Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (7 page)

“Mind you, there is some risk, and I must warn you not to repeat anything I say. Baron MacKai, his sisters, and knights all speak English quite well. Do you understand?”

Jessamyn could not see her maid’s face, but she felt the slight tug on her hair when Margery’s grip tightened.

“Yes, Lady Jessamyn.”

“Good, now listen closely. First, the marriage vows will not be spoken before midsummer, close on two months from now. The baron himself actually suggested that, so I’ve no need to find an excuse for delay. That gives us plenty of time to allay any distrust by the Scots. We shall both be all that is courteous to everyone but the baron. ’Tis he who controls whether we stay or go, and I would have him happy to be rid of both of us.

“We’ll bide our time until a ship arrives, then you and I will pretend to argue. You must take coin from my dowry to hire passage to New Castle on a ship departing with the morning tide. The dowry already lies hidden in your trunk, and most of it shall go with you when you leave. I will retire to my chamber, pretending to be distraught. Under cover of dark I will join you, hiding in your quarters on board until the ship has sailed and it is too late to turn back. I’d like to bring Persia with me, but that may not be possible. I’ll retrieve her by claiming she was part of the dowry Baron MacKai lost all right to when he broke our betrothal.

“By the time King Edward or my father hears that I did not marry this churlish Scot, you will be safe at home, and I shall be secure behind the walls of St. Bartholomew’s nunnery in York. The church will protect me because of the dowry I bring. Your innocence will protect you. None can blame you for following your lady’s orders.”

“It sounds like a fine plan, Lady Jessamyn.” Margery’s voice trembled slightly. “Tell me, how will you get yourself out of this keep? I have seen only the salley port as entrance or exit and that is well guarded.”

Jessamyn kept her voice level and her tone light. She had to reassure Margery, for the maid was essential to the plan’s success. “I can easily create a distraction for the guards.”

“And if that fails?”

Jessamyn bit her lip in thought for a moment. “If all else fails, I shall resort to bribery from the little of my dowry that I will keep with me. Guardsmen never have enough money. All I need is for the guards to look the other way long enough for me to leave the keep unseen.”

“Oh, I’d not thought of that. Still, I cannot like it. My place is by your side. Who knows what that Scottish devil will do to you if you are caught? Life could become very unpleasant. Perhaps it would be best to resign ourselves to our lot.” Margery finished braiding Jess’s locks and began to pin the braid in place.

Unable to shake her head without spoiling her maid’s hard work, Jessamyn added strength to her voice. “No. I will not be sold like livestock.”

“There, all finished.” Margery’s hands dropped away. “Still, perhaps you should reconsider … ”

“Why?” Jessamyn patted the completed coiffure and straightened her sleeves while Margery bent to twitch the skirt’s hem into place.

“You need allies too, my lady. ’Tis not right for me to be your only champion.” Margery’s worried tone spoke volumes more than her words.

“With luck, we’ll not be here long enough to need a champion. You should remember that when you are among your fellow servants. If the friendships you form are too strong, you and others will suffer when we go. I cannot afford to leave you behind.”

Margery sobered and straightened to her full, if diminutive, height as she needlessly dusted the shoulders of her lady’s tunic. A dumpling of a woman, Margery always had difficulty looking stern.

“I thank you for the warning, my lady. I would never abandon you, and should need be, I could always return here once I see you safely to the convent in York.”

“That may not be as easy as you imagine, if the folk here believe you betrayed them.”

“Then they cannot be the friends they appear to be, and I shall return to my home in Blancmer, as originally planned.” She handed Jessamyn the cloak. “There, you are ready.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Jessamyn hugged her maid, then swept from the room.

Margery’s information about the baron’s orders to his clan confirmed her own thinking and inflamed Jessamyn’s ire again.
He imagines I can be cowed by a little silence, a few cold shoulders, and a bit of rough treatment. I’ll show him.

While she plotted her strategy for antagonizing Raeb MacKai, she admired the craftsmanship of the thick stone walls and defensive features of the staircase.

She stepped off the last tread, pointed her nose in the air, and glided past the guards without a glance, as if she’d not a care in the world and every right to be where she was. From the corner of her eye she saw the guards shift as if to intercept her. Then they stopped and exchanged embarrassed glances that she ignored.

