Beloved Ruins, Book 1

by Marti Talbott

  “Done,” said Rory. “When can you come?”

  Balric Verrall had a nice smile. He wore a beard and a mustache, as most men did, but the shape of his beard flattered the roundness of his face. “Now if you like. I shall fetch her and our belongings, and return shortly.”

  “Good.” Rory waited until the teacher was out of hearing. “There, that is settled.”

  “And Michael? He sent you for one and you bring back two masters and two children?”

  Rory grinned, “If he complains, I shall simply remind him he dinna say how many.”

  Lindsey giggled in spite of her distress, and then absentmindedly watched Murran pull the unbroken legs out of the square slots under the table top, and carry the remnants back to their cart. She suddenly remembered she was talking to Rory, she asked, “Has the clan been told they are to learn English?”

  “Sweet lass after my own heart,” Rory mocked, “do you doubt Kester has already told them?”

  Again she giggled. “I sold three of your belts, would you like the coins now or...”

  “Later. ‘Twill give me an excuse to visit.”

  At that, Lindsey dug in her pocket, counted the coins, and handed his share to him.

  “Again you break my heart?” he pouted.

  She put the other coins back in her pocket and then said, “Wait for me at the cart. I have somethin’ I have been longin’ to buy.”

  Rory ignored her request and followed her anyway. No telling what could happen to her in a crowded market place, and he meant to see nothing did.

  CHAPTER 4

  ALL IN ALL, IT WAS a good day at the market. When it was time to go home, the men put the broken table in the cart, and then added the belongings of Master Balric and his family, Lindsey’s basket of broken pottery, and the gift she managed to buy for Kester.

  To Murran and Rory’s surprise, it was Owen who suggested Master Balric’s niece and nephew ride in the cart instead of on a horse. He made a bed for them with his cloak, lifted first the little boy, then the girl, and got them both comfortably situated before he nodded for Murran to lead them home. Lindsey was not that surprised, for she saw nothing unpleasant about the stern man who frowned far more often than he smiled. In fact, she liked him, but then, she liked everyone. As soon as they were all set, Murran and Master Balric rode in front, with Lindsey behind them. She liked being able to watch the man she loved without drawing his attention. Unfortunately, the bothersome Rory was riding right beside her. Behind them an ox pulled the cart, and Owen, together with the Master’s sister, brought up the rear.

  “Another gift for Kester?” Rory asked.

  “Aye. She is too old to come to the market, and when I tell her of all the splendid things to be had, she dinna believe me. Therefore, I mean to show her.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you doubt Kester shall show it to all she meets on the morrow?”

  Rory laughed. “I do not.”

  “Then you must wait your turn.” She rode beside him in silence for a time, and then cupped her hand over her mouth hoping no one else could hear. “Why did Michael send Murran to protect me? He has never sent a lad before.”

  “Perhaps Michael thinks you growin’ old and needs be protected. Besides, bein’ unmarried still...”

  “Old?”

  “Are you not older today than yesterday?”

  “Aye, but not less wise. I still know to avoid your advances.”

  With a perplexed look on his face, Rory asked, “Why is that, do you think? I am a very good lad. Everyone says so, even Kester who has been chasin’ me with a broom since I was not yet five.”

  She giggled. “You and every other laddie in the clan.”

  “Whatever shall we do without her?”

  Lindsey’s smile abruptly faded. “I fret over that too. How very sad I shall be when she passes.”

  Rory raised an eyebrow. “I dinna mean to make you sad. On the other hand, ‘tis why you should marry me directly. I’ve a broad shoulder to cry on and...”

  “I believe the little boy is callin’ you,” she said as she turned on her horse to look back at the cart. Seems you have a friend – at last.”

  “Lindsey, do I not always go with you to market?”

  “Aye?”

  “And do I not always keep you safe?”

  “Aye, so far.”

  “When I cannae be with you, Michael sends another.”

  The light of recognition finally lit up her eyes. “Michael sends you?”

