RODNEY CARLETON, newly named Earl of Fairfax, looked about the room at those Edward had hastily summoned to attend a war council. The Earls of Pembroke, Ulster, and Dunbar were in attendance. Edward seemed barely able to conceal his glee at whatever news he planned to share. The king quickly called his noblemen to order.
“Gentlemen, Bruce has finally given us the means to subdue the rebel Scots once and for all.”
“What is the news, Your Majesty?” asked Ulster.
Ulster remained a valued member of the inner circle despite his daughter’s imprisonment at the manor of Burstwick-in-Holderness. Edward’s own father had arranged the marriage of Ulster’s daughter, Elizabeth de Burgh, to Robert the Bruce in an effort to wed the Scotsman’s loyalty to the English king. Only her father’s continued loyalty to England had saved Elizabeth from being tried as a traitor.
Rodney returned his thoughts to the present as Edward continued. “We are still in command of Stirling. Our commander there, Sir Philip Mowbray, arrived here in London last week under a grant of safe conduct. It seems Bruce’s impatient brother has committed Bruce to the capture of Stirling Castle.”
A murmur arose among the gathering and the king raised his voice to be heard. “A bargain has been struck whereby, if I do not rescue Stirling from Bruce’s siege by Midsummer’s Day, then Mowbray will yield the castle to Bruce.”
“And is Bruce bound by this agreement?” Dunbar inquired, his voice incredulous.
“Yes, he is. Mowbray and Edward Bruce pledged their sacred honor. Robert must see this through and meet us, at last, in a pitched battle he cannot win. No more must we abide his irregular warfare. He will meet the might of England and be vanquished.”
Edward pounded the table in front of him. “We shall assemble a mighty army and defeat these vexing Scots once and for all. The relief of Stirling shall be our battle call and will cause all of England to rally to our cause.”
“Here, here,” shouted a chorus of voices.
At this, Carleton spoke up. “We shall prevail, Your Majesty. The Scots have seen much of war these past years, and it has taken a toll. How soon do we begin preparations?”
Edward smiled in malice. “Immediately. I have sent writs to eight earls, including the four of you here today, and eighty-seven barons, summoning you to appear with your forces at Berwick by June tenth.”
Heads nodded as Edward continued. “I have also issued an open summons to any knight from any country who may wish to join our cause and so reap the fame and spoils of fortune.”
“Here, here,” the others shouted in excitement.
“I shall await you at Berwick, my lords. See to your duty.” Edward dismissed them, all but Carleton.
As the others filed from the room, Lord Rodney Carleton straightened his sleeve and perused his finely tailored clothing, admiring this latest fashion from Paris. The new style suited his elegant body to perfection. In this, Rodney thought, he and the king of England had much in common. They both paid particular care to their appearance.
Indeed their mutual delight in the pursuit of life’s pleasures was the glue that held their friendship together. His association with Edward provided prestige, privilege, and the opportunity to acquire the wealth needed to obtain life’s finer possessions.
The young king, blond and fair of face, resembled his Plantagenet ancestors. Indeed, he favored his father physically, as Edward I had also been a towering man of great strength.
The similarities ended there; where the father had ruled with an iron fist, even Rodney would admit that the son was weak and surrounded himself with advisors of questionable character. Himself excluded, of course. The single idea the two Edwards held in common was a hatred of the rebellious Scots. In particular, Robert the Bruce and the baseborn knight, Bryan Mackintosh.
When they were alone, Rodney bowed and said, “Your Majesty, how good of you to see me privately.”
“Nonsense, Rodney. Your message intrigued us, as you knew it would. We found the news quite interesting. It seems the Scottish rebel has stolen another jewel from our crown. And from you.” He snickered. “Come, pour yourself some wine and let us sit.”
Alerted to Edward’s bad mood by the use of the royal pronoun, Rodney nervously filled a goblet from the side table, then sat in the chair next to his king.
Rodney waited for Edward to begin the conversation, reminding himself he didn’t care one way or the other if the Scots were subdued or not. Politics only interested him in so far as it affected his ability to accumulate wealth and power. However, he did want revenge against Bryan Mackintosh for taking what was his.
