by Julianne Lee
Alex blinked at that. Fight? “No. No way. You’re not going into battle.”
“Why not?”
“Just... no.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t fight effectively if I had to think about you being there.”
“You did all right when I was your squire.”
“We weren’t married then.”
“You didn’t care about me then?” She knew better than that.
He blustered, in search of a reply, then said. “It’s hard to explain. It’s... you’re part of me now. I’m responsible for you now in ways I wasn’t then. You’re my wife, for crying out loud. I can’t let you ride into battle like that.”
“And I’m supposed to be okay with you doing the same thing?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head in the manner of a chastising schoolteacher. “I think, dear, I’m going to have to put my foot down and say ‘No more fighting for you.’ Now that you’re my husband and you’re a part of me, I can’t let you go charging off into the teeth of Edward’s army.”
“Lindsay — “
“Alex, stop it. Just stop being a pig for a moment, and listen to me.”
He closed his mouth and pressed his lips together, forcing himself to listen to her though he knew he wasn’t going to like any of what she would say. His gut refused to let his mind encompass the thought of her riding into battle. But he shut up for the moment so she could speak and then maybe shut up herself. Letting her talk herself out seemed the only way to get any peace.
“Alex,” she said softly as she stepped closer to him, “I can’t live this way. And we know neither of us can return to the future.”
He did know that, for getting here had been too dicey.
Going back, even if they could find someone to send them, might kill them. Now he knew why Danu had sent him to Nemed to return them last spring, rather than send them herself. It was the only way they could have made the trip without that risk. Nemed was no longer an option, so they were stuck.
Lindsay continued. “I have to do something with my life, or go mad. I’m just not built to hang around and pretend to be busy. I must be doing something. Contributing.”
“You do. You’re the reason I have for wanting to fight well, live, and come home.”
That brought a slight smile to her face and gave her brief pause, but then she said, “Merely existing to be in your thoughts and inspire you to greatness is a fine thing, but it doesn’t keep me occupied or give me purpose.”
“You’re a writer. So write.”
“About what? Alex, you’re still asking me to live in a vacuum, and I’m telling you I can’t do that. I won’t do that. As in, you will lose me one way or another if you refuse me this.”
Lose her. Yes, he knew she would leave if she decided she was unhappy enough. Unlike most pissed-off wives in this era, she knew how to live on her own and had the guts to do it. He sighed, defeated, and said, “What exactly is your plan?”
“I wish to be your partner. I want to accompany you on your campaigns. Fight by your side. Be with you and be your equal.”
“No. You know that can’t happen.”
“As you keep reminding me, I’m a countess now. Wives of powerful men do it all the time.”
“Yeah, when their husbands are dead or incapacitated. They take over when there’s nobody else to do it, and more often than not they’re allowed to hold the power because they’re a placeholder for a minor male heir. We don’t have one of those yet. Women accompany their husbands on campaign, but not as knights and rarely in armor. And those who have fought only bring ridicule on their husbands. It would be shameful for me to let you do this. I’d be laughed all the way back to Hungary.”
“Then let them laugh. And let them blame it on your Hungarian side. You’re a strong enough man to take it. You’re powerful enough.”
“Ha. Very tricky, Lindsay, but I’m not stupid. I know exactly how strong I am, and how strong I am not. It would be very difficult to withstand that sort of crap.”
“But not impossible. And I can fight. You know I can. If I’m an asset, then who’s to complain of it?”
Alex thought about that. She had a point. Unlike other women he’d seen on campaign, Lindsay could fight like a man. She would be a significant asset. But there was one thing more he wanted to know. “Why do you even want to do this? You never liked fighting before. You used to be on my case all the time for being bloodthirsty. How come you’re all of a sudden hot to kill people?”
