Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (21 page)

“Rest,” he said again. “I know you did not
sleep well this night past, and so you must sleep now. Do not leave
this chamber until I come for you this eve for supper. Aye?” He
waited for her nod of agreement then turned and departed the
chamber before the fire in his loins made him change his mind about
bedding her, made him slake his need deep inside her.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, and after a
much-needed, tho’ guilt ridden, rest, Morgana pulled the needle
strung with dark blue thread through the cloth that would, when the
scene was completed, be her son’s tapestry showing his father on
his steed, with the MacVie forest and burn in the background. She
was also working on another, larger one, which was to be hung in
the great hall. It depicted Robert, in all his knight’s armor, on
the tourney field with lance in hand, charging toward his opponent.
The recollection of his bravery and expertise, of his handsome,
active body, brought a sigh to her lips. Even with the queasy
stomach, and the weariness she’d felt earlier, she still wished he
would have lain with her, taken her, as she’d hoped, as she’d
asked, as she’d wanted.

Feeling restless, she stood up, dropping the
square of cloth, and walked to the window. She could see that work
was ending for the day for most of those down in the courtyard and
realized with a start that she’d idled near to all the day away
already and the sun would be setting in but a few more hours. If
she wanted to complete the stitching on the burn this afternoon,
she must get back to it without delay.

As she was about to turn back to her chair
to take up her sewing again, a clamor began at the gates,
portending a visitor’s arrival. Soon, a man on horseback, and of
some prominence, as evidenced by his dress, entered the courtyard
with but a few men riding in his wake. Tho’ she could not discern
his features from this distance, nor his heraldic badge, still
Morgana felt a twinge of recognition. ‘Twas not until Robert strode
out to meet him, and after the man had dismounted and they both
began walking toward the entrance to the keep, that she at last
knew his identity.
Guy de Burgh!
A thrill of pleasure at
seeing her old friend was instantly replaced by worry that he was
here on some dire duty that would not bode well for Robert.
Is
this to do with the war between the MacVie’s and the de
Burghs?

* * *

It had shaken Robert more than he wanted to
admit when he’d been advised that a small band of de Burghs were at
his gate, saying they came with no quarrel, and requesting entry.
Of course, he granted his permission. He could do naught otherwise,
as they were his closest neighbors, and he, at least, wanted a
final end to the ill-will between the two families. And, this was
as good a time as any to try to get some clearer answers about why
the feud between his father and Roger de Burgh lasted so long, and
was so virulent that it nearly brought Robert’s clan to ruin.

He’d heard not one word from, nor had his
scouts at the border the two families shared seen one sign of,
Roger de Burgh, or his men, since Robert’s father’s death—and
Robert had certainly had no reason or desire to continue the war,
so had kept the peace with silence and distance, and hard work on
the furbishing instead.

Now, he could not help but wonder if the old
man was ready to take up the fight again. Well, if ‘twere the case,
then Robert would do all that he must to squelch the man’s
bloodlust first, and keep the calm.

But, if the man would not….

Well, at least Robert’s outer wall was near
to complete now, and he, and his clan, would stand and fight, and
this time, win not just the battle, but the war!

As he approached the guests, he cleared his
thoughts and focused on the man at the lead, and was shaken again
when he realized ‘twas not the father, but the son—the man who’d
taken his sister’s virtue, then broken her heart, sending her into
a season of immoderate sensuality—who’d requested entrance. And,
Robert recalled with a hot shaft of jealousy through his middle,
Guy de Burgh was also the man who’d fled with Morgana and attempted
a clandestine marriage to her.

A low growl erupted from him and Robert
gritted his teeth. His fists clenched reflexively as he continued
toward him, but he willed them open. For the sake of what was best
for his clan, he must not grind the devil to a pulp without more
current provocation. And, the man did tell them that he came
bearing no quarrel.

* * *

The flash of violent hatred that passed o’er
Robert’s countenance before he quashed it with a renewed look of
wary welcome and keen interest sent a jolt of alarm through Guy.
Tho’ he knew he still had much to make amends for where his vile
treatment of Isobail was concerned, still he believed most of that
enmity toward him would have been put to rest now that he’d paid
Robert’s full debt to the King.

