Conquered Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 1)

by Kara Griffin

  Men’s voices came, distracting her from her task. It was a good thing because Merlin came tromping inside and lay near the hearth. The hound stretched out, taking up most of the floor space in front of the fire.

  “Careful, Merlin, or you’ll set yourself aflame.” She shooed him away. Her hound lifted his hulking head and thumped his massive tail sending a waft of ash into the air and caused the flames to flicker. He turned in circles and finally lay in his usual spot at the end of Jay’s bed.

  “Mother, look who comes,” Jay called from the door.

  Two men followed her son into the cottage. They were formidable men and reminded her of the warriors of her clan. If only she were a score of years younger, but alas she was no longer a young maiden bent on making eyes at handsome warriors.

  “Oh, Good Sir James. I thought you would stop by. I haven’t seen ye in many a day.”

  “Mistress. It is good to see you as always. I have come. You ken why? I will be away and need to refill my stores,” he said taking her hand.

  “I’m a mite busy at the moment.”

  His comrade laughed. “You said she was an old crone. I thought she’d be an ugly old witch, but she’s beautiful.”

  Gwenol chuckled. “You, Sir James, are the very devil. I’ve been called various names by many, but old crone is not amongst them. Who have ye brought with ye to visit? Come, come, I have no time to await you whilst you gather wool. There’s an injured lass I must tend.” She swept an arm alluding to the poor lass lying yonder.

  “This is Robert, the Bruce.”

  Robert bowed. “I am pleased to meet you Mistress Gwenol, for James speaks of you oft. He says you take great care of him and many far and wide.”

  Jay fell to his knees. “The king, Mother, the king is in our cottage.” His voice rose to astounding awe.

  Gwenol knelt as well. “Good Sire.”

  “Please rise. I come with James only as a friend. He tells me ye make the most effective medicinals for which I have a need.”

  “That I do. Do ye have an ailment?”

  “I’ve been having trouble breathing and when I eat, my stomach pains me.”

  “Let me tend to her and I shall fix a remedy for you.”

  When he nodded, she hastened to the bed and went about checking her for wounds. She realized her leg was broken. “Oh, the poor lass. I must give her something for pain. Jay, hand me the urn there, the third one.”

  He did as she asked. Gwenol tipped the jar, pouring the liquid into her mouth, and massaged her throat to get her to swallow. The lass groaned and continued to shake. She barely drew breath.

  James stood near and tried to gaze over her shoulder. “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know, my lord. Merlin found her in the river.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “I shall, but must await the potion to take effect.”

  James picked up a jar and studied its contents. “What have ye given her?”

  “Yarrow mixed with the poppy. She will be under its spell and won’t feel any pain. I cannot set the poor lass’ leg, ‘twould be too painful for her.”

  “I envy her the potion but not the injury.” James set the jar down on the table.

  “Please help yourselves to the stew in the kettle while ye await me for there is plenty.”

  Jay poured bowls and attended to the men while she continued to check for wounds. By the time she finished, she noted in her head the injuries. Firstly, her broken leg would need tending. She quickly wrapped a severe cut on her upper arm that would need stitching. She had several broken bones in her hand which would also need to be set. Her face would need hamamelis juice, which she had little of and would have to trek to Wales to gather more leaves. For now she had enough to use on her face.

  What worried Gwenol more was the large bump on her head. She listened while the men chatted as she continued to assess her and then went to her table where she kept medicinals. As she prepared herbs and remedies, she watched the men.

  “I don’t know why you insist on taking those herbs, James. You are already maddened.” The king jested with the Good Sir.

  “Och you should try it for you feel invincible. There is naught to compare it to.”

  Robert shoved him. “Well, I need not be invincible for I am the king.”

  James scoffed a laugh. “Indeed.”

  “All I want is for my stomach to cease aching as it does now,” Robert said.

  Gwenol hastened to him and handed him a few leaves of horehound. “Chew these, sire. It will help ye until I can make you something stronger.”

  “Aye, tastes odd.”

