by Diana Cosby
Elspet glanced at the priest. “Expecting him?”
“A fortnight ago, your stepfather delivered a missive from…” The priest hesitated.
“King Robert,” she said, understanding shimmering in her eyes, “informing you that Sir Cailin was alive and would be returning to claim his rightful inheritance.”
The priest’s face paled. “You know of your stepfather’s loyalty to Scotland’s king?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Given the circumstances,” Cailin said, “I explained.”
Elspet touched the woven leather hanging around her neck. “After my stepfather’s visit, he was worried. Why?”
On a sigh, the elder walked to a bottle of wine. He poured three glasses, handed Cailin one, then another to her. “With the Earl of Dalkirk determined to keep what he stole many years ago, Sir Angus was concerned for you, for your family’s safety in the confrontation once Sir Cailin arrived.”
The glass in her hand began to shake, and she began to sway.
Cailin caught her, then set her goblet aside.
The priest’s eyes narrowed on the strips of cloth binding her leg. “You are hurt?”
“I am fine.”
“Far from it.” The priest gestured to a nearby chair. “Sit.”
“Father Lamond, my stepfather is dead.”
The priest caught the back of a chair. “God in heaven.” Grief filled his eyes. “I am so sorry, lass. Angus was a fine man.”
“He was,” she rasped. “Nor did he die alone.”
“What happened?” the cleric asked.
“Lord Dalkirk charged my stepfather with stealing livestock. A lie,” she hissed. “As they were hanging him, my mother ran… She t-tried to go to him, but they cut her down.”
As her body began to shake at the memory, Father Lamond stepped forward, but finding a need to offer comfort, Cailin drew her against him. Too well he remembered learning of his family’s death, of the grief, the pain so intense, ’twas as if it had stolen his soul. “I am here, lass,” he soothed as he stroked her hair.
She brushed at the tears pooling in her eyes. “I canna believe they are gone.”
“I know.” Her every fractured breath resonated through him. “Your family will be avenged, that I swear.”
Slowly, her body’s trembling ceased and her breaths grew steady. Face red with emotion, she stepped back. “I am sorry, Father, I hadna meant to cry.”
“Never apologize for your feelings.” Controlled rage shook the priest’s voice even as he sought to comfort her. “You honor your parents with your love.” He hesitated. “And your stepbrother?”
Face ashen, she took the seat the priest had indicated. “The earl’s guard took Blar to the castle.”
“Is he alive?” the priest asked as he bent to inspect Elspet’s injured ankle.
“I dinna know, but Sir Cailin has promised to find out. If he is, he will save him.”
“Thank God.” Father Lamond frowned. “This doesna make sense. As a trusted follower of the Bruce, never would Sir Angus do anything to attract the earl’s attention.”
“We believe that, somehow, the earl discovered Sir Angus’s true loyalty,” Cailin said.
Worry dredged the elder’s brow. “Why?”
“After they killed my stepfather and mother, the earl ordered his guard to search our home. They discovered the detailed map of Tiran Castle signed by you hidden in my stepfather’s belongings. After,” she said with a shudder, “Dalkirk’s men hauled me into his castle, but before the earl could bed me, I escaped. ’Tis how I injured my ankle.”
The priest crossed himself. “Thank God you were able to slip away.” His worried gaze shifted to Cailin. “Lord Dalkirk willna stop until he finds you.”
“Mayhap, but he will rue the day we again meet.” The anger in his voice whipped through the small confines. Cailin smothered his outrage, focused on what must be done. “Though I spent my early years in Tiran Castle, I will need another map to familiarize myself with any changes that have been made since.”
“Of course.” Pride filled the priest’s eyes. “I will help however I can to reclaim your birthright and—” He glanced toward her, “to avenge both of your families’ losses.”
Cailin lay his hand on Elspet’s shoulder in a show of support. “I thank you.”
“I thank you as well,” she said, and accepted the vicar’s ministrations to assure himself that her ankle bore no serious damage.
The priest’s mouth pursed as he probed the swelling, then he gently placed her foot on the floor. “After you eat, I will put some herbs on your ankle and wrap it tight.”
She nodded. “Whatever is cooking smells wonderful.”
The vicar waved Cailin to a nearby chair. “I made venison stew this morning. We can carry on our discussion while we eat.”
He fed several small sticks into the fire beneath the cauldron. Flames shot up and the soup began to bubble. Cailin’s stomach growled at the tempting aroma.
“I find it incredible that you met,” Father Lamond said as he ladled healthy portions into the bowls. After placing a spoon in each, he set the steaming fare before them.
Cailin almost groaned at his first bite and resisted the urge to devour the rest. “I came across her in danger in the woods and offered assistance.” He refused to embarrass her by revealing the truth about her theft. She’d done what she had to in order to survive.
“Sir Cailin saved my life, for which I will be forever thankful.”
“You have my eternal gratitude. I have known Elspet since she was a child.” The priest gave a tight smile. “She was always very special.”
Tenderness softened her expression. “Father, you are being kind. I was always getting into trouble.”
The cleric poured them each a goblet of wine, then dug into his own meal. “There is that, but your intentions were always good.”