Edward eyed him over the top of his goblet. “I expected you to convince Lady Kathryn, by force, if necessary, to yield her Scottish lands and wealth to England.”
“Yes, my lord.” He’d had plenty of time to dread Edward’s reaction in the six days it had taken him to return to London. So far Edward’s behavior was more reasonable than he’d hoped.
Edward slapped the arm of his chair. “Confound it. How did Mackintosh take the castle?”
Rodney swallowed. “Lady Kathryn yielded to Mackintosh, not to me. Her people are loyal to her and they refused to obey me.”
“Perhaps the young countess has not yet had time to take note of your numerous attributes.”
“Perhaps not.” Rodney refused to rise to the bait and give the king more reason to be angry with him. Kathryn’s refusal of his marriage proposal had caused quite a stir among his social set. He’d been biding his time, waiting for the aging earl to oblige him by dying. But Mackintosh had spoiled his plans.
Given another chance, Rodney would make Kathryn pay for her most recent behavior. Her treachery might cost him the king’s favor unless he thought of some way to make amends.
“Well, Rodney, what are we to do? Her Scottish estates are worth far more than those she holds here. The wealth will only be used against England’s cause if it remains in the hands of that Scottish rebel.” Edward brushed at his sleeve. “She must be punished to prove to my detractors that I can be ruthless when necessary.”
Rodney stiffened. “Punished how?”
“Use your imagination, can’t you, Rodney?”
“Of course.” Best to change the subject quickly before Edward used his. “And what of my desires, sire?”
“You will be rewarded according to your success in getting me what I want.” He leaned forward. “I want Homelea and its river crossing.”
“And the woman?”
“Why must you have the one woman in my kingdom who doesn’t want you?” He leaned back again. “There are others just as wealthy as Lady Kathryn who would willingly grace your arm, you know.”
“No doubt. But ’tis her I want.” She will bow to my will.
Edward speared him with a look. “In all likelihood, Bruce will give the woman to one of his nobles. We probably cannot stop such a marriage, but time is running short for Bruce and his rabble army.” He made a quick decision. “You will accompany me north to Stirling.”
Rodney felt ill at the suggestion. “I’m a swordsman, not a warrior.”
“You can sit a horse while you wield your sword, can’t you? If you want the countess, you will seek out Mackintosh and kill him.”
“But what if she’s already married?”
“We will seek an annulment. Nothing is impossible when one has money and the ear of the pope.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“As to Mackintosh, it shouldn’t be hard to find him on the field of battle after we tear Bruce’s army into shreds. Indeed, Black Bryan is always in the ranks that protect his nefarious sire, and I want him dead, too.”
Edward stood and Rodney followed suit, replacing his goblet on the table. “My liege, perhaps we can use Kathryn to lure Mackintosh, and even Bruce himself, into a trap and thus avoid a battle at Stirling altogether.”
Edward clapped his hands together. “Yes, just the thing, Rodney. Your devious mind is always working. See how it can be done. One way or another, I will rid my kingdom of that trumped up king.”
KATHRYN SAW LITTLE OF HER GUARDIAN the next week. From Fergus she learned that the knight’s squire was named Thomas and his man at arms was named Adam. All three were recruiting men for the Scottish army. When she saw them enter the hall on Saturday evening, she quickly sent a servant to invite them to join her at the high table.
She awaited them by the fireplace, Fergus at her side. She wasn’t surprised to see Maggie the hound at Sir Bryan’s heels.
“So that’s where the dog has been all day,” Fergus said.
“Aye, she’s taken to Sir Bryan, it seems.”
She feared her distrust of the knight must have shown in her tone of voice and Fergus defended him. “A man who inspires such canine loyalty can’t be all bad, can he?”
Kathryn frowned. “Don’t trust a dog to judge a man’s character, Fergus. Will you join us for the meal?”
“I will stay in the hall, aye. But not at table with you.”
