Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 17

  She also enjoyed watching the clan from her bedchamber window on the third floor of the castle. When she wasn’t needed downstairs, she set her weaving loom beside the window, and glanced out often.

  Beitris rarely saw Master Balric, and paid little attention to him when she did, until the day one of the other chambermaids felt unwell. Beitris did not mind the extra work, for the truth be told, Master Balric kept his surroundings as neat as a pin. His writing room was strictly off limits.

  After that, she encountered him more often, and he was pleasant, but he paid no extra attention to her and she paid no extra attention to him.

  EACH DAY AFTER THE roofs were removed from Kester and Lindsey’s cottages, Rory worked to carefully remove the stones and put them in a cart. Each evening, he hooked up the mule, pulled the cart to the river, and then just as carefully set the stones in a pile. From those, he chose the ones that had a flat surface, in which he would someday chisel the English letters of Lindsey’s name. Moving the stones was hard work, but it helped ease his sorrow. In the meantime, Michael relieved him of his regular duties and assigned them to someone else.

  Grizel found herself even more ignored by men and women alike. Each time she encountered Kester; the elder woman shook her finger at her and walked away. Most of her day, Grizel walked in the glen or sat on a log near the edge of it hoping and praying Osgar would soon come back. At meals she flirted with Michael, and normally found a delightful way to annoy Elena, but that entertainment was growing old. About the only one who would talk to her at all was Beitris and even then it was only when Grizel asked a question. She still wanted to scream at the incompetent maid daily, but she dared not upset Michael – not until the day came when she needed him no more.

  Elena kept what she saw of a shirtless Michael that night in the hallway to herself, but it served to diminish her affection for him. She wanted to disbelieve her own eyes and ears, but somehow she could not. She was pleasant enough when he talked to her, but she did not go up to the top of the wall, or seek to be with him at other times. If Michael noticed her reluctance, he said nothing. Yet, after the passing of nearly two weeks, she desperately missed being with him. There was only one thing she could do and that was to confront him. She was about to do just that when yet another unwanted encounter with Grizel persuaded her not to.

  “DO YOU LOVE HIM?” GRIZEL demanded to know in the upstairs hallway.

  “‘Tis none of your affair,” Elena answered. She tried walking around the woman she hated most in the world, but Grizel blocked her path. “Why has your guard not come back?”

  Grizel grinned a nauseating sort of grin. “All is not yet settled.”

  “Or you are lying.” Elena mocked. “Where is this lad who threatens to kill you?”

  “Dare you call me a liar?”

  Elena scoffed. “I do, and shall at every opportunity.” She shoved Grizel to the side and walked past her.

  “I carry Michael’s child.”

  Elena stopped, slowly turned around, and stared into eyes she was certain were lying. “You may carry a child, but ‘tis not Michael’s.”

  “Does he not often come to me at night, or have you never noticed?” From the look on Elena’s face, Grizel knew she hit a nerve, and was not surprised when Elena simply walked away.

  THE CHILDREN HAD NOT yet gathered when Elena walked into the glen with Samuel and Brenna. She urged them to go play with the others, and cherished the time alone to consider what she should do. She caught a glimpse of Kester and Birdie slipping into the forest for morning prayers, and then spotted Michael heading down one of the paths. Thankfully, he did not notice her.

  Elena did not realize she had a puzzled expression on her face as she tried to assess the situation. She doubted Grizel had been in the glen long enough to be certain she carried a MacGreagor child, but it was possible. Whose child it was – was anyone’s guess. Every fiber of Elena’s being screamed that Michael would not do such a thing, but how well did she really know him? He appeared so annoyed by Grizel at meals, but in private was he just as easily tempted as Murran and Owen? Furthermore, if it was true, would an honorable Michael marry Grizel even knowing she had also been with Murran and Owen?

  Michael’s kiss seemed sincere, and normally she was a good judge of character, yet, she adored him and had since she and her brother first arrived. Was she blinded to his faults because of it? She feared she was. One thing was for sure – she intended to be blinded no more.