That caught her, and her shoulders slumped as she thought about her reply. “I don’t really know. Except that when I was looking for my... looking for Trefor, I knew I had to do it. Fighting was the only way to accomplish my goal. I never liked it, and still won’t, but it enabled me to be taken seriously. I was respected for it, even after Reubair’s men learned I was a woman. And Alex,” she regarded him from beneath her brow, “I was respected in a way I never experienced even in the twenty-first century. For a while, before they began to revert to hormonal dogs, I was accepted into their midst as one of them. And I liked that. I liked it a lot.”
“You don’t think my men are hormonal dogs? ‘Cause I can tell you right now they are.”
“But they are also your men. Not likely to make passes at your wife.”
Alex grunted. Hard to argue with that.
He drew a deep, calming breath, let it out slowly, then said, “Only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you come along, you can’t fight as an equal. The men would never stand for that.” She started to protest, but he silenced her with a raised finger. “You know they won’t. It’s too close to where they live. A female knight would be too much a threat to who they think they are.”
“And of course we’re not talking about you.”
He frowned and bypassed the remark. “If you come, on the battlefield you will have the status of a squire.”
“I’m a knight.”
“You’re a woman, and if you go around telling people Robert knighted you, you will embarrass the king.” He leaned over to get in her face. “We... don’t... want... that.” Then he straightened and continued. “If you come along, indeed, if you’re going to function at all in my affairs, you’ll need to take a secondary role in all of it.” She opened her mouth again, and he rode over her. “Like it or not, fair or not, it’s the way things are around here. You will be my other half, and in the eyes of everyone around us my lesser half, because that is the way they think and I can’t change that. You will be my advisor, but not in the presence of other people. You can listen in on whatever suits you, but you will not speak until we are alone. You will never dispute with me in the presence of others. You will present a united front with me before everyone, for the slightest crack between us will invite a wedge from anyone who would cause me trouble. Cause us trouble. Do you get what I’m saying? Do you understand what must be done for you to get what you’re asking for?”
She considered that, and he waited for her to think it through. She was a smart woman, and he had faith she would see his position. Then she said, “I understand. I know I’m asking to put you in an awkward position.”
“And we need to do whatever we can to mitigate the inherent problems.”
She nodded. “Then you agree with me.”
“Agree that you should ride into battle? No. But I can see you won’t be happy unless you do.”
She went to him and slipped her arms around his neck. “I won’t be completely sanguine until both of us are retired from fighting entirely. But I’ll be less unhappy if I’m with you when you charge the enemy. I couldn’t live knowing I’m guaranteed to outlive you.”
Alex remembered the look on his mother’s face when he’d told her he was going into the Navy like his father, and now Lindsay had those same wide, nearly tearful eyes and pressed-closed mouth. Back then he’d resented Mom’s lack of faith he would stay alive, but after more than a decade of military life, combat flying, and
medieval battle, he knew better. Lindsay was right. They’d both been right; he’d chosen a life that would surely end in an ugly, precipitous manner. He slipped his arms around her waist and she kissed him. Warm and sweet, soft and delicious. He let his hand slip down just far enough to feel the beginning of her cleft, where he knew it made her crazy to feel his fingers. Her arms slipped from his neck and she went to untie his trews.
“If I were to accompany you, you wouldn’t have to make it all the way home for me to be there for you.” She reached inside the trews for him and squeezed. “After a battle the earl and his squire could retire to their tent to comfort each other.”
He reached for the fastenings of her dress. “Clean blood from each other.”
“Celebrate that we’re still both alive.” She let his trews drop to the floor for him to step out of them. He went to pick her up, but she held his hands and said, “Uh-uh. Tub first.”
Alex groaned and tried to kiss her and encourage her toward the bed, but she ducked away.
“Tub. Scrape clean the crusty places.”
He grunted, and stepped into the lukewarm tub. It was tiny: just large enough for him to sit on the stone placed inside it, with his knees bent nearly to the surface of the water. And it teetered a little on the stone floor, so the water sloshed when he moved. Lindsay took the small pot from the fire and poured some more hot water from it to warm the tub. Alex reached for her skirt and slipped his hand up underneath it. Not for the first time he appreciated the custom of no underwear on women.