  “I would come anyway, but aye, Michael always sends a lad to keep you safe.” Rory pulled his horse around and went to see what little Samuel wanted.

  While Lindsey was still considering that, Master Balric’s sister pulled up alongside side her. “I am Elena. I do hope we can be friends.”

  Save for Kester, Lindsey had no close friends and was glad for the company, even if it meant not watching Murran as closely as she would have liked to. “Aye. You are a master like your brother?”

  “I am, although I am better at teaching children.” Elena looked back, saw Rory lift Samuel out of the cart and set the child in his lap. “Your friend likes children?”

  “I suppose he does. I dinna ask him. You have no husband the same as me?”

  “Mine passed, but I would like to marry.”

  “As would I.”

  “Tell me about your clan.” Elena asked.

  “Well, you shall like Laird Michael. I have only just learned that he sends a lad each market day to protect me. I never knew that before.”

  “He must be a very good lad.”

  “Aye and I love him. Everyone does. Are you English?”

  “By half,” Elena answered.

  Lindsey looked back at the man bringing up the rear. “Owen hates the English, though I know not why. I see nothin’ terrible in them.”

  “The English and the Scots have hated each other for generations. ‘Tis in their blood.”

  “Aye,” Lindsey muttered as she faced forward again. For once, Murran looked back, not particularly at her, but he did notice she was behind him. She smiled. What else could she do, and just as quickly he looked beyond her, checking to see if everyone was accounted for, she supposed. She tried not to, but her disappointment showed and when she looked, Elena was watching her. Lindsey shrugged and then did her best to cover her distress with a smile.

  MICHAEL HATED EATING supper alone. Therefore, when Lindsey went to market and Kester was by herself for the evening meal, he always asked her to eat with him. Since she never came without the dog, he had the cook save a ham bone with a few scraps of meat left on it, just for Birdie. As soon as the two of them came into the dining hall, the dog spotted the bone, lay down, and immediately started gnawing on it.

  “‘Tis more liveliness of spirit than I have seen in Birdie in a month’s time,” Kester said. She let Michael take the cloak off her shoulders, and then held on to his arm so she would not fall when she eased into a chair.

  Save for the tower guards and a guard he kept at the front castle entry, as soon as the meal was ready, Michael sent everyone to their own homes for the night. As well, he much preferred eating by candlelight instead of the cost and the smell of the oil lanterns. Since Kester’s aches and pains were many, he had a fire going in the hearth to keep her warm, which added still more light to the bright and cheerful room.

  Made especially for Galio, Michael’s grandfather, the oak table in the spacious dining hall had thick edges that displayed ornate carvings. The carvings extended down the outside of each of the table legs and the set of ten chairs were equally decorated. Serving tables along the wall were rarely used and instead sparingly displayed a gold vase or a single carved wooden challis. The room might have seemed considerably more cold and uninviting were it not for the bright colors in his large, handwoven rug.

  Instead of sitting at the head of the table, he chose the chair next to Kester’s and held a platter of food while she dished vegetables and a slice of ham onto h
er plate. “Tell me, are you well?”

  “I am quite well, and you?”

  “Aye.” He helped himself and then set the platter down. “Care for a spot of wine?”

  There was a good deal of suspicion in her eyes when Kester looked at him. “The kind that is more water than wine?”

  “Have I ever served you watered wine? Nay, I save that for the lads.”

  “Then I shall have some.”

  He took hold of the pitcher handle and began to fill her goblet. “How is Lindsey?”

  “Of all the lasses in the clan, ‘tis over Lindsey I fret the most.”

  “More even than your own granddaughters?”

  “My granddaughters are strong and wise in the ways of lads. Though I try to tell her, Lindsey is not.”

  “She needs a husband,” Michael said as he began to cut his meat.

  “Not just any husband and no matter how hard he tries, she will not have Rory. She loves another.”

  “Who?”

