risked their own reputations to praise her skill and prowess. Some seemed surprised she had not suddenly become incompetent with a sword now that her gender was known, some were quiet and sullen, but none tried to suggest she hadn’t been up to the task. She ate her meat with the men, drank her share of the mead, then rolled herself into her plaid with the hope she would have no more overt trouble from her compatriots.

  She acquired a squire from one of the other knights who felt himself overburdened with help, and the young man eagerly managed her plunder. He was kept busy with several horses, an extra sword, and some axes. All else had been sold off, and she carried cash and jewels in a pouch at her side. After a while, she felt as if she were making progress in the world.

  Except for her issues with Nemed. Over the next weeks the elfin king came around often, but Lindsay noticed he never mixed with the men. She saw him only from afar, in conference with An Reubair or simply watching them all from astride his horse in the distance. Often she would look up while they traveled and see the figure standing on a rise or near the edge of a forest, gazing at them as they passed, still as the trees and seemingly detached. Barely there, and unnoticed by the knights riding by. Perhaps he was watching the progress of his investment toward their goal. Or perhaps he was keeping an eye on her. The urge to wheel her horse and charge down on him to have it out was maddening. If only she could attack him as on a field of battle, she would have done it. Her hatred darkened her thoughts each time she saw him.

  The elfin king stayed just far enough away that there was no hope of chasing him down. Were she to try, he would disappear before she could reach him, and the rest of the men would think her behavior erratic. Hysterical. Feminine. T
hat would be the worst thing she could do in her situation. She rode on and awaited a real opportunity.

  An Reubair offered to let her sleep by his fire, where she wouldn’t be in competition with the ordinary knights for space, heat, and food, but she declined. Not only was she not interested in him, she especially didn’t want to sleep near him lest anyone think she was slipping into his bedroll. Though these days she did lay her blankets closer to the fire than before, she remained at the particular fire appropriate to her rank and among the men whose support she needed while fighting. A year as Alex’s squire had taught her much, and esprit de corps was a concept she understood well. Riding with these men, she only proceeded with her job and looked for an opportunity to kill Nemed.

  The thing she found most annoying during these weeks took her by surprise, when her hormones kicked in to remind her that all work and no play would make Sir Lindsay a dull girl. Early on, when she’d still been lactating and bleeding from the birth, she’d had no interest in sex and no reaction to the physically fit men around her who frequently stripped for various reasons. But these days her hormones were settling down to normal and the weather was coming into summer. Warm scents of grass and trees, the smell of earth and new growth were heady. Dizzying. The men around her relieved themselves of their heavy armor and clothes.

  The other knights were inclined to lie about the keep or sleep wearing only their trews — or sometimes nothing at all — and Lindsay found herself wanting to gaze upon them with appreciation. Some of them looked awfully good. Every one of them had battle scars, but during her years with Alex she’d become accustomed to that. None of these guys looked like modern bodybuilders, but two or three were so well muscled they rippled like football players when they moved, and she began to look forward to the days when those blokes would strip and sit by the fire to pick lice from themselves, just so she could watch.

  It was a struggle not to stare openly at the bodies on display around her, and she limited herself to quick, sideways glances. It wouldn’t do to stare. She couldn’t let on she was as horny as they. Sometimes she found herself throbbing, and wouldn’t they all have been so amused to know that? They’d surely take advantage, try to seduce her, and it would be that much more difficult not to cave to the temptation. And nobody needed the trouble that would cause. Contrary to the opinion of Erica Jong, there was no such thing as a truly zipless fuck, and laying so much as a hand on one of her fellow reivers would result in unimaginable havoc among them all. There was no choice but to refrain.