Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01]

by The Stone Maiden

  Sebastien opened his eyes. He knew that feeling well. He glanced at Alainna, and she looked at him, pausing in her translation, as if she shared his thoughts.

  "But Conall knew that his companion Mac Morna loved the princess of the silver tower too," Lorne went on. "And Conall loved his friend, for he was the friend of his soul. Whoever wed the princess would stay on the green isle forever. Mac Morna was ready for such peace in his life, while Conall hungered for more adventures. His heart was torn.

  "Then he turned and handed the girl into the arms of his friend. And Conall told the king that Mac Morna had taken down the pillars and won the princess...."

  Something intangible constricted in his chest. He knew what heaven it was to hold Alainna. He could not imagine giving her into another man's arms, to be another man's wife.

  He knew now how much he wanted her; he knew he had been a fool to think he could leave her. Handfasted for the price of a contract and a charter, bonded by a king's order. But a deeper bond had somehow formed between them, when neither of them had wanted that to happen.

  Pride, his and hers, could break that bond like an iron mallet on stone. He closed his eyes in anguish.

  Hearing Lome and then Alainna stop their narratives, hearing the delicate sounds of the silver branch again, he opened his eyes. Alainna smiled at him.

  "That tale is one of my favorites," she said, still leaning into his side.

  "A marvelous story," he murmured. He felt a smile rise from his heart to his eyes to his lips.

  He was glad, just then, that the bench was crowded, so that Alainna had to press so closely against him. He was glad that he had not sought his customary place in a shadowed corner, as he had originally thought to do, even now.

  And he was glad that he had taken the handfasting vow with her, if only for a little while. No matter what the future held for either of them, he would treasure what this day had wrought.

  * * *

  "The priest is drunk," Una said. Alainna peered around Sebastien's shoulder to look at Father Padruig, who sat at Sebastien's other side.

  "What, already?" Niall said, sitting across the table. "He usually waits until the stories are done. Here, Padruig, give me that." He swiped the sheep's bladder out of the priest's uncertain grip and put it to his own mouth, swallowing lustily. He set it down and grinned at Una. "There, less for him, see."

  Una eyed them both with disgust. "He has hardly been here for a few hours, since the handfasting ceremony ended, and already he is foolish with drink."

  Father Padruig looked up. "I am not foolish," he said expansively, "and my friend Niall of the One Hand told me what was said at the ceremony. Ach! I am unhappy to have missed it! Niall says it brought a tear to his eye."

  "It did that," Niall agreed. "And if you had witnessed it, we would be celebrating a marriage and not a handfasting." He and the priest snorted with laughter.

  Una made an impatient sound. "This one is not drunk," she told Padruig, pointing to Sebastien as if he was exemplary. "And he has been sipping the water of life along with the rest of you. And you a priest!" She shook her head and walked away.

  "I am a fine priest," Padruig said defensively to the air.

  "You are," Niall agreed. He slanted a look at Sebastien. "How is it this knight is not drunk, if all he ever had before he came to Kinlochan was French wines and thin English ale?"

  "I was raised on Breton wine, which should be sipped cautiously, and only while leaning against a wall." Sebastien smiled languidly and looked at Alainna, his gray eyes sparkling. She smiled, amused.

  "When you go there, bring some back for us," Niall said.

  "He cannot do that for a year," Padruig said. "He cannot go to Brittany or anywhere for a year and a day, unless he takes Alainna with him. And she will not go!" He tugged the bladder from Niall's single hand.

  Sebastien looked at Alainna. "What is he talking about?"

  She looked down, her heart thumping. "He means that if you leave me for more than three nights in a row, the handfasting is annulled."

  "Annulled?" he asked.

  "As if it never happened," she said.

  He stared at her. Then he looked away suddenly, frowning as he, turned his half-empty cup in his fingers.

  She glanced away. "I did not know it myself until earlier today. I thought you would be glad to hear about it," she murmured. "Since... you must go away."

  Sebastien did not reply. Unable to read his silence, as she often could do, she did not know if he was pleased or displeased with the revelation.