Headed for the stables, she passed through the great hall, aiming for the large, open doors at the far end. She passed a number of women scrubbing the stone floor before covering the surface with new rushes and sweet-smelling herbs. Even though the women appeared to ignore her, she could see the curious glances cast her way, just as she’d noticed the guards’ movements. She walked quickly, for she was eager to assure herself of her mare’s well-being.

She found the stable tucked into a far corner below the battlements. Beside it stood several enclosures obviously meant to provide a safe, open air space for training, injured animals, or breeding mares with young foals. Three sides were fenced. The farthest side was formed by the keep’s high defensive wall. Odd that at this time of day all of the enclosures were empty. She did not recall seeing any horses in use as she’d walked the length of the large bailey. She’d seen a fair number of men-at-arms training in the yard but none mounted. No doubt some of the baron’s mounts were being used by guards who patrolled the holding. The rest could only be in the stable. Though perhaps he allowed his breeding herd to roam free in the area beyond the cliffs.

Shaking her head at the conundrum, she slipped through the stable doors, pausing inside to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dust motes floated in a sunbeam that pierced the gloom from an opening high above the loft. The familiar scents of straw, leather, and horse filled her nostrils, but the only sound was the greeting whinny of a single horse.
Persia
! Jessamyn would know that laughing whicker anywhere. She hurried to follow the noise to a spacious stall where Persia stood munching hay.

Jessamyn fumbled with the latch, but soon she was inside, stroking the mare’s sleek, white coat and checking her for any sign of injury or maltreatment.

“You seem to be well enough, my friend.” Jessamyn laid her cheek against the mare’s neck.

Persia tilted her ears, snorted, and shook her head, dislodging Jessamyn and forcing her to stand aside, as if to say, “I’m busy eating. Do not bother me.”

Jessamyn searched for, and found, a brush. “Very well, your highness. Enjoy your breakfast. I’m sure you will not mind if I brush the dust from you. I know how much you dislike being dirty.”

“Are ye daft, lass?”

Heart racing, Jessamyn leapt and turned all in one movement, placing herself defensively between Persia and the man who’d spoken from just outside the stall.

A craggy-faced fellow—as tall and gangly as Margery was petite and round—studied Jess. Lively curiosity sparkled in pale blue eyes under thick, raised gray brows.

“I spent a good long while cleaning that wee, pretty lady.” He gestured at Persia.

Jess’s heart steadied as he spoke.

“Even combed her mane and started to braid it,” he said. “Then down she goes, rolling herself around in the fresh straw I’d laid for her. Wallowed like a pig until that lovely white coat was yellow wi’ dust. Looked like a daisy she did, all yellow in her middle wi’ that shining white on her belly, legs, and head.”

Jessamyn laughed. She could not be cold or rude to someone who so clearly loved horses and understood them, too. “I was having a jest with Persia, for I know only too well how much she loves a dust bath, especially right after I’ve spent a good long while, as you say, cleaning her up. I swear she does it just to have me brush her clean again, for she certainly did not beleaguer my father’s stable lads that way.”

The man’s eyes brightened. “So ye tend yer own steed, do ye?”

“Whenever I can.” Jessamyn turned back to brushing Persia. “’Tis only right to treat her with the care and courtesy she gives me.”

The man nodded and pursed his lips. “Happen she plays that dusty bath trick on ye, cause like me, ye’ve got the right touch wi’ the brush and comb.” He moved into the stall, took a position on Persia’s opposite side and set to combing snarls from the mare’s mane.

“Happen she may. Persia’s very clever.”

He nodded. “Aye, Lady Du Grace. ’Tis easy to see that.”

“Please call me Jessamyn. I never stand on ceremony with a man who loves horses as I do.”

He tugged his forelock. “Thankee, yer ladyship … I mean, Jessamyn. I’m Angus MacEich, t’ baron’s
steudmarcaiche
.”

She cocked her head in question.

“Ye dinna understand me. The English would say master of the horse. Though ’tis naught to be
marcaiche
of these days at Dungarob.” A touch of sorrow colored his voice and a wistful look dimmed his gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Ye see th’ empty stalls all around us?”

She nodded. “I thought the other horses out somewhere being ridden.”

“Bain’t no other horses, no MacKai horses. Even the steeds owned by our knights are no enough to fill a quarter of this stable. Save for th’ baron’s courser, which ’tis really his youngest sister’s, and two mounts—no better’n cart nags—shared by his sisters, th’ MacKai stables are empty and have been so these last ten years.”

