Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 3

  “If you think that, you dinna understand the ways of a woman. Did I not tell you she would run?”

  “Aye, but...”

  Laird Dalldon waved his guards excuses away with his hand. “Has the Marquis arrived?”

  “Aye and he brings a French Priest. He awaits you in the Great Hall.”

  “I see. Did he bring guests?”

  “I counted twenty, all of them French.”

  Dalldon repeatedly blinked his disdain, as well as his frustration. “I suppose I can’t but tell him. He shall not be pleased.” He walked to a table, picked up his sword, and wrapped the belt around his waist. “Find her, and do it quickly or I shall be forced to pay the devil his due.”

  The laird watched his guard flee out the door, tied the strings of his belt, and with his dogs following, took his time descending the staircases. At the door to the Great Hall, he paused, took a deep breath, and entered the long, narrow room with a smile on his face. Bright cheerful tapestries hung on one wall while an array of more weapons than any one man needed, decorated the one opposite. At the far end, a multitude of candles illuminated an impressive, floor to ceiling, stained glass window and the polished stone floor.

  Although the laird had never met him, the man wearing green silk attire and standing next to the priest, perfectly fit the description of the man his daughter was to marry. The Marquis was a small man with a slightly tilted stance, as though his sword was too heavy. Just before he approached, the laird made a slight attempt at a bow. “Welcome.”

  With a proud look on his face, the Marquis returned the greeting. “Monsieur my ship awaits. Does your daughter come now?”

  Laird Dalldon held his smile. “There has been a slight delay.”

  “Why?” the alarmed Frenchman asked.

  “It seems she is no longer in the castle.”

  The marquis narrowed his eyes, “She loves another?”

  “Nay, ‘tis not that. She is frightened.”

  “As am I, monsieur.” Marquis Adnot Bellamy turned to his guests and explained what was happening in French. The women gasped and the men frowned.

  “Allow me a day or two, to...” the laird tried.

  The marquis violently shook his head. “A day or two will not do. I am commanded by King Charles V to return the instant I am married. I cannot stay.”

  “Not for just a day or two? I promise I shall find her and all will be well.”

  “Does she not know the importance of this marriage?” the Marquis asked in a louder and somewhat shrill voice.

  “Aye, she has been told.”

  “If we do not marry, the king shall not so gladly help the Scots.”

  The laird’s smile grew more sincere. “Aye, but he shall not so gladly help the English either.”

  The marquis slowly nodded, but he saw no humor in the remark. “True.” He brought the tips of the fingers on his right hand to his forehead, closed his eyes, and considered the circumstances. “I have come to collect a wife. With or without her, monsieur, I leave Scotland in the morning!”

  Still hiding his fury, Dalldon remained pleasant. “I understand. Perhaps you might be persuaded to join me in the wedding feast? I see no need to waste a good meal, do you?”

  “Very well.”

  “And of course, you and your guests shall stay the night?”

  As though he expected nothing less, the marquis muttered, “Of course, monsieur.”

  Laird Dalldon had little to say during the meal. Most of the conversation was in French, which he did not understand anyway. Even so, he continued to uphold the pleasantries the king of Scotland expected of him. Twice, his guard came to report the lack of progress, and twice he continued to smile as though it was only a matter of time until his daughter was found. Yet, he occasionally forgot himself and stared across the table at his son. Tam, he noticed, was pretending to understand what the French were saying, but Dalldon was not fooled. Neither of his children spoke French.

  At last, the guests were taken upstairs to rest, leaving the laird and his son alone. “Why?” he asked.

  “I know not of what you speak, Father.”

  “You know precisely of what I speak. Where have they taken her?”

  Tam looked his father straight in the eye and never once blinked. “I swear I had naught to do with it.”

  The laird slowly stood up. “You are not a good liar – you never have been.”

  He suspected what was coming and Tam was ready for it. He too stood, and then put his hand on the handle of his dagger. Yet, when two guards came in, he lost his nerve and let his hand fall to his side. “Father, I...”

  Showing the full measure of his rage, the laird barked, “Say nothin’ lest I strike you dead where you stand!”

  In a panic, Tam Dalldon turned and tried to run, but the deerhounds started to growl and more guards blocked the doors. His only escape lay up the stairs, so he darted that direction. Behind him, his father shoved Tam so hard he tripped and nearly fell up the steps. As soon as he recovered his balance, he ran the rest of the way up and turned down a hallway.

  Dalldon ran up right behind him, grabbed his son’s arm, and forced him to turn around. “Do you not know what this means? We and we alone were to make an alliance with the French for the sake of Scotland. Now what have I left to me – nothing but tedious explanations and endless apologies?”