“Too bad this thing isn’t big enough for both of us.”
“You’re the earl. And you know something about engineering. Build a bath house.”
He made a thoughtful humming noise as he finished untying her dress and tugged it and her shift from her shoulders so they dropped to the floor as she bathed him. His head lay back against the edge of the tub and he watched her face as the cloth in her hand roamed his body. There was a bright look in her eye and a pleasant curl to her mouth, and it seemed she was relearning him. Rediscovering, and he was oh so pleased to let her. At his chest, she at first attempted to fluff the hair there, but it lay plastered flat with the water. So she gave up and leaned down to kiss him there. He took her face between his palms to kiss her, and her hand and cloth went between his knees and up his thigh to make him terribly impatient with her touch on what she liked to call his “naughty bits.”
When she let him up from the tub and dried him off, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, then climbed on after her. It was good to celebrate they were alive. They made love to each other, and he hoped they would be strong enough together to overcome the problems they would face in being together as partners instead of traditional medieval spouses. He thought he might be kidding himself, but for the moment, moving together as one, it seemed anything was possible.
Chapter Nineteen
The castle was abuzz with preparations for the expedition to Cruachan. Alex had to place a moratorium on fishing until they would leave, for the MacConnells were traditionally allied with the MacDonalds and would surely carry to them the news of the earl’s impending visit. Alex didn’t want to sail smack into a welcoming committee of MacDonalds who might feel they had no need of a new liege. The MacConnells of Eilean Aonarach grumbled, even Donnchadh, who was usually more accepting of Alex’s rule. He came to the Great Hall that night and was escorted to the head table while Alex and his knights lingered over supper. Lindsay sat to Alex’s right, Trefor to his left. Alex leaned back to regard his visitor and consider his words.
“My lord.” Donnchadh made his obeisance, then was bade to rise. “My lord, with all respect I cannae let you do this.”
“Do what?”
“Curtail the fishing. You’ll be taking food from the mouths of the children.”
“I can’t have the boats sailing off to Cruachan before I can get there. They’ll have to wait until I’ve secured the island.”
“And how long will that be? How many days?”
“A week. Let us pack up and go, and then you can fish to your hearts’ content.”
Donnchadh glanced around in his distress, as if searching for help. “The summer wanes. The fishing needs to be done now.”
“Haven’t they been working all summer?”
“Oh, aye, and hard. ‘Tis always a hard life for the fishermen and their wives. And each day they dinnae make a catch makes it even more difficult. Fewer fish, and if you don’t mind my saying, it will also mean fewer of them on your own table come winter.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“I do not. A week will put a hardship on us all.”
Alex considered that but had to weigh it against his position with the MacDonalds of Cruachan. If their laird on the mainland were to send men, it would be an ugly mess for Alex to claim his land. People might die. “I need to be the one to bring news of the transfer of leadership. I can’t let the MacDonalds put their heads together before I get there.”
“Ye will have no trouble. I assure you.”
“Yesterday you said otherwise.”
Donnchadh pressed his lips together, and his eyes went dull with his frustration. “My lord, ye must have faith in your own people of Eilean Aonarach. We’ve promised allegiance to you. If you order the fishermen to keep away from Cruachan, they will obey. You can trust in it.”
“Like I trusted in the Bretons, who then betrayed me to the MacLeods and invaded my castle in an attempt to murder my family.”
“We are not Bretons. We are MacConnells and do not abide such cowardly practice.”
“It only takes one. One boat to drift accidentally-on-purpose over to Cruachan and let slip word that the new earl is coming to take over. I can’t let that happen.”
“Most will welcome you.”