  "That nuptial contract that I wrote out for you is now signed and valid." Padruig leaned toward Sebastien. "But it needs a marriage to keep it so. Be careful that you do not go anywhere without her, eh!" He grinned sloppily.

  "Alainna will not leave Kinlochan," Niall said. "She takes after her kinswoman Esa. The roots of home and hearth are deep in both of them."

  "What more should I know about handfasting that I do not?" Sebastien asked, his tone grim. Alainna glanced sharply at him.

  "If you bed her, you wed her," Padruig said. "That makes a marriage union in the eyes of God, if not the Church."

  "That I know," Sebastien said in a low growl, a muscle flashing in his jaw.

  "And as far as I am concerned, as a priest, a bedding is a marriage, no matter if you undo the vows or not," Padruig said sternly, summoning himself to stare hard at them both. "Handfasting is allowed by old Celtic law, you see," he said, wagging a thick finger in the air. "But Holy Mother Church in Rome does not recognize such unions." He shrugged. "Still, if you leave her, and do not return for three days or more, by custom, she is not your handfasted wife, and never was."

  "And all your fine poetry will be wasted," Niall lamented, his eyes reddening. The priest handed him the bladder.

  Sebastien sat wordlessly beside Alainna. He did not look at her, nor did he cease to turn his cup around as if its simple design fascinated him. Yet she felt the deep pull of his thoughts like a strong, unseen cord between them.

  Bedding made a marriage, she told herself; regardless of vows spoken or cast aside, in the eyes of God they would be wed forever if they gave in to the delicious temptations that she had sampled already with him. She glanced at Sebastien, but he did not look at her. She sighed.

  "So you had best think carefully," Father Padruig said, sober in tone. "Handfasting is never a step to take lightly."

  "I know, Father." Sebastien gave Alainna a quicksilver glance. She felt it through to her toes, like a physical touch.

  "But then you both obey royal orders," Niall said, grinning. "What is the problem? The thinking has been done, eh? And now you will find peace and happiness together, as the king wishes for you, and as we all wish for you." He smiled at them.

  Sebastien angled his head, a slight frown puckering his brow. Alainna turned away, her cheeks heating, desire spinning in her belly just from looking at him, just from sitting beside him.

  She glanced up as Giric and Lulach sat down at the table on either side of Niall. Not long ago, she had noticed them laughing with Robert and some of the Norman knights. Now the room quieted again, for Lorne leaned his harp against his thigh and began to play a soft melody. Alainna relaxed, resting an elbow on the table as she listened. She yawned.

  "Bed soon, eh?" Lulach asked, and winked at her.

  She blushed. "I did not sleep well last night. I worked late at my carvings."

  "No more of that, eh, Sebastien?" Niall chuckled.

  Sebastien did not reply, but folded his arms on the table and faced Giric. "Tomorrow or the next day, if weather permits, I will take some men and ride through the northwestern part of Kinlochan."

  "To measure the boundary?" Giric asked.

  "That, and to look for renegades. One of the tenant farmers that I met the other day told me that he saw a man hiding in one of the caves in those hills a few days ago. He thought it might be one of the rebel Celts. That fellow we saw fighting the wolves could be one of them, since you and Al
ainna did not recognize him. I will continue to search. The rebels will be seeking support from the Highlanders in this area."

  Alainna cleared her throat. "Clan Laren does not support the MacWilliam cause. I speak as chief of my clan."

  "As it should be, but the rumors of rebels are persistent," Sebastien said. "There is at least one of them around here. The tenant said that he has heard that the MacWilliams are coming back from Ireland one by one."

  "I, too, have heard that," Father Padruig said. "One by one, each preparing the way for the rest, going quietly about the Highlands to raise support for their cause. Later they mean to gather together in a strong force."

  Alainna bit anxiously at her lower lip as she listened. She thought of Ruari, safely hidden on the little island; she could guess what Sebastien would think of that, but she wondered what the rest of her kinsmen would do if they discovered the truth. Would they support Ruari, or turn him over to the crown?

  "Ruari MacWilliam is gone," Giric said firmly, without looking at Alainna, "so the rebels have no leader in Scotland."