“Why?” Jessamyn blinked, but her hand remained gentle as she finished brushing Persia then joined Angus in braiding the mare’s mane. “The MacKai stables are famous. Even in England their destriers and coursers are highly prized. I imagined my father arranged the match between me and the baron just so he and my godfather could acquire some MacKai breeding stock.”

“Du Grace. Aye, I should have recognized the name. Yer da has been trying to get his hands on one of our studs since before ye were born, but th’ old baron—the present man’s father—was too canny to let any of the breeding stock out of MacKai control.”

“Then how … ?”

“Treachery, ’tis how.” The horse master’s hands stilled, and he studied Jessamyn with narrowed eyes. Then nodding to himself, he continued. “Th’ lyin’, thievin’ Earl of Strathnaver stole what belonged to th’ MacKai clan. Divil take him.” Angus spat. “’Tis no sin to be glad the old earl and his heir are dead. ’Tis the younger son, Colin, now wed to our own sweet Sorcha, who is earl. We’ve all great hopes for the peace between MacKai and Strathnaver. Though it hasna helped us get our horses back.”

“Was the earl the baron’s overlord?” Perhaps fealty had demanded more than the baron wished to give.

“Nae.” Angus shook his head. “’Tis no like that here in the Highlands. Each man owns his own and shares as he can when there’s need. But th’ earl had plenty of horses and no need to steal or kill to get more, especially from a man he called friend.”

Jessamyn frowned. “Are you saying that under the guise of friendship this earl killed the present baron’s father and stole his livelihood?”

Angus looked her in the eye.

“’Tis just what I’m saying. Lamed fair Sorcha, th’ present baron’s eldest sister, too, when her da refused a marriage contract between her and th’ earl’s older son, Brice. Th’ earl was determined, and when he couldna get what he wanted by fair means or trickery, he turned to murder and thieving. ’Tis why the MacKai needs yer dowry, t’ say naught of the surprise gift this lovely lady is.” He patted the mare’s neck and scratched the base of an ear. “Ye give our Raeb a
bairn
or two, and the clan will be well on its way back to what it once was.”

Jessamyn felt her cheeks heat. She thanked heaven for the poor light in the stable. Still, she was not afraid to speak her mind. “Your baron is unlikely to receive dowry, mare, or children from me given the manner in which I’ve been treated.”

“Heh, heh,” the old fellow chuckled. “I’m no certain what bee th’ MacKai’s gotten int’ his
sgrog
, but ye pay it no mind.” Angus pulled a handful of oats from a pouch at his belt and fed them to Persia. “Th’ lad will see his mistake soon enough. Then ye’ll discover what a
cuirteil cuaras
he is.”

“
Cuirteil cuaras
?” She wrinkled her brow.

Angus’s mouth formed a sly grin. “Ye’ll know th’ meaning of that soon enough as well. ’Tis no a lass ‘twixt here and Dundee would refuse Raeb MacKai anything for no more’n a wee smile.”

Jessamyn said nothing as she put away the comb and brush and helped Angus saddle Persia.
Baron MacKai will have to do a lot more than smile to gain my forgiveness. Even then I’ll not allow a charming rogue to steal my dreams.
It was a shame he and his clan had troubles, but he’d have to find solutions somewhere else. She would not be denied the chance to live life as she chose it, to breed and train the horses she loved for the benefit of God and the church.

• • •

“Tell Lady Jessamyn and my sisters that I regret I am delayed on an urgent matter but will join them at the earliest opportunity.”

Dougal nodded and left.

Raeb smiled as he climbed the stairs to the barracks room where Rhuad MacFearann recovered. The man wished to discuss a vital and private matter that he claimed could not wait. That meant Lady Jessamyn would be the one waiting for her betrothed to show up.
I wonder if I can prolong my time with Rhuad enough to avoid the lady altogether
? No doubt she was used to being first in a man’s attentions
.
With a bit of luck, she might get angry enough at this discourtesy to reject the betrothal. Then, in good time, she could be sent back to her father, and Dungarob would be well rid of her.

Raeb didn’t bother knocking but opened the door to find MacFearann standing before a mirror and wiping the last of his shaving soap from his face.