  “Father, I...”

  “Guards,” the laird said through gritted teeth. “Take my son to the dungeon and see that this one dinna escape!”

  “The dungeon?” Tam gasped as two guards took his arms from behind. “Father I swear an oath, I dinna...”

  “Save your worthless oaths, for I shall never believe you.” He looked at the guards, remembered his guests and whispered, “Get on with it.”

  Tam, on the other hand, cared nothing for his father’s guests and shouted, “You cannae do this! I am your son!” His voice began to fade as the guards hauled him back to the stairs and then down them.

  Laird Dalldon could still hear his son shouting when he went to his bedchamber and as soon as he could hear Tam no more, he sank into a chair. Even his attentive deerhounds could not console him, as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “I shall see her in her grave for this!”

  OSGAR WAS A MEMBER of no particular Scottish clan, although when pressed he claimed to be an Allardice. Instead, he traveled from place to place and offered his highly valued skills at turning a bad situation into a good one – to those willing to pay a handsome price. An ordinary looking man of average height and weight, Osgar preferred the company of women the same as any man, but the women he enjoyed the most were not the marrying kind. Therefore, he neither wanted nor needed a wife. In his mid-thirties, he constantly sought after bigger and bigger challenges to satisfy his list of accomplishments, not to mention his greed. Stealing a daughter right out from under Laird Dalldon’s nose and keeping her hidden was a particularly pleasurable challenge. After all, the laird was the only man who refused to pay for services rendered. Normally when a man did not pay in gold or silver, he paid with his life, but leaving Dalldon alive had its advantages, especially now.

  Even before the sky began to brighten, Dalldon’s men went from door to door in the small village across the loch and demanded to know where Seona was. All but one denied knowing anything, but the one, a poverty stricken widow agreed to talk for a price. The price was given her, and after she slowly counted the metal coins, she pointed east. “‘Twas dark, but ‘twas two lads with her,” the woman claimed.

  “Two lads? Who?” the guard demanded to know.

  The woman simply shrugged. “Never got so much as a peek at their faces.” The guards must have believed her, for in an instant they mounted their horses and sped down the road toward Scotland’s interior.

  As soon as they were gone, the laird’s daughter stepped out of the woman’s cottage. Seona wore the simple, colorless clothing of a commoner, although she kept her same linen underclothing and stuffed her
square-necked purple gown with the angel sleeves in her bag.

  “They shall hang me if they find out,” the woman whispered. She took the coins Seona Dalldon gave her, slipped back into her home, and closed the door.

  As if on cue, Osgar brought two horses from behind the cottage, waited until they were both mounted, and then took the well-traveled road that led in the opposite direction. Certain to run into more of her father’s guards, each time Osgar darted off the road, she quickly followed and remained hidden until the danger passed.

  Growing up in a castle afforded Seona few friends and therefore, she considered her brother’s acquaintances as her acquaintances too. Several years older than either she or Tam, Osgar came to the castle often, taught them how to play games such as draughts and chess, and took them riding. There were few men Seona truly trusted and Osgar was one of them. Still, when the plan was first presented to her, the real reason for his help was a mystery – one she had no time to discover just now.

  By midday, they reached the harbor where three large ships were docked. The largest of the three had French markings on its square and lateen sails, with a uniformed French captain standing near the aft castle to greet arriving passengers.

  No sooner had Seona dismounted, than Osgar sharply pulled her behind a shop. “Tis the Marquis.”

  “What?” she gasped. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner. “Which one?”

  “The one in front.”

  She watched as the short and somewhat awkward man slowly walked up the gateway to the deck of the ship. His hair was dark and he wore a round red hat adorned with a large green feather. Behind him, his giddy and even more ridiculously dressed French guests followed. “He is drunk and more unsightly than even I could have imagined.”

  “Aye, is that not what I told you?” said Osgar.

  “Indeed you did.” She pulled back and once more hid behind the shop. “I would rather die than bed that one. What of the other ships?”

  “I know not the markings. Wait here and I shall see about them.”

  It seemed to take forever for the Marquis’ ship to sail, but once it was out of the harbor and she was certain her father’s men were not watching, Seona walked around the building and entered the clothier where she happened upon a hooded, fur-lined red cloak. Delighted, she paid handsomely for it, put it on, and stepped back outside. She drew in a breath of fresh ocean air and then looked for Osgar among the many merchants and customers between her and the giant sailing ships. Dressed in red instead of black, her escort did not recognize her until she waved to get his attention.