Sir Bryan and the blond man walked to where Kathryn and Fergus stood. The men nodded curtly to one another before Fergus took his leave while the squire went to sit with Sir Bryan’s soldiers. She saw Fergus give orders to several of the castle guards before finding an empty spot at a table near the kitchen doorway.
Her attention was soon captured by Sir Bryan’s man at arms. His smiling face certainly contrasted with the dour knight’s. Bending over her proffered hand, he said, “We have not been properly introduced, my lady. Adam Mackintosh, at your service. I have the misfortune to be this brute’s foster brother as well as his master at arms.”
He straightened and clapped Sir Bryan on the back. The smile that accompanied such impertinence assured Kathryn the men were the best of friends, despite the difference in age. Adam looked to be at least five years older and was as fair as the other man was dark, their coloring presumably mirroring their dispositions.
“Good evening, Lady Kathryn,” Sir Bryan said as he offered her his arm and led her to the dais. They took their seats, one man on either side of her and she said, “Are you cousins, then, Sir Bryan?”
“No. My mother married a Mackintosh. I lived at Moy until her death.” Bryan cut the meat on the trencher they shared and gave her the first bite on the end of his knife.
At least he has good table manners. She finished chewing and asked, “And how did you come to train as a knight?”
“I was sent to Lochmaben to train as a page with the Earl of Carrick.” The Earl of Carrick, who now reigned as Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
Without thinking, she asked, “Your father sent for you?” For a brief second some emotion raced across his face and she quickly said, “I’m sorry, my laird. I should not have spoken so.”
He calmly resumed cutting the meat and offered her another piece. “The only father I have known was William Mackintosh. And he is dead.”
Adam cleared his throat and said, “’Tis hard to lose a parent under the best of circumstances.”
“You have shared my experience,” she replied, glad to move the conversation to a safer topic.
Bryan filled their glasses. “He has.”
“Aye,” Adam said. “My father died six years ago. But as I’ve often said, the love of a good woman can soothe all manner of heartache.”
Kathryn smiled at Adam’s declaration. “And you speak from experience again?”
Bryan said, “Adam is disgustingly happily married. And how many bairns have you and Gwenyth now? I can’t keep track.”
“There’s only the three, Bryan.”
Kathryn relaxed in their company, enjoying the banter she had always imagined flowed between siblings. The awkwardness caused by her reference to Bryan’s parentage seemed forgotten, thankfully.
As the table was being cleared for the serving of sweets, Adam’s tone became more somber. “Ceallach should arrive any day and we’ll be called to Stirling. In the meantime, let’s enjoy good food and warm beds while we can.”
“Aye, we’ll be eating army food and sleeping on the ground once we leave here.”
Somehow Sir Bryan didn’t sound as unhappy at the prospect of leaving as Adam did.
“And there won’t be such a lovely lady to grace our meals, either.” Adam grinned and Kathryn felt her face blush at his compliment. Adam continued to jest with her and rib his foster brother until a traveling troubadour carrying a harp walked over to their table.
“Gawen,” Adam said, “it’s good to see you again. Lady Kathryn, have you ever heard young Gawen sing?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“He has the voice of an angel.”
The man bowed over her hand. “Your servant, my lady.” He indicated his harp. “I know of your father’s recent death. Would you prefer not to have song this evening?”
“How thoughtful of you to ask, Gawen. My father loved a well-sung tale, and I’m sure your song would be an appropriate remembrance of him.”
“With your permission, then?”
Kathryn inclined her head and smiled at his courtly manners. “Of course, Gawen. Tell us a fine tale this evening.”
Conversations gradually halted throughout the hall as Gawen took a seat before the great fireplace and strummed the harp. His clear tenor voice enchanted them. Kathryn leaned over and asked Bryan if he would interpret.
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t speak the Gaelic?” he asked.
“I do, but not well enough to follow in song.”
“Very well, then.” He moved closer to her on the bench. She glanced to where Fergus sat, and saw him scowling. Now what? The man seemed constantly cross with her lately.
Sir Bryan bent down closer to her ear. Kathryn felt his breath stir her hair. She detected the fragrance of mint and a musky, masculine scent that, coupled with his chest touching her shoulder, she found disconcerting. She forced her thoughts back to the singer and his tale.
