Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles)

by Rue Allyn

Henry gulped. “Only Sir Broc that I saw. And one other man who came in after I was in the cupboard. I could nae see him, and he kept his voice low. I could hear, but I’d nae know his voice.”

  “Did Lady Agnes address the man by name?”

  Henry shook his head. “I’d ha remembered.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Before the man I didna know came in, Lady Agnes was shoutin’ at Sir Broc. Tellin’ him they were ... undone. Which makes nae sense to me. But she was in a lather because while she was away in the village a cat had knocked her precious box on the floor and it broke open, spilling out everything. I’d been trying to put it all back before Lady Agnes returned, but I wasna quick enough. She thought I was the one who broke the box so I could steal her things. But I wouldna want those musty old letters, and her rings and earbobs are copper covered over with silver. Who would want such cheap, ugly stuff?”

  Colin suppressed a grin. “None I ken, Henry. When she found you, she hit you and locked you in the cupboard?”

  “Boxed me ears, too, she did. It hurt somethin’ powerful ‘cause she was angrier than I’d ever seen her.”

  “Did Sir Broc hit you too?”

  Henry shook his head and sniffed. “Sir Broc just watched her like she were some sort of dog worritin’ a bone and would quiet sooner if left to wear herself out.”

  “When you were in the cupboard did they talk?”

  “Nae at first. Sir Broc likes it when she’s angry. He allus wants her to lift her skirts so he can rut on her. She was so angry she fought him, but he’s stronger so he had his way. After, she was calmer but still worried.

  “That’s when the other man came in. He and Sir Broc talked a bit about some horses going to Lancaster and Lady Agnes traveling ahead to make arrangements there. The other man apologized for failing in his second task.

  “Lady Agnes cursed him for a fool and said it no longer mattered then dismissed him. She’d been going through the letters from her box, while Sir Broc and the other man spoke. She told Sir Broc they had to leave now, instead of tomorrow—which would have been yesterday. According to her, someone had put a false letter among her things and was trying to frame her as a spy, and if anyone looked too closely they might discover she’d tried to poison you.”

  Colin stiffened. “She tried to poison me?”

  “Sir Broc told her she was a fool for doing so, even though he’d brought her more of the things she wanted from the larder. But she said you were sick and weak and no one would have known if it had nae been for your bitch of a wife, interfering and saving your worthless life—beggin’ your pardon, Lady Sorcha. Lady Agnes complained that she’d never get back into Edward’s favor if she could nae hand him Strathnaver on a platter. Though how she could do that I dinna know. For Strathnaver’s bigger than any platter I ever saw.”

  Colin smiled and rubbed the boy’s head. “You’re right, Henry. She could never have given Strathnaver to anyone. Do you ken why?”

  Henry blanched and his returning color faded. “Be ...because I’m nae her son?”

  “That’s right. Do you mind very much?”

  The lad shook his head vehemently. “Nae at all. I’m glad she’s nae me maither.”

  “Do you ken who your mother is?”

  Henry shook his head. “I’m nae sure I have one.”

  Colin hugged the boy. “You have one, Henry, I guarantee it. Would you like me to find her for you so you can meet her, if she is alive?”

  Henry sat silent for a long time, plucking at one corner of the pillow. “I don’t think so. She must not have wanted me very much to let a woman like Lady Agnes take me.”

  “She may not have had a choice,” Sorcha interjected softly and put a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

  Henry shook his head. “Whoever my maither is, she could be better than Lady Agnes. She might even miss me a little bit. But she could also be worse than Lady Agnes. Except for having to pretend to be her son—and the beatings, of course—I like it here at Strathnaver, and would stay if you would let me.”

  “We’ll find a place for you here, lad, and discuss it another day. Now go with Sir Ranulf. He’ll take you to the kitchens and get you fed then arrange for you to bathe.”

  Henry stood and bowed to Sorcha then turned to Colin. “Must I bathe, your lordship? The maids say bathing can kill a body, and even Lady Agnes only ever washed her face and hands.”

  “I wash every day,” Colin said. “Do you want to be like me or like Lady Agnes and the maids?”

  Henry nodded. “All right. I’ll bathe, every day as you do. But I’d like to eat first. I’m powerful hungry.”