  "If he were alive he would come here," Niall said. "I wonder if his kinsmen seek supporters in our region."

  "They will not find it here," Lulach said. "We never followed Ruari in his clan's cause, though we would have watched his back because he was marriage kin to us."

  "Hush, all of you," Alainna said, leaning forward. "Do not let Esa hear you speak of Ruari." She glanced at Esa, who sat with Una, Morag, Beitris, and Niall's quiet wife, Mairi. Esa smiled graciously at those around her, the glow of happiness so evident on her face that Alainna smiled to herself, glad to have had some part in that joy.

  "Would you help him now, if he were here?" Sebastien asked.

  Alainna clasped her hands beneath the shadow of the table, grateful that Sebastien had looked at the men and not at her.

  "Ruari Mor was a great man," Lulach said. "A mighty warrior and a man who should have been a king, if kings were chosen for their worth and strength. I would not hesitate to help the man if I saw him here and now, and I would fight at his back to defend him. But I would not help his clan's cause."

  "I, too, would watch Ruari's back, were he but a ghost," Niall said. "I loved the man well. He had a lion's heart and a lion's pride. But the rest of his clan are hot-tempered and overproud, and I do not care for them."

  Alainna looked at Giric, and saw him watching her, somber and knowing. Beside her, Sebastien frowned thoughtfully.

  "It would not surprise me if Clan Nechtan is involved with the MacWilliams," Lulach said then.

  "Cormac claimed complete loyalty in his letter to the crown," Sebastien said. He glanced at Padruig. "Did you write out his petition for him?"

  "I did," Padruig answered. "He insists on his loyalty, and that much you know. As his priest, and as the grandfather of his little son, I cannot say more."

  "We can see in your face what you think," Niall said grimly. "You would not go far out of your way to defend the man."

  Padruig grabbed the bladder and took a drink, wiping his mouth and exhaling hard.

  Alainna leaned forward, eager to change the subject. Her heart leaped nervously at every mention of Ruari and Cormac. She hated to think that Ruari might have come back to the region only to seek support from Cormac. If that was so, her own loyalty would be badly torn.

  "Look there," Niall said. "Una and the rest of them are coming over here. They must be thinking it is time these two bound themselves further." He grinned at Sebastien.

  Alainna heard Una and Beitris laughing, and looked up to see several of her kinfolk rising from their seats to come toward their table. Most of them wore broad smiles and most were chattering at once. Esa moved among them too, tall and dignified.

  "We have yet to have the bedding of the bride, and it grows late," Una said, walking in the lead. She carried two folded plaids in her arms. "Stand up now, the pair of you!"

  Sebastien stood, stepping outside the bench, as Alainna did. She felt her stomach lurch, and her heartbeat grew fast and heavy.

  "A bedding for a handfasting is done differently than for a marriage," Beitris told Sebastien. She lifted the plaids out of Una's arms and handed one to him and the other to Alainna. "We will not escort you to the bedchamber with songs and blessings, for that is reserved for weddings. You two are to go outside, and find yourselves a place to be alone in one of the other buildings."

  "Or up the steps in Alainna's warm bedchamber, if you want to sneak past us," Morag added, smiling. "We will pretend not to see." She looked the other way pointedly, while laughter rippled around her.

  "We will not follow you," Una promised. "You will have your privacy to do what you will." She grinned, to more laughter.

  For all their delight, Alainna could not smile. Her cheeks grew hot. She glanced at Sebastien, and saw with surprise that his cheeks were stained rosy. She had never seen him blush before, although he was a fair man. He looked awkward, standing with the plaid in his arms as if he was not sure what to do with it.

  "We will not follow you," Lorne said. "But we will give you a seun, a charm of blessing. Come here, and stand with me." He beckoned to them.

  Alainna went toward him, as did Sebastien, while the rest stood back, creating a wide circle around them.

  Lorne lifted his hand. A length of red thread, knotted and strung with small, shining crystals, dangled from his fingers. He shook the string gently, so that it rang and sparkled.

