A Promise of Love (33 page)

"I wish I could have saved her," he said, his voice low and tinged with loss, “but I’ve no treatment for age.”
"She was ready, Alisdair. She had prepared herself.”

"How do you know?" He turned to look at her and Judith almost wept at the sadness in his eyes.

"By this," she said, rising. Judith retrieved the casket of jewels she had been instructed to give to Alisdair. "She wanted you to have these," she said, handing the small box to him. It was ornately decorated with pearls and its rounded top was encrusted with tiny, sparkling bits of glass.

He held it in his large hands, a small smile touching his lips. "I was ever intrigued by this when I was a boy," he said softly, and then searched for one spot on the side of the casket. He pressed one rounded jewel and a secret drawer slid free.

He stared at the contents for a long moment. There were two objects lovingly placed there. On one side rested a drawstring bag containing Granmere's small collection of unmounted jewels. Nestled on the other side was her wedding ring. She had not removed it since she had come to Scotland as a bride. Indeed, he had not noticed its absence from her finger until now. Alisdair pushed the drawer back into place, understanding full well his grandmother's last request.

He wished he did not.

Her duty not yet complete, Judith went to the small vanity his grandmother had used all of her life. From the top drawer, she extracted another article and returned to Alisdair's side.

She could not prevent the tears, nor the sudden lump in her throat.

"I charge you, Alisdair MacLeod," she said, in the somber tones the oath she’d memorized decreed, "Chief of the clan MacLeod, laird of your people, with the honor, duty and obligation of your station. Do you, Alisdair MacLeod, promise to protect and shelter your people, provide for them with your might, and by the right of your birth?"

"What is this?" He extended his hand to hers, to what lay shining in her palm, but she withdrew it.

"Please, Alisdair, just answer."

He had known the laird's pledge for as long as his memory served him. It was strictly a ceremonial oath, given during solemn occasions, when the mantle of responsibility fell to the living, on the night following the death of the current laird. He had not the time, nor had it been thought of, following the battle of Culloden.

He nodded.

"You must speak it, Alisdair," Judith said softly, tears husking her voice.

"I do so say, and I will do so," he said, repeating the ancient response.

"Then wear this badge proudly," Judith said, repeating the words Granmere made her learn. "The blood of your fathers protect you, the love of your mothers surround you, the pride of your clan sustain you." She reached over and brushed his hands away and pinned the crested badge upon his shirt.

He looked at its shining surface mutely and then at Judith in confusion. He had not seen this since his father had worn it during that final battle. He had supposed it had been lost. He did not know how his grandmother had come to have it, but he knew well the gesture she had forced Judith to make. At her death, she was telling him that she found him worthy.

It made her last request more vital.

He would do it, but his spirit and his heart rebelled.

****

Judith wanted to be alone, a difficult feat at Tynan this evening. She finally slipped away from Alisdair's watchful eyes and Meggie's vigilance. There was no danger of her being so stupid as to wander alone on the lonely paths surrounding Tynan. She had lost her innocence in England, the remainder of her illusions in London. She would not lose her life in Scotland. It had already claimed her heart.

Although she had thought the request ghoulish, Judith had met with Malcolm and conveyed to him Sophie’s last wish.

“She had no right askin’ this o’ me. It’s a sacrilege.”

“She wants the weapons buried with her. That means all the ones you’ve already taken from their hiding place, the ones hidden in the crofter’s huts.”

Malcolm’s look of surprise was almost worth Granmere’s request.

“She knew?”

“That you wanted to arm the glen? Yes, she knew.”

“An’ I’m thinkin’ she shouldn’t have been tellin’ an English woman the secret o’ the MacLeods.”

"Would you rather that Douglas died, then, Malcolm? Or Fiona?” The words were cutting, but not as sharp as the look Malcolm shot at her."What price is a child's life, Malcolm?" she continued, "or the women of your clan, or the boys not yet grown to men? Tell me, then, Malcolm, who you will sacrifice for a lost cause. Then go, and slit their throats, for it is a kinder thing you do than what the English will do to all of the MacLeods if they find such contraband.”

Not one word passed between them, then. He did not mention that he remembered her tale, that he’d been unable to forget what two English soldiers had done to a young woman with eyes the color of Scotland. She did not tell him that she’d given her word to Sophie and despite the fact her past held secrets and her soul was tarnished, it was a bond of inestimable value to her. Malcolm finally nodded curtly.

Now, Judith wanted a quiet space of time without the chatter of other women. This morning had been difficult; the preparations accompanying death often are, but during the ritual, Judith discovered that the Scots were a superstitious sort. They grieved for Sophie's passing, of course, with a deep and genuine sense of loss, but their sorrow was curiously mixed with what appeared, at least to her, bizarre customs.

Each one of the women summoned to prepare Sophie had tried to explain, their contempt for her replaced by necessity, death taking precedence over rancor, it seemed.

"One's for the body. 'Tis the other for the spirit," Lauren said, after placing a wooden platter upon Sophie's breast. Upon this platter were two separate mounds, one consisting of the soil of Tynan, the other of salt.

"Aye," Meggie added, she being the one who had assisted Judith in the laying out of Sophie's fragile body in the rusty black dress. "We dinna believe it's a bad place ta go, heaven. "Tis a better place an’ all." She smiled down at Sophie and then, with a tender parting gesture, bent to kiss the withered cheek.

All of the women had made a point of kissing Sophie, an action they said would prevent dreams of her and also to prove to the world that they had no cause in her death. In fact, if Judith could believe their stories, each had seen evidence of Sophie’s imminent passing.

"'Twas the cock crowing," Sara stated emphatically. Had she not heard it in the wee hours of the morning?

"An' old Willie's hound, too," Meggie contributed. "He howled last night."