  “She will not say.” Kester brought the wine goblet to her lips and took the one and only sip she normally took. She reached for a matching goblet filled with water, and washed the taste of wine out of her mouth.

  It made Michael smile. “Does she fancy me?”

  “She says not, but I would fret less if ‘twas you who married her.” Kester set her goblet down and picked up her fork. “When your parents were first married, Laird Agan took your mother for long walks of an evenin’, and allowed no one to interfere. He so enjoyed his time with her that he made a habit of it and they loved each other to the very end.”

  “Aye they did. Even I was not allowed to interfere. Father was a good and wise laird.”

  “Yet you would not love Lindsey thusly so, would you?”

  Kester’s words hit their mark and Michael bowed his head. “I could try to love her thusly so.”

  Kester took a bite of cooked carrot, chewed and swallowed before she said, “Many a lad has tried to love his wife, just as many a lass has tried to love her husband. Dinna always turn out that way. If you dinna love Lindsey from the start, she would know and be miserable for it.”

  “What are you askin’ me to do?”

  “See that the lad she loves truly loves her.”

  Michael drew his head back and stared at his lifelong friend. “Are you sayin’ you shall not know long before I do?” He expected her to smile, but she was serious.

  “I might, then again, I might have passed.”

  “I’ll hear no talk of diein’ at my supper table.”

  “Very well, we shall talk of a wife for you. Michael MacGreagor, our castle is off-puttin’. We’ve a world filled with flowers, but not a one do I see in this room and have not since your mother passed.” She paused while he looked around as if he never once considered how drab it was. “You need a wife. Did you not see even one MacGreagor lass that caught your fancy on the ride you took today?”

  “And I would tell you if I did... because?”

  “Because when you fall in love, you shall need me to be certain she truly loves you in return.”

  He chuckled and then decided to change the subject. “The lads think to build a shop on the road to Edinburgh.”

  “What sort of shop?”

  Michael emptied his goblet of wine and then poured the remainder of hers into his. “Brandon means to sell our goods so we no longer have to haul them to market.”

  “Shall he also sell Lindsey’s pottery?” she asked.

  “I cannae see why not. The road is very well traveled, and kept in good condition.”

  “It needs widenin’ the last I saw of it.”

  “True.” He managed to get a few bites in before he spoke again. “Have you your heart set on a bridge over the river still?”

  “Not if it stands in the way of a shop for Lindsey.”

  “Good. I shall set the lads to helpin’ Brandon, and if they can build it quickly, perhaps she has taken her last journey to Edinburgh. I fret over her as much as you and find it distressin’ each time she goes. Any number of things can go amiss.”

  “Things are amiss right here at home,” Kester pointed out. “She spends day and night on her pottery and few come to see her. ‘Tis unnatural not to have many friends at her age.”

  “Aye, but most at her age are married. Does she say she misses havin’ more friends?”

  “When have you ever known Lindsey to complain?”

  Michael smiled. “Never.”

  “She...” Kester was interrupted when she heard a particular whistle outside. “Lindsey and the others must be home.”

  “The lads do not whistle when ‘tis one of us.”

  A moment later, he heard one of the tower guards racing down the stairs, and waited for him to report. “What is it?” He asked as soon as the guard opened the door.

  “A lad and a lass come alone.”

  “Without a guard?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you. Keep a close eye out for more this night.” He watched the guard nod, close the door, and then heard the same pounding sounds as the guard raced back up the stairs to man his position. Fearing he might not be able to finish his meal, Michael took another quick bite and listened to the pounding of hooves coming up the road.

  “‘Tis a bit late for a friendly visit,” Kester said. She too listened to the brief silence outside, and then the opening and closing of the door to the inner courtyard. When she heard the inside castle door open and then close, she was not surprised to see Michael stand up and walk to the side of the table nearest the door.