  When the children started to gather, she smiled and welcomed each with open arms. After the lesson for that day was complete, Elena hoped not to see much of Michael or Grizel, so she decided to spend as much of the day as possible with Kester and Birdie.

  Nevertheless, the intensity of Elena’s expression let those watching know something had upset her. There concerned whispers spread from person to person, until everyone knew something was amiss, save Michael.

  CHAPTER 10

  STILL SECURELY LOCKED up in his father’s dungeon, Tam was certain he was about to starve to death. He constantly shivered from the cold and the time between visits from his jailer seemed endless. At last, the door at the top of the stairs opened and let the light in. He shielded his eyes until they could adjust, and then greedily accepted the half bowl of food the guard passed to him under the door.

  “Why so little?” Tam asked. “Did Osgar not give you funds?”

  “Funds?” asked the guard. “A little, but think of it. Suppose your father summons you and finds you fit. What then? You know very well he gives all the scraps to the dogs.”

  Tam knew the guard was right, but hunger was hunger. “A little more is all I ask. I shall surely die if I am not fed, and can you not bring the cat to kill the rats?”

  At length, Barra nodded. He went back up the stairs and closed the door while an anxious Tam waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, the door opened again. Barra let down the cat, and then handed two slices of fresh bread through the bars to his captive.

  Tam was so hungry; he barely took a moment to nod his appreciation before he began stuffing the bread in his mouth.

  AND SO IT WAS THAT not a lad in the clan wanted anything to do with Grizel. Each time she tried to enter Owen’s small room in the bottom of the tower, he blocked her path and without a word, closed the door in her face. Murran wanted to see even less of her, bolted his door at night, and intentionally went the other way when he saw Grizel coming down a path. As well, he put the finishing touches on his work for Master Balric and was relieved to no longer spend time in the castle. Since Grizel had no interest in learning English, school was about the only place both Owen and Murran could count on escaping her. Owen learned a few words in English whether he liked it or not.

  Nevertheless, the two strong warriors had not yet truly made peace between them and Owen was bothered by it. Early one morning, he set out to pay the man he once called friend a visit. He found Murran working on Kester’s cart in the small shop next to his cottage.

  The instant Murran saw Owen standing in his doorway, he could not help but be a little alarmed. “Do you mean to call me out still?”

  “Nay.” Without being asked, Owen came in, found a new milking stool to sit on, and made himself as comfortable as a long-legged man could on a short stool. Only two of the three burial boxes Murran made remained, and Owen noticed. “I find my foolishness unbearable.”

  Murran set his hammer down, came around the table, folded his arms, and leaned against a wall. “As do I.” He stared at the floor for a long time before he said. “I find I feel the loss of Lindsey most painfully of a mornin’. For months I started Lindsey’s fire first thing. Today, I headed out to collect wood before I remembered, and even now I keep thinkin’ there is somethin’ I forgot to do.”

  “I feel her loss deeply as well. Who shall sell my forks in the marketplace? I cannae do it, I am too quick to anger. Lindsey was always so willin’ and now that I think of it, I dinna believe I once thanked her.”

  �
�I rarely spoke to her,” Murran admitted. “If I had taken the trouble, perhaps I might have guessed somethin’ was amiss. That day, I forgot to put the gratin’ back over Lindsey’s fire. If she had fallen in, I would never have forgiven myself.”

  “I have yet to hear why she did it. Do you know?”

  “There are rumors, but if Michael wished us to know, he would tell us. Or Kester would tell us, whether Michael wished it or not.”

  Owen smiled. “I have decided to set aside my fork makin’ and help Brandon build his shop. We need a place to sell our goods.”

  “I agree,” said Murran. “Michael fears there will not be enough rocks for both the bridge and Brandon’s shop, but I say we go up river and see what we can find. Shall we not take a ride this mornin’?”

  Owen happily nodded, took hold of the strong arm Murran offered and let his friend pull him up.

