Highland Covenant

by Scott, B. J.

  “That explains how you made the journey, but na how you managed to get inside a well-guarded stronghold,” Lazarus said.

  “It was late when I arrived at the castle, and decided it best to wait until morning to announce my presence,” Franc explained. “I could not be certain I had the right place, so decided to bed down in the woods behind the keep and seek out the owner in the morning.”

  The crease in Lazarus’s forehead deepened. “But how did you get inside the curtain wall unnoticed, then into the stable?”

  “As I searched for a spot to rest, I noticed the postern gate was ajar. You can imagine my surprise when I found it was unlocked.”

  “Aye. And I will make a point of finding out who left it that way, then see them duly punished. It was fortuitous for you, but it willna happen again. You can be certain of it,” Lazarus declared. “The security of Fraser Castle isna something you need concern yourself with. You have traveled far, my friend, and I assume you came for the chalice.”

  Franc nodded. “Oui. Do you still have it?”

  “The chalice is safe, just as I vowed it would be,” Lazarus replied. “When you dinna come for it in La Rochelle as planned, and I thought you were dead, I brought it home with me to Scotland. Upon my return, I hid it, and told no one it existed, na even my wife or my brothers.” Lazarus uncapped his wineskin and brought it to Franc’s lips. “Drink now. There will be plenty of time to talk about the chalice when you are feeling stronger. My youngest brother’s wife, Fallon, is the clan healer, and I will ask her to see to your injuries.”

  Grasping the flagon with both hands, Franc drank greedily, then flopped back against the bale of straw. “We need to discuss the chalice now.” He narrowed his gaze. “I was shocked to learn you have brothers and took a wife? When first we met, you told me you had no family, that you were an orphan raised by the monks in Berwick, and intended to return to them.”

  “It was the truth, or so I thought.” Lazarus rocked back on his heels and raked his fingers through his hair. “I never knew about my family, or my past until I returned to Scotland and was holed up in the monastery.”

  “It is hard to believe that you found your family after being alone for so long,” Franc said. “And that your brothers just showed up to claim you as their long-lost sibling.”

  “There was a lot more to it than that. But it is a long story, my friend, and one best told over a tankard of ale.” Lazarus patted Franc on the back, then asked, “How did you find me and learn about my brothers?”

  “When I arrived in Scotland, I met with an Edinburgh merchant named Claude Monnet. A dear friend told me before I left France to seek him out, and that he might be of assistance in locating you. He told me where to find you.”

  “I dinna know Claude Monnet, and I have na been to Edinburgh since my return to Scotland. In fact, I dinna remember ever going there before I left for the Holy Land either.” The creases in Lazarus’s brow deepened, and a distinct expression of concern crossed his face. “How does he know my whereabouts?”

  “There is no need to worry. He is one of us, and will not tell anyone who you are or where you live.” Franc rested his hand on Lazarus’s forearm. “A former Templar, it turns out that he is also a part of the sacred covenant formed to protect the treasure,” Franc told him. “Claude serves as an important link between the knights who escaped from France and England seeking refuge in Scotland and those who will harbor them.”

  “That doesna explain how he knows so much about me and my family.”

  “He has many close contacts in France and in Scotland,” Franc said. “He told me how the French agents followed you to the monastery in Berwick, then took the young brother of a whore prisoner and threatened to kill him if you dinna surrender yourself.”

  Lazarus lifted a brow. “Go on.”

  “Monnet told me they beat you to within an inch of your life and if not for the Frasers, you would be dead. He also said they turned out to be your long-lost brothers and that they brought you home to live with them at Fraser Castle.”

  Lazarus’s jaw clenched, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “I have gone to great lengths to protect my family from Philip’s henchmen, so it disturbs me to learn Monnet knows so much about me, and is willing to disclose the information to anyone who inquires.”

  Franc fully understood Lazarus’s concerns and anger, but had Monnet not given him the information he needed, locating him on his own and with no idea where to start would have been near to impossible.

  “As I said, Monnet is highly revered, and knows how important it is to protect the hiding places of Templars in Scotland. If not for my need to retrieve the chalice, and see it to its destination, he would have told me nothing.” Francois did his best to offer reassurance, but judging by the skeptical expression that continued to contort Lazarus’s features, he’d failed to ease his mind.

  “What else did he tell you?” Lazarus snapped.

  After filling his friend in on everything he’d learned from Monnet, Franc paused to suck in a ragged breath.

  “That about sums it up. However, na all the details are correct. The lad’s sister was na a whore. She is his mother and is now my wife,” Lazarus said. “But there is something else I find troubling.”

  “What?”

  “If Monnet is trustworthy and his shop is the Templar haven you claim, how did you come to be injured? Boasting a French name, does he na have to fear for his own safety?”

  “Monnet is under the protection of King Robert the Bruce, but as I quickly learned after we parted company, it does not prevent King Philip’s guards from entering Scotland unannounced, nor does it stop them from hunting us down.” Franc said. “His shop provides a temporary landing and is by no means a haven. And while he is willing to help the brethren by providing information upon their arrival and can suggest safe places to hide, once you leave, there are no guarantees.”