Cailin swallowed another spoonful of his stew. “Seems little has changed about getting in trouble. If there is one thing I have learned in our short acquaintance, it is that Elspet is very strong-willed.”
Her eyes cut to his with a flare of defiance.
“You are one to talk.” The priest chuckled. “Your father said that, as a child, you were a handful and then some.”
“I remember your sermons in the chapel,” Cailin said with a quick smile. “They were powerful. Once I reclaim Tiran, I will ask that you return.”
“With pleasure.” His face grew solemn, and he sat back. “’twill be a challenge to seize the stronghold. ’Tis well-fortified. Your uncle is a harsh man who controls his people with a brutal hand, and some claim with a cruelty for his own perverse pleasure.”
“That anyone could find enjoyment in the torment of others is reprehensible,” Cailin snapped.
“’Tis,” Father Lamond agreed. “I assure you, when the Bruce sent a missive asking me to support you, I agreed without hesitation. More so given the Earl of Dalkirk supports Comyn.”
“How long have you known King Robert?” Cailin asked.
“We first met during the spring of our lord’s year of 1304, when I was traveling with Bishop Lamberton. I was but one of a few select men of the cloth chosen as witnesses when the Bruce and Lamberton vowed a united front. Each swore that neither would enter into any major cause for Scotland without informing the other.”
Cailin nodded slowly. “’Twas a sage move that allowed King Edward to believe that Bishop Lamberton had abandoned his support for Scotland. In addition, however vague, it was also an acknowledgment to the Bruce from Lamberton that naught but war would reclaim Scotland’s freedom.”
The priest gave a solemn nod. “Aye. After that, I met with the Bruce many times over the past years, and a strong bond of friendship grew between us. When he confided that he was claiming Scotland, as ’twas rightfully his,
I pledged my support. And I was honored to be at Scone when he was crowned king.”
“King Robert is blessed to have such a loyal man.”
“A compliment I return to you.” The cleric paused before taking his next bite. “When I received our king’s missive that you were returning, I was stunned to discover that you were alive.”
Elspet took a sip of wine. “As was I.”
The priest swallowed his spoonful of stew, then set the utensil down. “What happened to you during these missing years?”
In brief, Cailin explained how his uncle had paid a captain to kill him at sea and how, once away from port, the captain had sold him to pirates, believing Cailin would die. “But the pirates made an error and tried to seize a Templar cog,” he stated with satisfaction.
Elspet’s eyes widened, but the laugh lines around the priest’s eyes deepened. “Taught the fools to attack an elite fighting force.”
“Indeed.” Cailin remembered his relief when he’d been hauled aboard the Templar vessel. “’Tis a portion of my life I will never forget.” A time when he’d joined the Brotherhood, a life he had loved, one destroyed by King Philip’s greed.
“But you arena here to reminisce over the past but reclaim your birthright,” Father Lamond said.
Cailin’s jaw tightened, looking forward to the time when he confronted his uncle, a day that was coming soon. He nodded. “I was en route to see Sir Angus. King Robert assured me that he would have information I would need, which included the map you drew of Tiran Castle. In addition to leading me to you, he was to assist in building a force to confront my uncle and seize my home.”
“Aye, he would have done both and more.” Father Lamond gave his head a sad shake. “’Tis a tragic loss.”
“Father—”
Elspet’s voice broke into their conversation, drawing their attention to her. She had finished her meal and looked beyond exhausted but determined to participate. “I didna mention it to Cailin before,” she continued, “as I thought ’twould be of little help. There was another man who visited days before the earl made false charges against my stepfather. By chance, did you send him?”
A deep frown furrowed the priest’s brow. “Nay. It could have been another of the king’s runners carrying a missive. What did he look like?”
“He was a large man, about as tall as Cailin. Brown hair, grayish-green eyes, and…” She looked at Cailin, her brows drawn in thought. “His dagger was like yours.”
Cailin stilled. “Like mine? Explain.”
“It had a leather-wrapped handle, along with the engraving on the cross guard.” She paused. “And a cross was inlaid on the pommel.”
A Knight Templar? With Sir Angus a secret envoy for the king, it made sense that on occasion he would meet with those of the Brotherhood. With the knight in Scotland, no doubt ’twas a man he would know.
“You said his eyes were a grayish green?” Cailin asked, knowing only a handful of Templars with that trait. “Was there anything else about him that you remember? Something out of the ordinary?”
She scraped her teeth across her lower lip. “My stepfather and the man spoke in low tones, so I heard little of what they said, but I…” A smile touched her mouth. “This will sound insignificant, but his voice had a lyrical quality about it.”
“Lyrical?”
“When I was younger, a band of Irish mercenaries met with my stepfather. This warrior’s voice had the same flowing tone.”
“Irish,” Cailin said, aware of only one Templar who was Irish, had grayish-green eyes, and had sailed with their crew when they’d fled from France to Scotland. “Did you hear his name?”
“Only his first. Rónán.” Elspet met his gaze. “Do you think you know him?”
Know him? Cailin’s throat tightened at thoughts of this unexpected twist. A Knight Templar and a man who was like a brother to him. “Aye, ’tis Rónán O’Connor.”