“Scotland’s current troubles began over the love of a woman,” Sir Bryan spoke softly. “For hundreds of years, royal descendants of Ceann-Mor ruled our fair land. Gawen is now listing each of those kings. Shall I repeat them for you?”
She shook her head, content to listen to Gawen’s strong, clear voice as he counted the great, and not so great, past kings of Scotland.
“Come, Bryan,” Adam said. “’Tis my turn to regale the lady.” Adam picked up the story. “All through these times, England and Scotland were good neighbors and friends. Tonight we hear the tale of Alexander III, well beloved king, whose wife bore him two sons and a daughter. None, alas, who outlived their sire. Upon his first wife’s death, Alexander took a second, much younger wife. He was quite delighted with her, and took every opportunity to attempt to create an heir.”
Kathryn heard the mirth in Adam’s voice and looked at him to confirm it. He made a comical face and she felt herself blush. Black Bryan did not join in the frivolity, and Kathryn wondered that such a stern man could be a friend with a man such as Adam.
She brought her thoughts back to Alexander, the king who had found delight in being a husband. Would Kathryn ever elicit such devotion from a man?
Bryan shifted in his seat, and now his thigh touched hers. Deliberate or not, it made her uncomfortable, and she pulled away.
Seeming not to notice her retreat, Sir Bryan interrupted Adam and continued with the story. “One winter night, the king met with his advisors some distance from his home. The meeting ended well after dark, on a cold, blustery evening. His squire and others tried to persuade Alexander to wait until morning, but visions of his lovely young wife rose in his head, and he started for home.
“When the king’s riderless horse arrived at the castle later that night, a search party set forth. But it wasn’t until morn that they found his body lying at the foot of a cliff. He had apparently urged his horse forward, but the beast, sensing danger, had stopped suddenly and Alexander tumbled over the animal’s head to his death.”
“And how did this lead to our present difficulties with England?” Kathryn asked, as Gawen sang the final verse.
“Alexander’s heir, an infant granddaughter, died before taking the throne. With the monarchy in chaos, the nobles fought amongst themselves and are still trying to regain control a quarter century later.”
“And I take it you blame all this on the love of a woman?”
Black Bryan’s scowl returned. “Aye.” The tone of his voice cooled dramatically. “If Alexander hadn’t been so besotted over his wife and her charms, perhaps he would have listened to reason and lived long enough to father a suitable heir.”
“So, duty comes before love? Or do you not approve of a man loving his wife?”
Bryan answered, “A house divided cannot stand, nor can a man see to his duty if his loyalties are divided.”
Adam said, “Come, brother. Kings have a duty to produce heirs.” At this a look passed between the two men that Kathryn couldn’t unravel.
“So they do,” Sir Bryan agreed.
Kathryn knew that Bruce’s only legitimate heir was a young daughter about Kathryn’s age. Was Bryan her older half brother? Did he entertain hopes of inheriting Bruce’s crown? If he did it would create as much instability as had the death of King Alexander’s granddaughter.
He had moved to the other side of the bench and turned his back to her, deep in conversation with Adam. She glanced at him and wondered if he ever laughed in the company of people or if he was only so forbidding around her.
Returning her thoughts to the night’s entertainment, she saw many of those present had now joined Gawen in another song.
Kathryn stifled a yawn just as Sir Bryan turned to face her, emotions masked, as usual, beneath a scowl. “You are tired, my lady. Do you wish to retire?”
“Aye, my laird, if it please you.”
His face remained expressionless. “I have enjoyed your company this evening.”
His confession surprised her. “And I yours, my laird.” Though the polite response came automatically, she realized the words were true. Were his words more than required etiquette as well? His stoic countenance made clear that he desired no further conversation. She rose, bid him goodnight, and retired to her chamber to a restless night’s sleep.
KATHRYN SPENT THE NEXT MORNING with her steward and her chief shepherd, tallying the lambs born this spring. Homelea’s wealth derived mainly from the fine wool produced by its flock of sheep, and Kathryn had much to learn about their care. If she had hoped her protector would also oversee the estate, she was doomed to disappointment.