  Kester swallowed another bite of ham and then looked up just in time to watch a woman and then a man enter the dining hall. The woman, Kester noticed, kept her eyes glued to Michael’s as she slowly pushed the hood of her red cloak back, revealing the red of her hair and let the candles flicker in the green of her eyes. Her clothes were the clothes of a peasant, but her fur-lined red cloak signified money and plenty of it. Kester frowned, looked down at her food and decided not to let the strangers keep her from eating.

  AS STRUCK BY HER BEAUTY as any man would be, Michael forced his eyes away from her and nodded to the man. Instead of returning the nod, the stranger deeply bowed. “I am Osgar and this is Grizel of Clan Allardice. We have come to accept your kind offer of sanctuary.”

  The woman, Kester noticed, did not curtsey.

  “I see,” said Michael, “and when did I make this offer?”

  A full head shorter than Michael, Osgar was well dressed and looked genuinely shocked. “You dinna send word to us?”

  “How could I? I know not who you are,” said Michael. He turned his attention back to the woman with rosy cheeks and full red lips. When he realized he was staring, Michael dropped his gaze. “From whom do you require sanctuary?”

  “‘Tis...” she began.

  “A vile lad has vowed to kill her,” Osgar interrupted.

  “Why?” Michael asked, grateful for a reason to turn his attention again to the man. “What has she done?”

  “Done?” Grizel asked. “Nothin’ at all I assure you, save refusin’ to marry him.”

  “For this you must die?” Michael asked her.

  She appeared to be nearly in tears as she whispered, “Aye.”

  Still seated at the table, Kester set her fork down and folded her arms. There was nothing wrong with Kester’s sight and as far as she could tell, the woman’s eyes were a good bit dryer than the bone Birdie was chewing. “Dinna you think to kill him afore he killed you?” she asked.

  In a pitiful voice, Grizel answered, “He is much stronger than me.” She turned back to Michael, “Forgive me, but I tire. Might we stay the night at least?”

  Michael might have made arrangements for the two of them to stay in one of the empty cottages, but just then the door opened again and Rory entered. “I’ve good news,” he blurted out before he realized Michael had guests. When he too noticed Grizel’s beauty, his mouth fell open, and it took him even longer than it had Mi
chael to recover. “Forgive me, I...”

  “Good news?” Michael asked.

  Rory went back to the dining hall door, opened it, and motioned for his guests to enter. “I present for your approval, though I have already struck a bargain on your behalf, Master Balric Verrall, his sister Elena and her two children, Samuel and Brenna.”

  Michael nodded to the pleasant looking woman and then looked at the man. “You have agreed to teach us English?”

  Master Baldric nodded. “I have, and I am pleased to have the position.”

  When Michael looked down, the little girl was tugging on his long pants. Michael smiled. She looked to be about five years old, had curly blonde hair, and had her mother’s big brown eyes. “Aye?”

  “I am thirsty,” she said in English.

  Michael wrinkled his brow. “What does she say?”

  “She wishes a drink of water,” Master Balric explained.

  Michael leaned down and picked the child up. “I believe we have just what you want. He carried her to the table, picked up his water goblet, and helped her hold it while she drank.

  “Thank you,” said she, also in English.

  “She dinna speak Gaelic?” Michael asked.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “She does, Brenna is simply trying to amaze you.”

  “‘Tis workin’,” Michael whispered as he grinned at her mother. The little girl giggled, and then went into her mother’s arms. “Where might your husband be?” he asked Elena.

  “Lost to us before Samuel was born,” Elena put her free hand on her son’s shoulder as if to comfort him, although Samuel did not look old enough to remember the loss of his father.

  “How very sad,” said Grizel.

  Still gawking at the beauty, Rory managed to say, “Elena has agreed to teach the children while her brother teaches us.”

  Michael frowned. “Tell me, am I to pay them both?”

  “How considerate of you,” Rory said without batting an eye. “I was hopin’ you would offer. They can live here...in the castle, can they not?”

  Michael finally smiled. “I would have it no other way. You are Samuel,” he said to the little boy. “How old might you be?” The little boy held up four fingers.