  FOR ELENA, IT WAS NEARLY impossible to avoid Grizel. She spent more time with the children, and with Kester and Birdie, but there were still two meals a day to endure in the company of Grizel. Nevertheless Elena was agreeable for the sake of Kester and the children.

  When it rained it was even worse, for all of those who did not have to be out, stayed inside. School was called off, and there was little to do. Beitris taught the children to play a new game and in Kester’s room, Elena visited while she mended a hole in Samuel’s shirt. Anything was better than a chance meeting with Grizel.

  At supper the night before, Master Balric mentioned that his writing desk was coming loose. He asked if Murran could fix it, and therefore neither Kester nor Elena were surprised to hear pounding in Balric’s writing room across the hall. What was surprising was the loud conversation that began in the hallway a few minutes later. Elena quickly set her sewing aside, and went to open the door a crack.

  Grizel’s back was to Elena, but it was apparent she had ahold of Murran’s arm and Murran was none too pleased about it. “Let go of me!”

  “‘Tis not my fault,” Grizel said.

  “What is not your fault?” Murran wanted to know.

  “I could not have known Lindsey was in love with you. How could I?”

  Shocked, Murran stared into eyes that were no longer inviting. He wrestled his arm free and then harshly took hold of both of Grizel’s shoulders. “What did you do?”

  “They blame me for Lindsey’s death, but I did nothin’ wrong.”

  He gripped her shoulders even tighter and began to shake her. “What did you do?”

  Suddenly frightened, she muttered, “I told her ‘twas me you love. You do still love me, do you not?”

  It took a moment for Murran to grasp the full meanin’ of her words. At length, he released Grizel and started down the hallway. “Leave me be! Leave all of us be!”

  Grizel watched him disappear around the corner and when she turned around, Elena was standin’ in Kester’s doorway with her arms folded and a frown on her face. “Is there no end to your cruelty? Have you no idea what you have just done?”

  “I have done nothin’ wrong.”

  “Aye, you have,” said Elena. “You are the poison Lindsey drank and now you give it to Murran.”

  Grizel huffed, walked to her door, went into her bedchamber, and slammed the door behind her.

  After a time, Elena went back into Kester’s room, sat down and took up her sewing again.

  “You cannae just sit there,” Kester said.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Tell Michael, afore Murran puts the blame on himself and drinks Grizel’s poison too.”

  Elena considered that. For days she avoided Michael, but Kester was right – he needed to know. She looked in all the usual places and then went outside. The rain had stopped, so she walked the wet paths until she found Michael helping Rory remove the stones from Kester’s cottage.

  Elena had a worried look on her face when Michael noticed her. “What is it?”

  “May we speak alone?”

  “Of course.” Michael followed her to the river, knelt down, dipped water with his cupped hands and washed the sweat off his face. When he stood back up, she looked just as worried.

  “‘Tis Murran. Grizel told him why Lindsey killed herself.”

  Michael used his shirt sleeve to wipe the water off his face. “Where is he?”

  “I know not.”

  She started to leave, so he asked what he had longed to ask for days, “Elena, what is amiss between us?”

  “Grizel.” She lowered her gaze and then looked away for a moment. “Michael, I understand and admire the oath you took to uphold the edict, but is the oath more important than the harm she does to your clan?”

  Elena did not look back after she walked away and Michael just let her go. Instead, he went to find Murran and found him in the first place he looked – Murran’s shop. When he looked through the open door, a small wooden box sat on his worktable and Murran was sitting on one of the short stools deep in thought.

  Finally, he looked up and noticed his laird. “Michael?”

  “Elena told me what Grizel said just now. I have come to ask you not to repeat it, for fear Rory hears it.”

  Murran nodded. “I agree. Michael, I cannae think what I did to encourage Lindsey.”

  “The fault is mine. Lindsey never said, but Kester and Elena guessed and said as much to me. I should have asked Rory to build Lindsey’s fires once I knew.”