Over the past week Sir Bryan and Adam had been far too busy to attend to the day-to-day decisions of managing a castle and its occupants. Messengers arrived at all hours and often Sir Bryan had ridden out with them.
As the time for the noonday meal approached, the sound of horses on the drawbridge startled her. By the time she crossed the hall, she saw Fergus usher a man into the solar, which Sir Bryan now occupied as a temporary headquarters.
Fergus closed the door and Kathryn inquired, “Do you know who sent him?”
“King Robert, my lady. Most likely the man has news of the war.”
“He doesn’t look like a messenger.” The man had been as large as the Black Knight and carried an unusual number of weapons.
Kathryn went to see to refreshments for the man, whoever or whatever he might be.
Curiosity aroused, Kathryn returned to the hall and lingered about the doorway of the solar for several minutes. Something was brewing, something more than the confrontation at Stirling. And their plotting seemed to put Homelea and its inhabitants directly in the middle, making her fear for their safety.
Twice she walked toward the door intending to knock, but voices raised in anger could clearly be heard from behind the heavy oak door. Actually, only one voice sounded angry—Sir Bryan’s. The other voice was pleading.
The sound of crashing furniture sent Kathryn scurrying to the other side of the hall. Whatever the messenger had told Sir Bryan had obviously not pleased the knight. The door would no doubt open soon and disgorge the hapless messenger. Rather than risk being near the angry knight, she hastened out of the hall to the stable. She had just begun to groom her mare when a servant found her. “My lady, Sir Bryan would like a word with ye.”
Reluctantly Kathryn set down the brush and walked back toward the keep, entering through the kitchen. She crossed the hall and hesitated outside the solar. Finally, she pushed the door open, barely concealing a gasp when she spied the scowl on Black Bryan’s face.
Adam stood next to him, and only the kindness in his smile kept Kathryn from retracing her steps to the stable. A fast ride on a willing horse appealed to her far more than facing the grim-faced man in front of her. The messenger had already left the room.
Recovering her composure, Kathryn asked, “You sent for me, sir?”
“Aye, come have a seat.” He averted his gaze.
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
He brought his gaze back to her and something in his eyes made her shiver involuntarily.
She sat in the chair Adam offered as Sir Bryan picked up a parchment from the table. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could see the muscle work in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it.
“The king has chosen a husband for you.” The knight’s voice sounded strained.
“But I don’t wish to marry, my laird. You said you would make that clear to His Majesty.”
The fierce warrior stared at the document in his hands. After clearing his throat, Sir Bryan spoke. “I am instructed to assure you His Majesty King Robert is not insensitive to your person or your position. But he feels it is in your best interest to have the protection of a husband. Therefore he has chosen . . . It seems he wishes to strengthen his claim to Homelea by wedding you to one of his knights.”
He raised an eyebrow and regarded her intently. For once his face divulged his emotions only too clearly and he didn’t look any happier about the situation than she felt. Who had the king chosen and how would it affect her and Isobel? Fighting panic, Kathryn prayed that this was somehow part of God’s plan.
What does that parchment say?
Sir Bryan averted his gaze. Obviously at a loss to continue, the dark-haired knight faced her again, then turned to his man at arms with an imploring look. Such hesitation was so out of character for the man that she caught herself biting her thumbnail in agitation.
Adam stepped forward. “The rest of our king’s message concerns my foster brother, which is why he’s stumbling about. King Robert is aware of your youth and praises your beauty. An opinion, by the way, which I share with our sovereign.”
Adam’s grin was infectious and Kathryn found herself amused by his efforts to put her at ease. The warmth of his expression and the kindness in his voice gave her hope that he, at least, approved of the king’s choice. But the scowl on Black Bryan’s face told her he didn’t share his brother’s opinion.
She could only hope that whomever the king had chosen, he would protect her and Isobel from Rodney Carleton. Her breathing became shallow. Her heart raced. Please God. Send someone kind who will love Isobel and cherish me. A man who knows you and your son. Despite the coolness of the room, moisture beaded on her forehead.