  Alainna stood beside Sebastien while Lorne walked around them sunwise, and shook the string in a sweet rhythm. He recited a blessing as he moved, and Alainna closed her eyes and listened.

  Be the smooth path for the other

  Be the bright star for the other

  Be the kind eye for the other

  Be sun and moon for the other

  Be grace and peace for the other

  Be shield and strength for the other.

  He shook the string of crystals and circled them again.

  Each day be joyous

  No day be grievous

  All days be blessed

  And well and seven times well

  May you spend your days.

  Lorne stood still and let the crystals fall silent. Alainna felt the warmth of Sebastien beside her, and sensed his presence like a rock, like the fortress of the vows she had taken.

  Quiet lingered like a veil of peace. Alainna opened her eyes and saw her kinfolk watching her, smiling fondly, forming a wide circle around her and Sebastien. Lome had stepped back too. Standing among the Highlanders, the knights watched, their expressions somber and respectful, aware that they watched something sacred.

  She looked up at Sebastien. Shadows and firelight flickered across his sculpted profile. Then he turned his gaze upon her and tilted his head to indicate that it was time for them to leave the hall.

  She turned toward the door. The crowd parted like a wave of the sea as she and Sebastien moved forward together.

  Chapter 22

  In the starlit bailey, their breaths formed pale frosted clouds. Alainna was silent as she walked beside Sebastien, hearing the light strains of Lorne's music wafting out behind them.

  "We can go in here," she said as they neared her workshop. She opened the door and Sebastien entered behind her, ducking his head beneath the lintel.

  The room was cold, dim, and eerily silent, the carvings mute, pale presences on benches and tables. A faint red glow emanated from the brazier in the center of the room. Alainna crossed over to it, her footsteps crunching on the layer of stone chips. She grasped an iron poker and bent to coax the live coals to better brightness. After adding a few peat chunks, she brushed off her hands and straightened.

  She turned uncertainly. Sebastien crossed the room toward her, his boot soles loud on the crushed stone. He took a tallow candle from a shelf and hunkered down to light it at the brazier. Then, standing beside her, candle held high and folded plaid beneath his arm, he lifted his brow laconically.

  "Shall we sleep
here tonight?"

  She hugged the plaid to her chest. "I spend many nights here. It is cold just now, but it will soon be warmer." She watched him scan the room with his gaze: floor littered with stone chips, benches and tables crowded with carved and raw-cut stones, shelves full of iron and wooden implements, and a coating of fine, pale dust on nearly everything.

  "Cozy," he drawled.

  She laughed a little, and went to the far corner of the room, where she laid her plaid out on a long slab of pinkish sandstone, which rested, tablelike, on three stout wooden trestles, one end inclined a little higher than the other. Sebastien joined her, tossing his plaid down beside hers and setting the candle on a corner of the stone.

  "If you are tired and do not wish to go back into the hall to seek a bed, you can rest here." She patted the slab. "It is not an appealing bed, I know, but..." She let her voice trail off.

  He brushed his fingers over the slightly grainy surface. A border of knotwork, composed of interwoven lines in endless circles, had been carved in low relief to form a frame. The interior section was flat and blank.

  "Is this one of your projects?" he asked.

  "Malcolm began this," she said, touching the stone. "It is the last of the pink sandstone slabs that he brought here several years ago. The other pieces were made into the tombstones that you saw in the church." She frowned. "I hope I will never have to finish this carving."

  He nodded grimly. "The dog's pallet by the brazier will do fine for a bed."

  She wrinkled her nose, and half laughed. "If you like the company of fleas."

  He chuckled, the sound echoing among the stones in the room. "And if I went back to the hall, just where would I seek a bed?"

  "You could hardly take a pallet beside the other knights and my kinsmen. Not now."

  "True." He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the stone. "Do you not expect us to live as man and wife now that we are handfasted? It part of the custom."

  She crossed her arms too, a mirror of his pose, and leaned against the stone. "Couples who take handfasting vows also have the... privileges of marriage. But they are usually in love and eager to be married. They handfast until a priest can be summoned, and so the custom grew into a year and a day. We are fortunate to have a priest near Kinlochan, but it is not the case in much of the Highlands."