  “Aye, ‘tis but mint, sire. Keep chewing. Don’t swallow it. Be sure to spit it out when you’ve chewed it long enough.”

  “Robert, are ye still intent on wintering up north?” James asked when the king returned his attention.

  “Why, have ye a better suggestion?”

  “I was thinking of Rathlin. The Bissets would welcome ye and you would have a safe place to stay during the heavy snows while you wait for spring.” James finished his stew and set his bowl aside.

  “I hadn’t thought of them. Aye, I’ll go and send a messenger letting them ken we are coming. I can handle correspondence from there and continue to gather supporters.”

  “I am certain they will receive you for it’s well known they despise the English king. What will ye have me do whilst you are away?”

  Robert spit out the chewed leaves and stems of the horehound into his empty bowl. “I would that you continue to travel with me, but I’ve been considering our attacks …”

  “And what exactly are ye thinking?” James’ smile widened as he listened to the king.

  “Me thinks ye will have an important task. I need ye to keep the English from advancing north. Keep them below Stirling if you can. It will be our secret war.”

  James chuckled. “I like the thought of that. Aye, our secret war.” He rubbed his hands together. “I will pick the best soldiers to go with me. We’ll keep the swines at bay and busy this winter. I almost commiserate with King Edward for I’ll be wreaking havoc upon his soldiers.”

  “It shall be a wearisome winter for you, James.”

  “Not at all wearisome, Robert. I shall be busy and look forward to it.”

  Gwenol mixed a batch of herbs and set them over a low flame. It was time to do the deed. “Sir James, will you help me? I shall set her leg now.” She placed a long narrow piece of wood beside the bed.

  James neared and the closer he got, the more ireful his expression. Gwenol normally didn’t fear the man because he’d always been kind to her when he visited. The man’s reputation for brutality traveled afar, nonetheless to her he was akin to a son. Yet the face he made sent a chill down her spine.

  “Why are you looking at her like that?”

  He turned and approached the king. “Robert, why don’t ye set off so you can send off your messenger to the Bissets? I will await Gwenol and will bring your medicinals.”

  Robert agreed. “When you finish here, meet me at the camp.” Before he left, he approached the bed, but James blocked his path and view.

  Gwenol hurried to the king and bowed. “I am humbled to have ye in my home, Sire. Here,” she said, and handed him a pouch. “’Tis more mint for your ailing stomach. I shall send more potent medicinals along with James.”

  “I thank you, Mistress Gwenol, for your service.” The king stepped next to Jay. “I could use a strapping tall lad like you in my army.”

  Gwenol rushed forward. “Nay, Sire, he is only ten summers. He is too sweet a lad to take to arms. I beg ye not to take him, for he is all I have.” She was ready to weep if need be to sway him, but he smiled.

  “Ten summers? What do ye feed him?”

  She smiled and waved as he left the cottage. Grateful the king didn’t take her son, she let out a relieved sigh.

  “Gwenol, tell me … How did you find her?”

  She returned her attention to James. “The la
ss? I told ye, Merlin found her in the river. The poor thing was near to drowned. She’s hurt badly. She must’ve floated down the river a good ways.” Gwenol recounted the wounds that needed tending. “I will remedy her leg for I’m certain it is paining her the most.”

  “Her name is Kerrigan.”

  “You know her?”

  “Aye, I recognized her garments. Now that I can view her closely, she is indeed Kerrigan Cameron. How did she come to be in the river? I don’t understand it because she was with the king’s wife and sisters and young daughter. They were headed to safety. I thought she might do something rash and try to escape, but clearly she was running from something.”

  “Or someone.” Gwenol went about setting the broken limb with James’ help. When all was placed to right, she positioned the wood and wrapped it tightly so she couldn’t move. Now that the worst task was over, she would see about setting the hand.

  “Her husband is going to kill me.”

  She almost didn’t hear James, but looked up at him. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because the last time he saw his wife, I thrashed him and took her.”