“Perhaps you should hear what the king has to say.” Adam took the parchment and opened it, and Kathryn’s future unfolded as Adam smoothed the pages.
The knight appeared as uneasy as she felt. Then Adam said, “My lady, you will retain one third of this estate as your dowry, all rents and payments to remain under your control. There is a complete listing of those payments—”
Black Bryan erupted. “Adam, for the love of heaven, get on with it.”
“Yes. My apologies to both of you.” With a nod to Sir Bryan, lips twitching, Adam continued. “In the name of King Robert the Bruce of Scotland, Sir Bryan Robert Mackintosh is hereby named as the new Earl of Homelea.”
Kathryn gasped in indignation. Robert the Bruce was taking her birthright. Who would marry her without her title and lands? Her eyes widened in shock as the obvious answer to that question was confirmed.
“To seal Sir Bryan’s claim to the title, His Majesty announces the betrothal of his ward, Kathryn Rose de Lindsay to the new Earl of Homelea. The marriage is to take place within the week—”
“Absolutely not.” Kathryn jumped up from her chair and shook her head in disbelief. The sudden rise to her feet caused a wave of dizziness and she all but fainted. “Out of the question. I do not accept this betrothal.”
He wasn’t the one, the answer to her prayers. The king had made a mistake. Sir Bryan was her champion, not her husband. He was not God’s choice . . . he couldn’t be. Kathryn struggled to maintain her wits while she considered how to halt this nightmare. In the heat of her emotions, she didn’t think before she said, “I’ll not be forced to marry anyone, let alone some baseborn knight.”
Immediately she wished to retract the harsh words that condemned her own precious daughter. But ’twas too late.
At the murderous look on Black Bryan’s face, she nearly panicked. That remark had certainly gone beyond the bounds of courtesy. How to diffuse the tangible tension in the room and give herself time to think? To pray. If ever she’d needed time alone to seek God’s will, it was now.
A fainting spell. Yes, that would put an end to this ridiculous conversation. Not the most original idea, she knew, but it was the best solution she could manage at the moment. Without further thought, Kathryn let her body go limp in what she hoped was a graceful fall that wouldn’t end with her head crashing into the furniture. Just before she closed her eyes she saw Sir Bryan reach for her, his scowl replaced by apparent concern for her welfare.
Mercifully, he caught her before she hit anything, although the pins holding her braided hair came loose. Relief that her hair was the only casualty of her folly was short-lived. Kathryn now found herself held securely in the brute’s arms. She fought down her panic, but not before she stiffened for a telltale instant. He must be peering into her face because she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, smell the mint he chewed after meals. Barely refraining from an errant shudder, she focused on staying limp.
“Well, brother, it seems you have the lady swooning at your feet,” Adam chided.
Kathryn wished she could peek at the expression on Sir Bryan’s face. “Fetch the matron to tend her,” he said.
Just put me down and go away. Please.
But all he did was sit down on a bench and set her weight on his thigh. She heard Anna bustle in and her indignant, “What have ye done to my lady?”
“She appears to have fainted, though Lady Kathryn doesn’t strike me as the fainting sort,” he said. “What ails her?”
“I don’t know—did ye have words with her?” Anna asked.
As he explained the king’s message, Kathryn wondered how much longer she could feign her fainting spell.
She heard Anna’s intake of breath at the announcement of the betrothal. “One too many shocks, I dare say. Come, let’s take her to her chamber.”
Kathryn’s head lolled against his chest as he climbed the stairs. He laid her gently on the bed in her chamber. Anna placed a cool cloth on her forehead.
“I assure you I am no more pleased than Lady Kathryn at marrying against my will. However, this fainting spell will not deter me from my duty.”
Knowing that if she didn’t “revive” soon they would know she’d faked the spell, she moved her head and pushed at the cloth with her hand.
A silent moment passed and she peered through nearly closed eyelids. “Is he gone?”
“No, my lady, I’m still here.”
She could swear she heard something like amusement in his voice. Kathryn groaned. “Leave me, please.”
Silence. “We will speak when you have recovered.”