“All will take the side they think is going to win, and you know that. Even if all I get is a public relations victory...” At Donnchadh’s puzzled frown Alex elaborated. “Even if all that happens is that I win them over before there’s a fight, then that is the best thing. I can’t do that if I’ve got MacConnells passing gossip and folks forming opinions before I get there. I can’t let the boats go out until I’m under way.”
Donnchadh started to speak again but thought better of his words and shut his mouth tight. Alex understood his distress but didn’t have an answer that would make him happy. The villager had nothing more to argue, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
Then, just when Alex thought Donnchadh would give it up and accept the moratorium, Trefor opened his big, fat mouth.
“Aw, my lord, let them fish. They won’t hurt anything.” He looked sideways at Alex, with eyes filled with cold mischief. This was purposeful; he knew what he was doing, and he knew the trouble it would cause Alex.
Donnchadh looked to Trefor with an expression of hope, and Alex knew he was back to square one with the argument. He turned to Trefor in irritation and said in modem English, “Shut up.” Not that he didn’t know Donnchadh could figure out his meaning from the tone of his voice.
Trefor replied in Gaelic so Donnchadh would follow him easily, “He’s right, my lord. No fishing for a whole week would be a hardship on the people. Your people. You’re responsible for the welfare of this island.”
Alex said, also in Gaelic so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself to Donnchadh, “And I can’t do that if I’m tied up subduing an island full of clansmen incited by the MacConnells and backed up by the MacDonald laird. It’s not going to kill anyone to not fish for a week.”
Now Donnchadh spoke, seeing an opening. “Oh, but it might, my lord. There could be such a lack as might mean starvation sufficient to kill the very young and the very old. The island is expecting three children to be born before Martinmas, and the widow of old man Fhearghas MacNeil grows feeble. Without sufficient food, this winter might be her last.”
Alex’s voice went hard, angry he had to argue this all over again. It meant he was going to leave his valued community leader wit
h not only the question of the fishing unsettled in his mind, but also a question of his authority. He shut the discussion down. “Donnchadh, I’ve said all I’m going to. I’ll take your words under advisement. That is all. You are dismissed.”
Knots stood out on Donnchadh’s jaw, and his face flushed. Damn Trefor for his butting in. Donnchadh bowed again, then turned and left.
Alex turned to Trefor and said through his teeth in modern English, “Try that again and I’ll have you drug out into the bailey and hung from the arm over the stables’ hayloft. And guess what, I can do that and nobody will say ‘boo.’ Your men can’t defend you, ‘cause they’re outnumbered and outclassed. My guys would stomp yours just for the exercise. Do you get me? Open your mouth again, and I’ll forget we’re related.”
“Like you give a damn on that account anyway.”
Alex was angry enough to refuse to be guilted. “Well, you see my point, then. Falling back on the fact that you’re my genetic heir would be an incredibly bad idea. So shut the hell up and act like you’re not an idiot. Keep out of my business.”
“That guy was right. You’re starving the village.”
Through clenched teeth, Alex replied, “Winter is months away. There are other resources. I’m not convinced the loss will be great enough to make so much difference as to outweigh the advantage to be obtained by the element of surprise in approaching Cruachan. Furthermore, though I shouldn’t have to be explaining this to you, you little shit, as a MacConnell himself, Donnchadh’s credibility here is somewhat strained. He makes a fairly good case for not starving the village, but as I said I’m not convinced. His loyalty has never been tested, and I don’t want to be caught flat-footed if he decides a MacDonald regime would be to his advantage. Do you get it now? Do you fucking understand?”
Trefor took a long time to answer, glaring at Alex with anger that flamed in his eyes and flushed his cheeks. Finally he said, “Aye, my lord.”
“Good.” Alex turned forward again to address a bit of fat left on the plate before him, and sat back with it to chew as if nothing else were going on and his stomach weren’t knotted up like a Celtic brooch swarming with distorted horses, dogs, and bears. He gave Lindsay a sideways look, where she sat with a large cuach of ale in her hands, sipping at it. “No comment from you?”