One of the other women had heard the sound of a bird tapping at the window, followed by a strange and unaccountable rapping on her roof.

Judith thought she would scream if she heard one more premonition. If the Scots had been truly gifted with such abilities, it's a wonder that the horror and the suffering of the past four years had not been prevented. Still, she'd managed to smile politely at their stories and listen to their instructions with temperate grace, all the while praying that her resolve would last long enough to escape to blessed silence.

She walked on, careful of the distance between the great brooding shape of Tynan to her rear and the nearest path. Only when she saw the twins, did her guard relax a little. David - or was it Daniel? - waved to her from the fence line, and she waved back. Even in the midst of sorrow, there were duties to be performed.

She leaned against the fence and watched the great milling flock of sheep, for once their sound not grating to her ear, but lulling to her mood. Because of these sheep and her father's accidental largesse, the MacLeod clan would be able to carve a future for themselves. She smiled, thinking of it.

She would miss Sophie so much. In just a matter of months, she had taken the place of her mother, of the confidante she'd never had. She'd been uncritical, without judgment, as if nothing Judith could say or do would be untoward or unacceptable. It was the first time in her life she'd ever felt that kind of unquestioning love from anyone. At home, she'd been singled out as strange, or odd. Even her gentle mother had despaired of her oldest daughter, a fact which Judith had realized from an early age. Peter's affection for her had lasted until his mother's first tirade and Judith doubted that Anthony had felt love for anyone, except perhaps his brother.

Judith recalled the first time she had seen Granmere, shuffling from the shadows of the courtyard, her imperious cane marking her passage. She smiled at memories of Sophie's resolve in the face of her and Alisdair's stubbornness, the three month bargain which had been coined at her insistence. She thought back upon their conversations, when Sophie's gentle compassion had purged her of unwelcome and bitter memories, and when old, wise eyes had sparkled with laughter. She remembered sitting quietly by the fire as Sophie sewed yet another garment, a gift of generosity and caring.

"Ye'd best return to the castle, missus," one of the twins said, and held up his arm for his brother. It was uncanny the way his twin seemed to turn at the exact moment his arm went up in the air, as if having sensed that he was needed.

She was not so idiotic as to argue with him. Meggie's rape and her own near assault still burned too fiercely in her mind. The problem of Bennett, however, was postponed this one night. Granmere came first.

Judith entered the great hall and slid beside Alisdair without saying a word. He looked down at her, determined all was well, hauled her close to his side, and continued his conversation, all with no noticeable gap in his speech.

Judith did not protest when Alisdair pulled her even closer in a blatant act of possession. It was somehow reassuring.

Meggie nodded at her from across the room, as if comforted by her appearance.

The clan was assembled for the first part of the ceremony marking Sophie's death. Judith looked around the room, recalling the last time everyone had been assembled. Then, suspicion had colored the looks from every pair of eyes. Suspicion and not a little hate since she'd just been exposed as a widow of one of Cumberland's veterans. If there was hatred now, it was masked civilly, or she had become too inured to feel it. Plus, the act of being pressed against their laird's side might have mitigated what anger remained. Old Geddes was there, and Malcolm, Alex leaning against the wall with his crutch and leg propped against one step, Hamish being led into the room by Malcolm. Sara was holding court in the corner of the room, no doubt regaling some poor innocent with another hideous recipe or chastising someone for daring to speak before she'd finished. Fiona held Douglas, the little boy squirming to be let down so that he could explore and practice his new trick of walking.

She and Alisdair were the first to perform the lykewake. The fire was extinguished in Sophie's room and only when the ashes were cold and swept clean, did the women move to leave. They removed every polished surface, including the small bronzed mirror that Granmere had used each day. Judith was left with a candle, enough food to last the night, and a small bottle of whiskey that one of the crofters had received in trade for a length of unused linen.

She and Alisdair were to wait for the dawn to be relieved of their duty , for there was to be no coming or going in the dark. "For fear of what ye might see," Meggie said, slowing shutting the door behind her.

Soon, Alisdair would join her, and together they would mark the passage of time in a silent homage to the spirit of the woman who had loved them both.It was not strange to Judith that she felt as though Sophie's spirit knelt beside her in that cold room.

She felt Alisdair's touch on her neck and looked up at him with a small, sad smile. He bent to kiss her before kneeling beside her, gripping Judith's hand tightly.

When they were relieved of their duty at dawn, Alisdair and Judith mounted the wheel staircase in the corner of the laird's room, brushing past the cobwebs from a hundred industrious and rarely disturbed spiders.

"Careful, here," Alisdair said, leading her around a hole in the floor. They ascended yet another level, until the pink and yellow dawn shone brightly through the roof. Up one more until they emerged on the battlements, where they could see for miles.

Fires still burned brightly along the track to the village, a ceremony, Judith was told, that dated back to Viking times.

"Our land used to stretch as far as you could see," Alisdair said, extending one hand as if to encompass the horizon itself. "Now, it ends at the other side of the promontory and at the far end of the fishing village."

She didn’t ask who owned it now. Either the English, or absentee landlords who cared as little for the land as the people who subsisted on it.

Alisdair turned, extending one arm around her, pulling her into the warmth of his embrace, cradling her against his chest. It was less a sign of passion, than it was a need for comfort.

"She loved you, you know," he said in a low voice. “Else she would never have told you about the treasure.”

“You knew?” She looked up at him.

“I am laird, Judith, it is my business to know. I had not realized, however, how much had been moved from the secret place.” The night had been filled with stealthy activity, he was certain of it, as Malcolm and his ill assorted band of would-be patriots gathered up their cache of hidden weapons, placing them in Granmere’s coffin. It was a strange request his grandmother had made of Judith, yet she’d accomplished it, a feat which did not surprise Alisdair at all.