  “Good Cailleach help ye for only the great goddess can save ye from his wrath. The lass must be beautiful, for I can tell how lovely she must’ve been without all her bruises and swelling.” Gwenol listened as James recounted what passed. “Surely he will understand you were only trying to help him.”

  “Would you see it that way?”

  “Mayhap not. Do you deem I should get a message to him? I can send Jay.”

  “Nay, I will tell him. If you’ll tend her, I shall make my way to Graeme and send him here.”

  “Of course, Good Sir. I am gladdened to help her.”

  James grasped the lass’ unhurt hand. “Gwen, please don’t, whatever you do, let her die. I vow the man is besotted with his wife and she with him. I’ve never seen two people love each other more.”

  “I will do everything in my power, my lord, to make sure she lives.”

  “I must go.” James released Kerrigan’s hand and stood beside her. He noticed a wooden medallion around her neck and removed it. While studying it, he realized it bore resemblance to the Bruce’s crest. It would be vital in convincing Graeme that Kerrigan was safe, and he decided to bring it with him.

  “Let me give you the king’s medicinals.”

  “Gwenol, he must not ken she is here. If Robert returns, be sure he does not see her for he would know there is mischief afoot. She was trying to escape his envoy.”

  “I shall protect her, worry not, Good Sir.”

  With Kerrigan slumbering under the effects of the poppy and herbs, Gwenol hastened to her table and prepared the remedy for the king’s ailment. She mixed licorice, sage, willow, roses, fennel, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, cormorant blood, mandrake, and three kinds of pepper. And the final ingredient dragon’s blood, which was rare and she’d only been able to obtain a small jar. The bright red balm of the dracaena tree turned the paste to a crimson color.

  When she finished with his remedy, she took a handful of mushrooms and sprinkled dust from the poppy on them, and put them in a pouch for James.

  “Here ye are, Good Sir. Remember to cut the mushrooms in half when ye take it. Lest ye might not be aware of your actions.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for, Mistress. Och I’ll need more than this, Gwen, for I won’t make it back this way until spring.”

  She took the sack from him and filled it with more mushrooms and the powder of the poppy. “Be well and safe, Sir James.”

  “And you, Gwen.”

  Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  His dreams enmeshed with dreadful visions. Graeme awoke with a start, and his chest thronged with the beat of his heart. The visions caused his hands to shake, and he took a slow and steady breath. Each night was the same, for he dreamt of Kerrigan’s death. As much as he tried to reason she was safe and protected by Robert’s army, he knew that was uncertain.

  He’d been at the abbey nearly three weeks and still they received no word from James. If Kerrigan was hurt as his visions alluded to, he would definitely hold James in contempt.

  With the sun soon to rise, Graeme visited Friar Hemm. The man always rose early to tend to his parchments and missives. He found him hunched over a message.

  “Good morn, Friar,” he said as he neared the table.

  “Good Lord above. I cannot believe …” his words trailed off when he entered.

  “What’s amiss? Have you received ill news?”

  “That I have. Apparently King Robert sent his wife, sisters, daughter, and their company to Edinburgh.” The friar continued to frown at the parchment.

  Graeme’s mouth fell open at the news and he stiffened, but wouldn’t assume anything until the friar elaborated. “Why would he send them south? ‘Twould be dangerous what with the skirmishes they’d contended with recently. Edward would surely wish to seize them and use them against our king.”

  “Perhaps they weren’t supposed to head south. They were captured by the English king supporters near Carrack. ‘Tis sad news for the women shan’t be treated well. Edward wants Robert to kneel before him.”

  “If the Bruce kneels before him, he’d be sure to lose his head.”

  “There is further distressing news, Graeme, I’m sorry to say.” Hemm set the parchment away from him with disgust.

  “What? Speak it.” Graeme leaned closer, and hoped to glimpse the message, but the friar pushed the parchment farther from him.

  “It is said the ladies were captured along with a family friend. I do not ken the lady’s name or who she is for it doesn’t say.”