  “Leaving you at the mercy of the French scoundrels,” Lazarus growled. “The reason I no longer trust anyone but my family.”

  “I dinna blame you for being cautious,” Franc said. “When detained by the relentless buggers, I told them that the treasure was a myth and did not exist. They of course refused to believe me and beat me until I passed out.”

  “Lousy bastards.” Lazarus cursed, then offered his friend the wineskin again.

  Franc took a sip of water, then handed the flagon back to Lazarus. “They left me for dead, and before they had a chance to realize their mistake, I had managed to crawl off to lick my wounds.”

  “You were lucky they left you for dead and dinna bury you alive.”

  “Men without souls or conscience do not worry about giving a man a decent burial. They would rather leave their prey for the wild animals to devour, or better yet, as a symbol of what happens to those who defy them,” Franc said. “I was discovered by a crofter and he brought me to his home where his sister did what she could for me. I dinna want to put them at risk any longer than necessary, so as soon as I felt strong enough to travel, I left and continued to search for you.”

  Lazarus rose and offered Franc his hand, then tucked his other arm around his waist. “Departing for their protection was a noble gesture, but judging by the battered look of you and your weakened state, leaving your sickbed as soon as you did wasna wise.” Lazarus carefully hoisted Franc to his feet. “Right now, I need to get you into the castle. We can talk more after Fallon looks after you. Can you walk?”

  Using the last of his strength, Franc shoved Lazarus away, but wavered on his feet. He grabbed the wooden rail for support, then caught Lazarus’s gaze. “I canna ask you to put your family in danger. The French soldiers could show up at any time to finish the interrogation they started and take you prisoner as well. If you will just let me rest a bit, then bring me to the chalice, I will be on my way.”

  �
��You are na going anywhere but to bed. The blackguards willna get into the Fraser stronghold. I will triple the guard if necessary.” He hooked his arm around Franc’s waist. “Lean on me.” This time when Lazarus tried to help Franc to walk, he offered no resistance. “This is Scottish soil and regardless of what they believe, the French have no rights to invade our home.”

  “That may be, but I willna take the risk by lingering here any longer than necessary. Once I have retrieved my piece of the treasure, I will continue to the north in search of Clan Sinclair.” Franc managed to take a few steps before his legs buckled and he crumpled to his knees.

  Lazarus squatted beside him and rested his hand on Franc’s back. “Until you are well enough to travel, you are staying here, and I willna take nay for an answer.”

  Franc knew that Lazarus was not about to back down, and he didn’t have the strength to argue any longer, or to travel. “I will stay the night, but will leave on the morrow,” he conceded.

  “Good. Now let us get you into the Castle.”

  Lazarus tried to help him to his feet again, but when Franc tried to stand, his head began to spin, and his legs gave out.

  Chapter 6

  “I am sorry if you think I am being difficult, but I dinna understand why you have to go with him, Lazarus. Have you na had enough adventure and taken enough risks in your life?”

  The soft lilt of the lass’s voice filtered through Francois’s clouded thoughts, causing him to stir. He struggled to open his eyes to focus on Lazarus and a woman standing near the hearth.

  “There are things a man doesna share with anyone. Na even his wife,” Lazarus said. “I made a promise, swore an oath. If not for him, I wouldna have gotten out of the French prison alive.”

  “I can appreciate your gratitude, and I too am thankful he saved you from execution. But those days are in the past, and your life is here now, na on some desert fighting Muslins in the name of the Pope and a miscreant French king. Please reconsider this thing you plan to do,” she pleaded.

  “I owe this man my life, and am forever in his debt,” Lazarus repeated. “In my weakened state, most men would have left me behind, but na Franc. He stayed by my side until he found me a place to hide, putting his own safety at risk. He needs me, and I’ll na turn my back on him.”

  “Why must so much about your past be shrouded in mystery? I thought you trusted me.”

  “This isna a simple matter of trust.”

  “What about the babe, Quinn, and me? We need you too,” she said, her voice wavering. “I am your wife and you know that anything said between us will remain so. Help me to understand.”

  “I am sorry, but I canna tell you why he is here, just that he needs me, and I plan to go with him.”

  Francois grunted to clear his throat, and to let Lazarus know he was awake and privy to their argument. Given her harsh words and tone, the woman’s ire was obvious, and he hated to think he was the cause of their discord. “I . . . do not want to interrupt, and I surely did not mean to cause a fight between you.”

  The couple ceased their discussion and hurried to his bedside. “It is good to see you are awake. I dinna know if you’d make it or na.”

  “Lazarus, I need to speak with you alone. Please.” Franc squinted to focus on his friend’s face. His head pounded and even his hair hurt, but he did his best to stay awake.

  “Try na to talk, my friend. You need to rest.” Lazarus turned to his wife. “Can you find Fallon and tell her that he is awake?”

  “I will go now,” she replied, then rested her hand on Franc’s hand and smiled. “My name is Sheena, and I am verra pleased to see you are feeling better. You gave us all a scare.” She turned and padded toward the door.

  Lazarus waited until she’d left the room, then returned his attention to Franc. “My wife.”

