Snow Raven (26 page)

They halted in a sheltered copse of pine and spruce and larch, and Brodie sighed with relief as he climbed down to check on the horses. Here the storm was held somewhat at bay by the windbreak the trees provided. Merry glanced around the little clearing, clutching her hood around her chilled face, and for a moment she forgot her discomfort. The scene might have been plucked right from a Hilliard miniature.

Snow-flocked trees ringed the rolling hills, and the land sloped gently downward to meet with the plains of Forfarshire. They traveled beside a small stream, frozen in time by the winter temperatures. The snow was unblemished for miles in every direction, until Ran and his men dismounted and moved about.

A short time later, the winter sun slipped out from behind a cloud. Rays of sunshine streamed down, briefly turning the frozen stream to a glittering rainbow of colors. It seemed to shift and move, as if the icy waters suddenly had a life of their own.

“Look at the stream,” Merry said to Nell.

“Aye. ’Tis a lovely little burn.” Nell shivered. “Och, mayhap the kelpies live here. ’Tis said they favor such places.”

“Kelpies?”

Nell regarded her with amazement. “Dinna tell me ye haven’t heard tale of them, even in England. Why, lass, surely ye must hae heard the stories as a bairn, about the water spirits.”

Merry shook her head. “Nay.”

Nell frowned and lowered her voice, as if fearing the mere mention of the kelpies would summon them to her side. “’Tis said they take the form of horses, and lure good Christian folk to their deaths. The most famous of all ’tis the Each Uisge, a steed who tricks mortals into riding it, and then races ’wi them into the loch and eats all but their livers.”

Merry couldn’t resist chuckling. “Maybe Black Cullen’s horse is a kelpie.”

“Milady, dinna laugh! ’Tis verra serious.” The other woman glanced about fearfully, and her hand lowered to rest protectively upon the sleeping Ashet. “They hunger for the wee ones most of all. The power of innocence is great, milady. They feed on it and become ever stronger.”

Nell’s words were too ominous to be believed, but Merry remembered how she’d shrugged off Mother MacDougall’s prophecy.
Dinna mess wi’ things ye canna understand
, she’d overheard Hertha telling one of the kitchen maids at Auchmull. She shivered, suddenly wishing Ran and the others would hurry up.

* * *

BRODIE DETACHED THE HORSES from the wagon and led them down to the stream. With the handle of his knife, he broke the ice in several places so the animals could drink. Ran assumed a watch at the crest of a nearby hill, hunkered down on his heels, alertly scanning the peaceful valley for any sign of trouble. Merry saw him leap to his feet a split second before a hoarse cry rent the air.

“
Buadhaich
!”

Nell clutched at Merry’s arm. “God preserve us. ’Tis a Highlander war cry!”

They heard Ran’s claymore slide from its sheath with a furious hiss that sliced the morning air. He ran down the hill, his deep voice momentarily drowning out the shouts of the invaders.

“Gil! The women!”

Gilbert leaped up from where he was resting on a fallen log, grabbed two of the horses by their bridles and hurried through the snow back to the wagon. “Get out of there. Now!” he shouted at the two women. Merry and Nell moved to obey, each of them simultaneously reaching for Ashet. Merry won. She snatched the baby to her breast just as Gilbert reached up for her. He swung her down, then sent her stumbling in the direction of one of the horses.

Gilbert lifted Nell down from the wagon and immediately thrust her up again on the bare back of the other horse. When he saw Merry hadn’t yet mounted, unsure of how to ride without a saddle, he made an impatient noise and then hurried back to help her. He heaved her up onto the horse’s back just as the clang of steel echoed in the glen.

Gilbert swung up lithely behind Merry, digging his heels hard into the animal’s sides. The mare bolted into a brisk gallop, while Merry clutched Ashet with one hand and the horse’s coarse mane with the other. Nell’s horse obediently followed, both mounts weaving rapidly through the close trees.

Merry risked one glance backward, just as the plaid-covered figures of the enemy came boiling over the hills.

“Told him never trust a snake,” she heard Gilbert mutter, and then their horse veered sharply, directed by a subtle change in pressure from his knees. Merry realized he was an expert rider, and had no need of bit or bridle. Just like Ran, Gilbert Lindsay had yet to meet a horse he could not master. He drove the plunging steed through the snowdrifts, away from the dangers of battle. Nell’s mount was close behind, the woman weeping with dismay at the circumstances.