  Ranulf took the boy by the shoulder. “Never fear, lad. I’ll make certain you get to eat your fill before you have to face the dreaded bathing tub.”

  “Thank you, Lord Brice, for listening to me and letting me stay at Strathnaver.”

  “You are welcome, Henry. After your bath, I think you should stay with the Master of Horse until we can decide more permanent arrangements. Ranulf, find Robert, then both of you join Sorcha and me in the main hall once you’ve settled Henry. Raeb MacKai will be arriving soon, and I would have him know who I have at my back.”

  Ranulf’s eyelids lowered, and he nodded then guided Henry to the door. As they passed the spot where Sorcha’s pallet had been, the boy frowned.

  “Wait a moment, please,” Henry said. He ran to Sorcha and tugged on her skirt. “My lady, did you find the ring I left for you in your pallet? I gave it you to thank you for being so nice to me. You didna have to be.”

  Colin felt the blood drain from his face. Sorcha should be gloating at him—and she probably would later—but now she was smiling at Henry. “Aye, lad, the ring was found. ʼTwas too large for me to wear, so my husband wears it for me.”

  Henry eyed Colin then nodded. “He’s a good man, so that’s all right then.”

  Sorcha hugged the lad. “Thank you.”

  He fought out of the embrace in little boy fashion, “Your welcome but ʼtis nae need to squash a body t’death. I’ll be going now.” He rejoined Ranulf and the two left.

  “Sorcha, muirnean, thank you for rescuing Henry. I gather it was his cries that caused the maids to think the chamber haunted.”

  “Aye.”

  His face heated under her steady gaze. “Do you wish to say you told me so? You may. I promise nae to get angry.”

  “I’ll save the privilege for the next time you act like a horse’s arse. ’Tis interesting that Lady Agnes thought she was being framed as a spy. Do you suppose the chamberlain put the letter he wrote among her things to distract us?”

  “Perhaps she truly is conspiring with Sir MacClaren and didna want Sir Broc to know. Regardless, we know where they and the horses are headed. The only way for her to get to Lancaster before the herd is to go by ship, and the closest port is Dungarob. Think you your brother would assist us to keep Lady Agnes from traveling?”

  “’Tis possible, we must ask him when he arrives.”

  Colin longed to grasp her and pull her onto his knees to nibble on her neck. “With Coillteach and MacBirnum also arriving soon, our traitors are beginning to sweat and must either decamp or direct attention away from themselves. Lady Agnes’s English background makes her the perfect target.”

  Sorcha stood and shook out her skirts. “We’ve little time before Raeb gets here. If we wish to present a confident image, we’d best prepare ourselves and go down to await his arrival.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  All of Clan Marr stood mustered in Strathnaver’s great hall. Baldricks and sword hilts gleamed. Above somber skirts and hose, tunics shone with the bright white of newly made garments. The finest wool wraps were belted at every waist, draped across every shoulder, pinned with the hawk-feathered clan badge, and worn with the extreme pride of Clan Marr.

  Sorcha felt pride, too, despite her worries. Pride in the respect the Marr clansmen’s appearance gave to Clan MacKai. Pride in the clean rushes, whitewashed walls, g
leaming appointments, and the rich scents resulting from more than a week of labor and cooperation between her and the Marrs. Pride in the pipers—one from each clan—who skirled a thrilling duet of Highland tunes. Pride in her brother and his men who had adorned themselves with honors to equal the Marrs—if a tad threadbare. Pride in Colin’s strong yet gracious demeanor.

  Gone was the sneering, though pretended, sarcasm of the night he announced the impending visit from the MacKais. Gone were his insulting suspicions of his faux wife. Suspicions that proved truer than either he or she intended—though nae about their passion for each other. That had never been in doubt, and to her shame increased daily, making her doubt her decision to leave when she knew staying would bring nothing but sorrow to all concerned. For marriage, to an earl or a peasant, was about more than the two who wed. Marriage was about family and betterment for all. Peace with the MacKais or no, if she wed Colin, her inheritance would revert to him, leaving her penniless. With no dowry and poverty rampant throughout Dungarob, Clan Marr would see a marriage between her and Colin as a drain on their coffers. And none would trust her once Brice’s death was revealed. They would nae want her for their countess, and she would nae remain without marriage.