  “I gathered that. She is lovely. You are a lucky man,” Franc said, then began to cough and immediately braced his ribs with his forearm. “When you found me in the stable, I wasna sure if you were real or if I had just dreamed the whole thing.”

  “I am verra real, but I also told you na to talk. You likely have some broken ribs, along with your other injuries. The French soldiers did a lot of damage, but Fallon said that in time you should mend.”

  “Fallon?” Confused, Franc scrubbed a shaky hand across his chin. “Did your wife not just tell me that her name is Sheena?”

  “Fallon is the clan healer. She inherited the talents from her mother, and she is also da shealladh, a seer. She will know when the time is right for you to depart, and until then, you must rest.”

  “Unlike you Scots, I am na a superstitious man. There is no time to lay around in bed when I must see the chalice gets to its destination.” Franc tried to throw off the layer of plaid and pelts that were covering him, so he could get up, but Lazarus grabbed the blankets.

  “Leave those be. You need to stay warm and in bed.” Lazarus slid his hand under Franc’s head and offered him a drink. After Franc took a sip, he lowered his head to the pillow, frowning. “You’re as thrawn as ever,” Lazarus said. “Get up now, and you willna make it to the door afore you crumple to the floor in a heap.”

  “Stubbornness has nothing to do with this and you know it.” Franc gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling. He knew Lazarus was right, but he had spent more than a fortnight in bed immediately after the attack. And another three days traveling to Beauly. “I am aware of my condition, but I have already wasted too much time in bed as a result of this beating, and I have no intention of staying here and putting your family at risk.” He tried to sit up, but Lazarus pressed a hand to his shoulder, stopping him.

  “I came here to retrieve the chalice, not to put you or your family in danger,” Franc said. “You know as well as I do that King Philip’s soldiers are relentless and will not give up until they get what they are looking for. Nor will they hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way. Bring it to me, and I will leave.”

  Lazarus crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “You are na going anywhere. Fraser Castle is one of the most secure strongholds in all the Highlands. You dinna have to fash, you are safe and so are my family.” He leaned down and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The chalice is na here in the castle.”

  “What do you mean it is not here? You told me you had it somewhere safe.”

  Lazarus raised his hand. “It is. Once you are well, we can retrieve it, then if you still wish to leave, you can be on your way.”

  “I am sorry.” Franc lowered his gaze. “I did not mean to imply you would let anything happen to it, but Philip’s agents will not stop hunting for me until they get the chalice, and I thought you would keep it close.”

  “Aye, Philip’s soldiers are heartless swine,” Lazarus said. “Dinna forget that I too have felt their wrath, and barely lived to tell about it. That is why I hid the chalice as soon as I returned to Scotland, and I have never mentioned the treasure or my part in getting the sacred goblet out of France to anyone.”

  “I’m pleased to see you’re finally awake.” A striking dark-haired woman entered the chamber and approached the bed.

  “Finally?” Franc raised a brow and shot an inquisitive glance at Lazarus.

  Lazarus shrugged. “You have slept for three days.” He gestured toward the woman. “This is Fallon, my sister-by-marriage.”

  “You have more color to your cheeks than you did when Lazarus hauled you in here from the stable.” Fallon halted beside the bed, then pressed her hand to his brow. “Your fever has also broken, but that doesna mean you are out of danger. Once I have checked you over, I will brew some willow bark tea, then have it sent up to you. It will keep the fever at bay and help with the pain.” She opened a small pouch and poured the contents into a tankard and brought it to his lips. “In the meantime, drink this.”

 
While his mouth was as dry as wood, Franc was leery about drinking the malodorous elixir when he didn’t know what it contained. He was sure she meant well, and was every bit as knowledgeable as Lazarus claimed, but he needed his wits about him, and he wanted to be on his way as soon as possible.

  “What is this? It smells wretched.” Franc crinkled his nose at the putrid aroma wafting from the tankard.

  Fallon grinned as she brought the mug to his lips again. “My husband said the same thing the first time I tried to give this to him. Despite the wounds he suffered in a skirmish with English soldiers, he called me a witch and accused me of trying to poison him.” She chuckled aloud, then her expression turned serious. “This special blend of herbs has been passed down from mother to daughter for many years. I admit the smell is bad, but it does work. Lazarus can attest to it as well.”

  Lazarus bobbed his head. “She is right.”

  “You have actually been taking it regularly since I started to treat you. However, until now, I had to give you smaller amounts than I would like, using a spoon.” She nodded toward a wooden bowl and ladle on the bedside table. “Now that you are awake, I thought it would be easier to administer, and more effective if you drink it.”

  “Believe me when I say that Fallon knows much about the healing arts. I wouldna hesitate to trust her with my life and that of my family,” Lazarus said. “I would also do as she says and drink the brew. She may be a wee snip of a lass, but I have it on good authority, she can be fierce as a cornered wildcat when she needs to be.” He threw back his head and laughed.

  Fallon frowned. “My husband needs to hold his wheesht.”

  “You know as well as I do, lass, my brother has nary been known to hold his tongue. He says what he thinks and worries about the consequences later.” Lazarus snickered.