“Hist!” Gilbert ordered her over his shoulder. “Do you want them to follow us?”

Nell fell silent then, though sobs still shook her slight frame. Finally Gil judged it safe to slow their wild flight, and drew the horse to a halt in the midst of a protective bracken patch. He swung down from the steaming animal, extending his arms to Merry. When her feet touched the ground, she nearly crumpled from exhaustion. Holding the baby was all that prevented her from doing so.

Nell wasn’t in much better shape. She immediately hurried to Merry’s side, tear tracks frozen on her cheeks.

“The bairn?” she cried.

“She’s fine, Nell. It never even woke her up.” Merry peeled back the edge of the blanket and smiled down at the slumbering baby, whose tuft of pale hair peeked above the heather-colored blankets.

Nell gasped. “Brodie! He was fetchin’ us water, down at the stream.”

“He’s with the others,” Gilbert put in. “Sit down and be quiet, Nell. Any undue noise will bring naught but trouble down on our heads.”

Nell shot a surprised glance at him, and Merry, too, was rather bemused by the brisk, no-nonsense edge to his manner. Usually Gil was the clown, the proverbial jester who kept things light. Never had she seen him more serious.

Merry drew Nell aside, and the two women sank down, exhausted, in the snow. There they could only wait, frozen with cold and dread. Luckily the storm had passed on. The shrill cries of battle and the ringing clash of swords and shields eventually faded into the distance, with the coming of twilight. After hobbling the horses, Gil couldn’t resist sneaking back to see what had happened. It was obvious he was itching to join his clansmen, and mayhap resentful to be the one assigned to protect the women.

After he was gone, Nell burst into quiet sobs again.

“I canna bear the waiting,” she cried. “I hae a right awful feeling about this, milady!”

Merry quickly sought to distract her. “Why would anyone attack a peaceful band of travelers?”

“Och, several reasons, milady. First, ’tis sure to be some variety of Maclean. They’ve been stealin’ Lindsay cattle for years. We’re nae far from Badanloch here. Likely we just stumbled on top of them this time. They’re a pack of lazy curs, they are, and would as lief steal as hunt for themselves.”

“They’re probably hungry,” Merry said. “Hertha said ’tis been an early, hard winter.”

“Dinna make excuses for those traitors,” Nell sniffed sharply. Then remembering who her mistress was, and where they were going, she apologized. “I think Black Cullen also believes yer usurping Lady Blair’s position, milady. When ye wed Lord Ranald, she will no longer be Lady Lindsay. His rights to trespass on Lindsay lands and Ran’s tolerance will end. He kens this and wants to strike first. Mayhap this was just a warning.”

A short time later, Brodie appeared to fetch them, his freckled face split wide with a lopsided grin. “They’ve a’run!” he cried to the women. “Turned tail and ran back to their hidey-hole, like the puir bit craturs they are!”

Nell rose with the baby clutched in her arms. “Grady?”

He shrugged. “I dinna ken, Nell. I only saw Lord Ran. Law, but the mon can fight! Fierce as a badger and twice as fast.” Brodie was bursting with pride at the rout.

“Can we go back?” Merry asked anxiously. Though Brodie’s words had assured her Ran was all right, she wanted to see as much for herself.

“Aye. I suppose the horses hae rested enough now. Up ye go, milady. Hold tight.”

They rode back at a more sedate pace, though Nell could hardly restrain herself from kicking her mount for more speed. The first thing the women saw as they rode into the little glen were the fallen clansmen. Though twice as many unfamiliar tartans dotted the field, Nell only had eyes for a man at the far end. She gave a sharp little cry.

“Nell!” Merry cried, and at the sound of her voice, Ran appeared and caught the fainting woman as she fell. He lowered Nell gently to the snow, baby still cradled safely in her arms. Even when she swooned, Nell never lost her grip on the child.

Ran straightened and looked up at Merry. His breccan was drenched with blood, and she gasped softly, wondering if he was injured. Yet there was a fierce, hot glow in his dark eyes that told her otherwise. It was a stranger’s blood. For a moment, Merry saw the ghost of an ancient Highland warrior in him. Then she blinked, and the illusion vanished.

“What of Nell’s brother—Grady?” she whispered.