Well, mayhap ‘twas best to behave as if he
believed naught amiss.

When Robert was but a few feet from him and
said, “I welcome you to my holding, Guy de Burgh,” Guy slid from
his horse and dipped a nod to Robert saying, “My thanks, Laird
MacVie. I come bearing tidings that affect both our families.”

“Take these men to the alewife’s cot,” his
host said o’er his shoulder to the man that Guy assumed to be
Robert’s lieutenant.

On a turn toward the entrance to the keep,
Robert replied to Guy, “Come inside and we’ll share some ale as
well while we speak.”

Guy was only able to gain a small,
surreptitious impression of the furbishing thus far completed
inside the walls of the fortress as the two of them walked together
in silence. He’d seen the expansion that was being done to the
northeast wall, of course, as they came up the road that led to the
gates of the MacVie fortress, but was quite curious to see the
changes within the walls, also. Ah, well, mayhap another time, if
all went as he hoped.

“How is your lady, Morgana?” Guy said into
the silence that remained between them after Robert had ordered
some ale be brought to them and they’d both settled on chairs by
the hearth.

* * *

The fireball of malignant jealousy spread
once again through Robert’s center, but was quickly replaced by
seething determination. “She is well. She bears my son in her
belly.” Robert would be damned to the fiery pits of hell before
he’d tell this man, this competitor in all things, anything further
regarding his wife. “What are these tidings you bring?”

By the rapid lift and drop of one side of
Guy’s countenance, as well as the spark of humor that flared e’er
so briefly in his eye, Robert knew he’d somehow revealed his
weakness—his jealousy—to the man, but Guy answered his question
without comment on the other, and his countenance grew grim as he
said, “My father is dead.”

* * *

Tho’ she was expected to await Robert’s
arrival to escort her down to the evening meal, and ‘twas at least
an hour until that time, Morgana, with a burst of rebellion she
rarely acted upon, due to her strict upbringing with the nuns, and
her natural ill-ease at being unable to speak, flew to the chamber
door, flung it wide and swept out the door, down the corridor, and
on down the stairs. ‘Twas truly exhilarating! A bubble of mirth
floated up and she felt her throat work in silent giggles.

By the time she’d made it to the bottom, she
could hear the deep sounds of two men’s voices coming from behind
the closed doors of the great hall, and she did not hesitate, but
simply heaved them open and stepped inside. The noise from her
entry turned the heads of the two men toward her and, catching
Guy’s eye, she sent him a wide smile and dipped a courtesy.

* * *

Robert’s eyes narrowed as he watched with
interest his wife’s renewed vigor: Her cheeks, pinkened with
health; the sparkle of her lovely smile; the limpid glimmer of
merriment and wonder—and attraction?—in her blue eyes; all of which
combined, seemed a near to palpable bright beam of light aimed
entirely at, and for,
Guy de Burgh
.

For the second time that day, Robert’s fists
clenched at his sides, and this time, he did not relax them. He
wanted desperately to tell her to go about her business, to leave
them to their dealings, yet he knew if he did so, especially
knowing his wife and Guy’s past bond, he’d only prove to his guest
his shaken faith in Morgana’s loyalty that much more by doing so.
“Morgana, I believe you are acquainted with our neighbor, Guy de
Burgh from your time at King William’s court?” Lifting his arm, he
summoned Morgana with a gesture of his hand. “Come, give him your
welcome.”

* * *

An hour-and-a-half later, Robert nearly
choked on his half-swallowed bite of meat, when first Vika, who sat
on one side of the man, and then his wife, who sat on the other,
both hurried to give Guy a drink from their cups after he’d burned
his tongue on some portion or other of his meal. Vika had had a
seemingly miraculous return of vigor at learning of Guy de Burgh’s
arrival earlier; in fact, had all but prostrated herself and spread
her legs for him right there in front of all, from the moment she’d
entered the great hall for the evening meal, which—Robert gritted
his teeth—Robert had been obliged to allow Guy to partake of when
his clearly-smitten wife had proffered the invitation along with
her welcome earlier.