  In place of suspicion between MacKai and Marr existed a truce—a sort of peace. Clan Marr believed that the dangers encountered from the rampaging horses had brought about a reconciliation between earl and countess. Sorcha had visibly and loudly snubbed Robert and blamed him for misleading her about his married state. He now flirted with a flock of other women.

  Raeb, leading his men, entered the hall, coming to a stop before the dais.

  Colin, still pretending to be Brice, descended the short stairs to stand before her brother. He placed a hand on each of Raeb’s shoulders. Reab followed suit, and they exchanged a formal kiss of peace, brushing their cheeks together, once on the right, once on the left.

  Their hands dropped to their sides. Colin signaled a page forward. As a start to his training as a squire, Henry had been given the honor and carried a large velvet pillow on which rested a gleaming long sword of steel worked in the Damascus manner with a single, large red agate set into the end of the hilt. Heather wrapped the hilt and ancient words were etched into the blade. Colin grasped the sword by the blade, held it up and read the inscription.

  “Brother in peace, brother in war, one sword, one blood, faithful forever.” He gripped the blade in his off hand and scored his right palm. The keen metal edge broke the skin and bright blood welled. “Marr sheds its blood in protection and support of all its brothers and sisters.”

  He passed the blade to Raeb, who did the same, and repeated the pledge. “Mackai sheds its blood in protection and support of all its brothers and sisters.”

  The men gripped the hilt together, letting their blood mingle.

  “I gift you the Brother Blade, a symbol of the peace and love Marr bears toward MacKai from this day forward. May God have mercy on our souls,” Colin swore.

  “I accept the Brother Blade as a symbol of the peace and love MacKai bears toward Marr from this day forward.” The sword was placed back on the pillow Henry carried. He took it to Raeb’s squire, and, to the skirling of pipes, the lads went off together to clean the blade and store it among Raeb’s belongings.

  Colin and Raeb clasped forearms.

  “Welcome back to Strathnaver, my friend.”

  “’Tis glad I am to be here.” Raeb’s glance met Sorcha’s, and she quailed inwardly. Anger lay carefully banked in his eyes, and his smile was brittle. He was making a show for the clans. She would have her work cut out to convince him that the peace Colin offered was true and firm. For Raeb would nae like what he would hear when she and Colin finally found privacy and time to tell him the truth.

  “Come.” Colin gestured to all. “Let us feast and celebrate the brotherhood between our clans.”

  He brought Raeb to the dais and introduced him to Ranulf and Robert while the trestles were assembled, the clans seated, and the food brought in.

  “So I hear you left Davey at Dungarob with your sisters?” Ranulf sipped his wine.

  Raeb gave a smile that didna meet his eyes. “Your friend had a small accident that kept him from riding.”

  “Hmm,” Ranulf looked into his cup. “I’m certain he’ll recover quickly with six of Clan MacKai’s seven jewels to care for him.”

  Raeb nodded and turned to Robert.

  “What is an Englishman doing this far north?”

  The man shrugged and smiled. “I’ve shared interests with the earl.” He lifted his cup toward Colin.

  “You are new friends then?” Raeb asked.

  “Fairly so. Strathnaver’s earl played a large part in helping me win my bride.” Robert cast a sly glance at Colin. “For that courtesy, I owe him a great deal.”

  “I canna imagine Brice playing Cupid.”

  “’Twas nae quite like that.” Colin glowered. “Let us just say that challenges were exchanged at one point.”

  Raeb raised his brows and opened his mouth to speak.

  “At my wedding, he challenged me to settle the debt with a duel of drink,” Robert interjected.

  Raeb grinned. “You must have been upset when he won.”

  Robert colored. “Sadly, that bout ended in a draw.”

  “Oh ho, I would have liked to see that.”

  “When we came to the next day we decided that fate must want us to be friends, since neither of us could seem to best the other.”

  Raeb saluted the man with his cup then drank. When he put his cup down he turned to Ranulf. “You are Ranulf of Clan MacFearann?”