Ran shook his head. “He’s seriously hurt, lass.” Merry closed her eyes in momentary anguish for poor Nell, but when she opened them again, he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THREE OF THE ATTACKERS had lost their lives in the brief and violent skirmish, and a handful of men were wounded on both sides. The dead were buried there, though the frozen ground proved hard to dig. Ran promised the others the bodies would be retrieved later for proper burial. He would give no more fodder to those who would accuse him of being a savage. He decided to press on to Edzell, since they were crossing the plains of Forfarshire and the threat of another storm was imminent. The space in the rear of the wagon was now needed to carry the wounded men, however, and Merry’s trunk was left behind.

Though she quickly regained consciousness, Nell had yet to speak or even weep. She seemed numbly unaware of the goings-on around her, and sat silent and huddled beside her mistress. Even Ashet could not rouse Nell from her dark little world, though she methodically put the hungry baby to her breast and nursed her as usual. Grady lay unmoving in the rear of the wagon, seriously weakened from loss of blood. A tourniquet placed around the injury had saved the leg where he had taken a deep blow, almost to the bone, but without better facilities and competent tending, the odds were slim. Growing slimmer by the hour.

Merry was gravely worried about Nell. It seemed the closer they got to Edzell, the further the woman retreated into herself. She had lost her young husband, her baby, and now stood to lose her only living kin, her brother Grady. Soon she would be a mere shell of the vibrant young lady she had been. She saw Ran watching Nell with concern, too. His dark gaze was inscrutable, but she sensed his sympathy as he rode by.

The remainder of the journey was accomplished in relative silence. Whatever anticipation existed in light of the ceremony to come had fled with the disaster of the attack. Merry feared what might result from the skirmish. Accusations, a midnight ride for revenge, another clash, yet more tinder added to the already blazing fires of age-old resentment. It hardly seemed a positive omen on her wedding day.

Soon she was able to channel her attentions to the mighty castle rising before them, where the plains of Forfarshire ended at the base of the Grampian Mountains. Solemn, imposing Edzell was enormous in comparison with Auchmull. The castle was built around a quadrangle, the central keep consisting of two vaulted stories, the main tower decorated with double rows of corbels arranged in checkerboard fashion below the parapets.

They were met by a party of men from Lord Deuchar’s ranks, who promptly took charge of the injured in the wagon and led the travelers’ animals to shelter. Merry joined Ran on Dearg for the last leg, his grip on her waist both possessive and reassuring. She felt a true Highland lady as they clattered through the entrance on the spirited steed.

Hertha had said it rivaled Dunnottar in extent, and had no peer in the region. Merry decided this was well believable. As the party entered the inner ward, she noted the large garden on the south end, overhung with great trees now flocked with snow. The walls there were exquisitely decorated, divided into panels with recesses for flowers cut out checker wise. Above those were stars pierced with loopholes for defensive purposes. A tier higher, there were recesses containing marble busts, and spaced between these were elegant bas-reliefs. As the horse she rode plodded past the garden, Merry saw the bas-reliefs represented the Celestial Deities, the Sciences, and the Virtues. There was also a summer house and a bath house attached to the rear of the wall.

Even a devotee of the Tudor Court could not fail to be impressed by Edzell or the welcome that ensued. While their mounts and servants were properly attended, Ran and Merry were led inside the keep. Two guards flanked the front of the castle, armed with Lochaber axes and shields, forming a guard of honor.

When they entered, Lord and Lady Deuchar were waiting to receive them. Darra greeted them with her customary flair, garbed in deep blue velvet and cloth-of-silver, and wearing an heirloom set of sapphires. Kinross looked no less elegant in his scarlet breeches and velvet doublet paned with gold, his red leather jerkin hung heavy with gold ornaments. The couple knew of the attack on the travelers as a messenger had been sent ahead, and so their mien was sober now, but nonetheless the welcome was genuine.

Darra hugged Merry, and whispered a word of reassurance. “I am so glad you are safe. I also wished to say, you are doing the right thing, dear.”

“I hope so.” Merry nodded and glanced around the great hall. The entrance resembled that of a cathedral, for it soared to the roof. The staircase ascending from it was richly carved and decorated. An oak-paneled gallery led them to the main hall, where the ceiling was ornamented with carved moldings and tracery, the walls lined with open bookcase housing a rare collection. The room was furnished with rich green silk damasks, ottomans and inlaid tables. A chimney dominated one end of the hall, stained-glass windows lit up the room from the west. Suits of armor, shields, halberds, and two-handed swords were arranged around the walls along with jewel-toned tapestries and paintings.