After clearing his throat of the blockage
with a long pull on his ale, and then clearing his throat loudly
enough to gain the others’ brief glances, he dipped determinedly
back into his trencher and turned his mind to the other matter:
Roger de Burgh’s death.

His wife’s interruption earlier had
curtailed all discussion in regard to the tidings and how ‘twould
affect the bitter connection between the two families, and now
Robert wondered if Guy de Burgh intended more than only a
discontinuance of violence, if he intended, instead, an actual
alliance between them.

Again, Robert lifted his gaze briefly to the
ridiculous tableau playing out before him, but this time quelled
the ire that immediately rose within him so that he might study the
man and his behavior with more acuity, and without prejudice. His
eyes narrowed. Aye, ‘twas clear by the easy smile, the relaxed
posture, the amused look in Guy de Burgh’s eye, the complete lack
of tension in any portion of his visage or frame, that the man was
quite content—nay willing—nay,
determined
to thrust himself
into the good graces of the lot of them.
Especially the
ladies.

* * *

Guy had had enough experience with jealous
husbands, suitors, and competitors to know Robert was near at his
limit, and ‘twas no doubt past time that he disengage from the
attentions of the women and turn his own attention back to his
host, especially as he’d not as yet accomplished what he’d come
here to do. Which was to end the feud between the two families for
good.

“I would beg to continue our earlier
conversation in privy with you, Laird MacVie, after our meal, if
you will?” he said, and was relieved when Robert gave him a silent
nod, tho’ the man’s eyes watched him with much distrust in their
depths as Robert lifted his ale to his lips.

Thankfully, the ladies took their leave not
many moments later, and, after the remains of the meal were
cleared, with the great hall once again void of all prying ears,
Robert returned to the hearth area with Guy following.

Guy had, of course, been privy to chatter
regarding Robert’s brusque constraint in words and in manner while
they both were at court, and, as well, Isobail herself had told him
very much the same of her young brother during their long-ago
amour. Therefore, it did not come as too great a surprise to Guy
when Robert did little more than rest his hands on the arms of his
chair and give him a dark look without a word spoken to prompt Guy
further to begin what e’er he was fixed to speak upon.

“My father took a bad fall from his steed
two moons past, and tho’ it seemed in the beginning that he would
recover his wits and his health, alas, he did not. Upon the dire
mischance, I was, of course, sent for, but only arrived a fortnight
ago from Pembroke, and found that I was too late to say my
farewells. As I am his only heir, I have been released from my
duties to Guillaume le Maréchal so that I may take up my duties as
lord and baron of our lands here.” He paused, waited for Robert’s
nod, then continued, “I will begin my journey to King William’s
court on the morrow, where I will give him the tidings of my
father’s death, and swear my allegiance to him as well, but before
I do so, I want to end the war our fathers waged between our two
families.”

* * *

Robert had every intention of ending the war
waged between his father and Guy de Burgh’s, but first, he wanted
answers. Narrowing his gaze, he leaned toward the man who’d so
vilely used Robert’s gentle, beautiful sister. “I know—at least, I
believe I know—why my father despised yours, but why, pray, did
yours despise mine? There was naught my father did that any man
would have done were his own daughter so viciously and openly
spurned by her seducer.”

Guy gave him a surprised look. “You know
not?”

Robert ground his teeth.
If I knew, why
would I ask, you pretty-faced pustule!
“Nay,” he growled.

The chamber went very still, the only sound,
a nervous clearing of the throat from his guest. Finally, when
Robert was near to yanking the man up by the neck of his indigo
tunic, he responded at last: “Your father…. My mother…. God’s
teeth!” he exclaimed, scrubbing the back of his neck, then doing
the same to his cheek. “I did not foresee the need to reveal to you
this wretched tale.”

A sickening knot of dread formed in Robert’s
gut. He needed naught further to be said—in fact, he desired that
it not be with a savage vengeance. “Aye, we shall call an end to
the strife, then.” He stood. “Come, I am sure you have much to do
in preparation for your departure on the morrow. I will walk with
you to the courtyard.”