Chapter 6
Why had Rónán O’Connor met with Sir Angus? A foolish question. In service to King Robert, there would be many reasons to have Rónán traveling through the Highlands.
“Is he someone you trust?” Elspet asked.
At the strain in her voice, he nodded. “With my life. We have fought together in many a battle. He is like a brother to me.”
Hope ignited in her eyes. “Then he will help us?”
“If he is still here, aye. Though by now he could be leagues away.” Cailin paused. “Had you seen Rónán visit your stepfather before?”
She shook her head. “’Twas the first time.”
He turned to the priest. “Have you ever met a man named Sir Rónán O’Connor?”
“Nay, but for my protection, few were allowed to know where I was, less who were brought to my home.”
The last sliver of hope that his friend was still nearby faded. Cailin glanced toward Elspet and noted her pallor, the sadness in her eyes, and how her body trembled with exhaustion. He finished the last of his stew, then the remaining wine in his goblet. “I thank you, Father, for the fine meal. There is much left to discuss, but for now, I seek a bed for Elspet.”
“After the hard travel, you will both be exhausted. I regret that I have but my bed to offer. I will make up a pallet near the hearth.”
Elspet gasped. “I canna take your bed.”
“You will—” Father Lamond smiled. “The heat will be welcome to my old bones.”
Lips pressed tight, she nodded.
A smile tugged at Cailin’s mouth. She didn’t like it, but her respect for the priest stopped her from arguing further. He stood. “After I bed my horse for the night, I will make certain nay one is about. Then I will make a pallet by the entry in case anyone tries to gain access during the night.”
* * * *
After the door closed, the crackle of the fire filled the silence and the vague scent of cooked venison and herbs filled the air. Weariness swamped Elspet, tangled with her heartache at the memories of the past few days, and the horror.
Father Lamond sat next to her. “I am so sorry to hear about your stepfather and mother; they were fine people.”
She’d thought she couldn’t cry more, but now tears burned her throat. “’Tis difficult to believe they are gone.”
“’Tis.” He paused. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish.”
“I thank you, but once Blar is free, I believe we will restart our life elsewhere. Or, if we wish, Sir Cailin has generously offered us a place to live at Tiran Castle.”
“He is a good man. ’Tis indeed a miracle you met.”
“Our meeting was nay accident.” Guilt weighed upon her, more so at learning the priest held Cailin in high regard, which had erased any lingering distrust toward him. She needed to confess her sins. “In truth, a guard I had met on several occasions agreed to help Blar escape, but for a price. So, several days ago, I robbed two men. After I fled, they caught up with me and…” She closed her eyes, shoved the harrowing memory aside, then met the priest’s somber gaze. “Cailin heard my screams and rescued me.”
He made the sign of the cross. “I owe him a debt of gratitude for saving your life.”
“As do I, but instead I—” She dragged a steadying breath and rubbed her injured ankle. “Instead of giving Cailin thanks after he saved my life, I placed powdered valerian root in his ale at the inn he brought me to, to recover. Once he fell asleep, I stole his broadsword and brought the weapon to Wautier Brecnagh to sell for coin to free Blar.”
Sparks snapped in the hearth and flames illuminated the displeasure rippling across the priest’s face. “Your decisions were nay ones that would cull praise, but—” His voice softened, “—they were guided by desperation.” He glanced toward where Cailin’s empty sheath hung, frowned. “You said that you took Sir Cailin’s sword, but he has it with him.”
“I did. While
waiting for Wautier Brecnagh to pay me, I overheard him whispering to his assistant that he had recognized the coat of arms on the sword. You can imagine my shock when I heard the broadsword belonged to Sir Cailin’s father. Before the merchant returned, I slipped away and returned the weapon. But,” she admitted, humbled by the knight’s kindness, “Cailin was too much a gentleman to expose my duplicity to you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Though your actions were spurred by fear for Blar, you are fortunate that Cailin is an honorable man, more so than many.”
“I am,” she rasped.
“Nor will you risk such dangerous actions again.” He scowled. “If you need help, come to me, or send a message. I have many connections.”
“I will, Father. I ask for penance to atone for my transgressions.”
Wizened eyes held hers with somber regard as he made the sign of the cross. “Say three Hail Marys before you go to sleep.”
“I will. I thank you, Father.”
The scrape of the door had her glancing toward the entry. Heat stung her cheeks as Cailin stepped inside.
“Did you see any sign of anyone out there?” Father Lamond asked.
“Nay.” Cailin dusted the snow off his boots, then secured his broadsword in the sheath. “To make sure, I made an extra round along the perimeter, then sat and listened for a while.”
The tautness in her body eased. They were safe, but for how long? Nor could she erase the worry. “Father, there are only three of us. What if the earl’s men come during the night?”
Cailin stepped forward. “Elspet, I—”
The priest stood. “A credible concern, given the circumstances, and one in which I can offer a bit of ease. As you notice, this floor is made of wood.” He walked to where the large rug lay atop worn slats, rolled it back, then slid his finger into what looked like a crack in the plank, lifted it.
Inside the opening, the top of a ladder disappeared into blackness.