  “Perhaps we are all to blame,” Murran said as he stood up. “She seemed always so happy and content, most of us admit to payin’ little attention to her.”

  “Perhaps we shall do better with the next Lindsey. In the meantime, Rory shall need help buildin’ Lindsey’s bridge. ‘Twill do you both good.”

  “I have Kester’s cart to finish, but I fear it shall be too heavy.”

  “I shall talk to her about it.”

  Michael left Murran’s shop and went back to help Rory with the stone, but what Elena said weighed heavy on his mind. He didn’t think it possible, but Grizel had somehow made Elena turn away from him.

  That night at supper, he ate little and said even less before he left the dining hall, and climbed the stairs to the top of the stone wall to think. Yet, the questions were too many and the answers too few. What was happening was far beyond his comprehension.

  IN THE OLD DAYS, THE Swintons were a very large and proud clan, more often than not at war with their neighbors, the Kennedys. Even after their numbers dropped during the English occupation, the plague, and the many battles fought to free Scotland, most clans did their best to stay on the good side of the Swintons. Not once in many generations had the Swintons gone up against their strong and fierce neighbors to the west – the MacGreagors. Then again, they had no cause to, at least not yet.

  Under the watchful eye of several Swinton guards, Osgar rode into the courtyard, dismounted, handed the reins of his horse to a boy, and cautiously went to the door of the heavily reinforced Swinton Keep. He waited for a guard to open the door for him and then timidly stepped inside the dark and forbidding Great Hall. It took a moment, but when his eyes finally adjusted to the scant light let in by small windows and a single lit lantern, he noticed a tall, muscular man standing in a doorway with his arms folded and a scowl on his face.

  “Who are you?” Laird Swinton asked.

  “I am Osgar. Surely you remember me.”

  “A Dalldon dare enter my Keep?”

  “I am not a Dalldon, I am of clan Allardice, and I have come to strike a bargain.”

  Laird Swinton scoffed, unfolded his arms, and walked closer to the light. He had curly light brown hair that he kept loosely tied back. “You claimed to be a Dalldon the last time you came. I should kill you outright.” He reached for a pitcher, poured dark liquid into a chalice, and quickly drank it down.

  “You care nothin’ for the reward Dalldon offers?”

  “They say he offers but a pittance of four thousand pounds for his daughter’s return? My daughter is worth far more than that.�
�

  “I agree, he is too greedy to pay a fair price, which is why he has not yet got her back.” In just a few days, Osgar had ridden enough miles to cover half the length of Scotland and back again. He was so tired he could hardly stand up and wished to sit, but dared not unless the offer was first made.

  “I take it you know where she is?”

  “I know nothin’,” Osgar lied.

  The expression on Laird Swinton’s face betrayed his doubt, but he dropped the subject for now. “I suppose I am Dalldon’s last hope and he wants me to find her?”

  “Not Laird Dalldon – his son.”

  “Tam? If that is true, why does Tam not come to me himself?”

  “He has been accused of helpin’ his sister escape and is in the Dalldon dungeon.”

  Laird Swinton laughed. “Serves Dalldon right. First he is deprived of a daughter and now he chooses to neglect a son. Tell me, has he any other children I might could deny him of?”

  “Not that I am aware of,” Osgar answered. He shifted his weight to his other foot, hoping to relieve his suffering. It helped, but only a little. There was a chair nearby, and he openly eyed it, but still no offer to sit came from his host.

  “You are well aware, are you not, that years ago Dalldon took the wife that should have been mine? Why do you imagine I would agree to help his son?”

  “Because Tam offers to pay any price you ask.”

  “Any price at all...simply for findin’ Seona and returnin’ her? Why?”

  “So she can be made to marry the French Marquis. The king is much disturbed by her refusal, and...”

  “Aye, I have heard that as well.” Laird Swinton thought about it for a time. “The king is blind and gives his favors wrongly. Several of his favorite lairds would easily turn on him at the first possible opportunity, and Dalldon would lead the charge.”