  MacFearann? ’Tis no possible. What is my brother doing?

  “Aye. You must ask Robert what resulted when they indulged in a fistfight,” Colin said.

  Sorcha frowned. Was her husband trying to put Raeb off of asking questions? She certainly would do so if she were such a fool as to call a MacFearann friend.

  “I will someday. Right now I’m more interested in how the eldest son of Finn MacFearann, the most hated man in Scotland, comes to be welcome at Strathnaver. ʼTis nae a, shall we say, friendship I as a brother should wish for my sister.” Raeb shifted, including Colin in the veiled accusation.

  Colin shrugged.

  The big man lowered his eyelids. “I am nae my father.”

  Sorcha could feel the tension rising. She dinna ken who to support, but Colin’s tactic seemed to be the right one. “Come sit beside me, Raeb, and tell me of my sisters.” She begged with her eyes for him to agree.

  Raeb studied her for a while then nodded to Ranulf. “You will pardon me, I am sure. I must attend my sister.”

  “Of course.” Ranulf stood and left.

  All through her conversation with Raeb, Sorcha was distracted, but she nodded and smiled or frowned appropriately at the antics he related of their sisters.

  She’d had nae idea Ranulf was that Ranulf. Their introduction had been so hurried she could nae recall if his surname had been given. The MacFearann clan was small but justly feared for its violent reprisals against any who crossed or offended the clan, and the family wasna beyond using deceit in pursuit of its goals. With that history of violence and lies to his name, ʼtwas a wonder how Ranulf had earned a place as Colin’s loyal friend.

  Had Colin always known Ranulf’s history? Did this news add weight to the suspicions they both had about the big knight?

  • • •

  ʼTwas much later when Raeb followed her and Colin through the now empty hall and up the stairs.

  “I am glad to hear that all is well with our sisters.” Sorcha opened the door to the earl’s chamber.

  “I am glad to report it.”

  Colin showed Raeb to the armchair by the hearth and sat beside him on a stool.

  Sorcha closed and locked the door then joined the men at the hearth.

  “Enough about family and friends. Tell me what goes forward that Marr would willingly offer peace to MacKai, and how it is the Ea
rl of Strathnaver counts a villainous MacFearann among his friends.”

  She and Colin exchanged a look before she broke the silence. “Brice is dead.”

  Raeb nodded. “So you wrote in your letters. ’Tis hard to credit, though. You do a verra good job of pretending to be him, Colin. Why?”

  “The pretense has been necessary because Brice betrayed Scotland and allowed a nest of traitors to work from Strathnaver,” Colin said.

  “You have evidence of this?”

  Sorcha nodded and told him all of the events of the past weeks, including the threats Brice made against the MacKais.

  “You’ll recall I forbade the marriage.”

  “You could nae stop me.”

  “Should haves and could haves are pointless. We must focus on how best to catch the traitors and find the letter from King Philip,” Colin said.

  “Your messenger said Coillteach and MacBirnum are coming here?”

  “Aye, we expect them at any moment.”

  “Would either of them be able to help? They are both Guardians.”

  And Colin believed MacBirnum to be the greatest spy of all. ʼTwas information she felt Raeb should know, but ʼtwas nae hers to tell. How much would Colin trust Raeb?

  Her faux spouse pressed his lips together, and his hands formed fists on his lap. “Coillteach is the head of the Scots who work to spoil England’s attempts at subterfuge, and those who search out traitors supporting Edward Plantagenet. I have been working for him since I left here ten years ago. That work has given rise to suspicions that MacBirnum’s loyalties are nae with Scotland.”

  Raeb leaned back, his eyes wide. “ʼTis disturbing news to hear that King John’s own family plots against him.”

  “Aye, which makes discovering the traitors at Strathnaver all the more urgent. For they may be persuaded to offer the proof Coillteach has been unable to obtain of MacBirnum’s treason.”

  “Regrettably,” Colin continued, “my work at Strathnaver has forced Sorcha into a dangerous position. I hoped you would accept the invitation primarily for Sorcha’s sake. You can protect her against any Marrs who might still resent having a MacKai as their countess, but you canna keep her from harms you have nae knowledge of.”