  Kerrigan. Surely it had to be her. Graeme released a bated sigh. As much as he hoped she’d be safe, he now knew she was not. He motioned for the parchment and the friar eventually handed it to him. He read the words hastily. It gave no clue as to who was in their company or how the women fared.

  “Damn James to hell. The king must have sent Kerrigan along with the other ladies.”

  The friar nodded. “’Tis likely. Did ye read that Niall Bruce also attended them? He was drawn and hung. The king’s sisters hang in cages in Roxburgh and Berwick. The daughter sent to a nunnery, and his wife sent to Londontown. It does not say what happened to the others in their company. We must hold hope Lady Kerrigan wasn’t amongst them when they were captured.”

  “I am leaving this day, Friar. I will find her, no matter what it takes.”

  “Await, my lord. If you intend to visit Roxburgh or Berwick, you shall go dressed as a crofter so no one recognizes you. Ye won’t gain any news garbed as a highlander. Come, I will give you garments.”

  Graeme followed him and he was handed two piles of clothing. “My thanks, Friar. I will let you know how we fare.”

  “I await your hasty return, my lord. I hope you’re able to find the lady. God keep her safe until you do.”

  He left the abbey and found his comrades near the stables. They groomed their horses and jested.

  “Your horse cannot beat mine,” Heath said, aghast at Brodin’s boast.

  Liam laughed, but continued to rub straw over his horse’s flanks, thoroughly scraping the dried mud from his legs. “I hold the coin. I’d wager Brodin is aright and his horse would beat yours in a race. But mine would beat both of yours.”

  “Oh, you surely are fooling yourself. Let us decide this and the horse’s owner shall win the coin.” Heath shoved him and made him drop the straw.

  Graeme cleared his throat and drew their attention. “We must depart.” He tossed out the garments. “Wear these. We will go dressed as crofters.”

  “Where are we headed,” Brodin dared to ask.

  “To the lowlands.” He quickly explained the message Friar Hemm received. “If Kerrigan was sent with the king’s family, she is likely at Roxburgh or Berwick.”

  “How’d ye suppose we rescue her?”

  He gave a sharp glance at Heath. “We will go dressed thusly and mingle with the townsfolk. If
we find her we shall pay to get her out.”

  Liam nodded. “We have enough coin from our last employ. It should be enough to bribe the guards or pay for information.”

  “Let us make haste. The longer she is there, the more jeopardy she is in.” He pulled on the breeches and rolled his tartans into a ball and stuffed them in the sack tied to his horse. When they’d finished dressing, he and his comrades appeared to be farmers. He was reassured by their disguise and reasoned no one residing in the lowlands would recognize them.

  With the urgency, they hurried about their tasks and mounted their horses. Graeme rode ahead of the others and kept to a swift pace. He wanted to search Roxburgh first since it was on the way to Berwick. They passed a small regiment of English soldiers along the road. Fortunately the soldiers thought them farmers given their state of dress and didn’t pay them any heed. Graeme considered bringing a cart to better their deception. But it would have slowed them and he was in too much of a hurry.

  Roxburgh drew closer, and he noted the townspeople walking toward the center. Graeme led his friends to the nearest hostler by the gate lest they need to depart quickly. He boarded his horse and waited for Brodin, Liam, and Heath to stable their horses.

  “There’s a gathering in the courtyard. We should find out what’s drawing everyone’s attention.” Brodin hastened toward the sound of revelry.

  He followed his comrades, and they joined the large group of people who stood near the great fortification. Graeme was impressed by its size and beauty. Such a castle would be coveted and its location a definite advantage in the will to win Scotland.

  People called out foul names and expletives at the woman hanging above them in a small cage. Her naked body on display for all to see. She cried. Graeme fisted his hands against the merciless rule of the English king. Who would do something so heinous to a poor innocent lass?

  From what he read in the missive, the Bruce’s sister, Mary, was sent to Roxburgh. It was she who cried out from above.

  “Heath and I will question the guard. Await here.” Brodin motioned to them to wait.