  “Well?” she asked as soon as Osgar reached her.

  He glanced around, and then conspiratorially pulled her aside. “They have been warned.”

  “Warned of what?”

  “Of givin’ passage to a lass with red hair and green eyes.”

  “Both ships?”

  “Aye, your father sent his men to forbid them early this mornin’. He means to prevent your leavin’ by any means possible.”

  Upset, she started to wring her hands. “I must go somewhere or I shall be found out. But where? I am too well known by both the Scots and the English, and father...”

  “‘Tis worse – he offers a reward.”

  “A reward?” she gasped. Seona closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Of course he does. A daughter is for marryin’ off and nothin’ more. Pray tell me how much he thinks findin’ me is worth?”

  “A thousand pounds.”

  “Is that all? Why am I not surprised?” Seona bit her lower lip and took a moment to think. “Surely there are ships on other Scottish shores.”

  “Aye, there are, but ‘tis a few days ride.”

  “We have no choice. I must leave Scotland and I dinna care to hide in England.”

  “As you wish, milady.”

  “You best stop callin’ me that.”

  “What should I call you?”

  “I must have a common name. Perhaps Agatha, or...”

  “Grizel?”

  “Grizel will do, but Grizel of which clan?” she asked.

  He mockingly bowed, “I happily offer my clan for the using.”

  “Grizel Allardice?” she thought it over for a moment. “Why not?” She started back to the horses and then paused to look at him. “Osgar, why do you help me?”

  “I gave my pledge.”

  “To who?”

  “Your brother.”

  “Tam? I see. Many times he has talked of killing father and taking his place. Perhaps now he shall truly do it, and then I can go home.” She paused again. “And if ‘tis the plan, I need not leave Scotland at all. I need only hide until then.”

  “‘Tis one way to look at it.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “As you said, a lass is for marryin’ and many are the lads who would have a lass like you.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “A lad of my own choosin’...one of wealth and significance? What a splendid thought.” She walked back to her tied horse, and then turned around once more. “Have you no place to hide me?”

  Osgar helped her mount her horse and then went to his own. “Not yet.”

  FOR DAYS, OSGAR AND Grizel wandered across glens, up hills and down again, always sensible of being spotted and arrested. From village to village they went, seeking a place where she would be safe, but rumors of a reward for her capture always seemed to precede them. A cry throughout the land claimed the distraught laird was openly grieved over the loss of his child. He cared, they said, only to know if she lived or died. Before long, the reward increased from one to two thousand pounds.

  On good nights, they slept outside, and when the weather threatened rain, they accepted the kindness of strangers, eating a meal here and there and never staying in the same place for very long. Rare were the times they chanced eating in an inn. Yet Grizel was exhausted and Osgar was concerned. He dared not risk losing her to an illness or heart failure, so he sat her down in the darkened corner of a small village inn, and ordered a good meal for them both. After that, he went to hear the news and have a spot of ale with the men in the other room. When he came back, he was pleased to see some color in her complexion.

  “Have you any news,” she asked.

  He anxiously glanced around to make certain no one could hear, and then whispered, “Still two thousand pounds.”

  Keeping her voice down as well, Grizel scoffed. “He can afford well beyond that.” He means to kill me and pay as little as possible for the privilege. I cannae think why my brother has not killed him by now?”

  “I have even better news,” said Osgar.

  “What?”

  “It is said Clan MacGreagor offers sanctuary to any lass who fears for her life.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

  “‘Tis some sort of odd edict they live by. No lad is permitted to hurt a woman or a child, nor are lads allowed to force a lass.”

  “Even after marriage?”

  Osgar nodded. “Even then.” He leaned a little closer. “The lads were laughin’ about it.”

  The expression on her face betrayed her doubt. “Never have I heard of such a thing and I surely would have if ‘twas true.”

  “Better still, for if we have not heard of it, neither has your father. If ‘tis true, what better place for you to hide?”

  “And you?”

  “Nay, once you are taken in, I shall go back and see what has become of Tam.”

  She lowered her eyes and waited until a couple seated themselves two tables away. “Promise you shall send word? I long to know what is happenin’.”

  “You agree, then?”

  “I am in as much danger as any lass, and more besides. Aye, I agree.”

  TAM DALLDON WORE THE same linen shirt, formfitting dublet, and hose he had on when he was arrested. Without so much as a bed to lie on, he sat on the cold floor of his dungeon cell and prayed for a miracle, for that is what it would take to get his father to release him. His jailer somet
imes brought him scraps from his father’s table, but it usually wasn’t enough to fill his empty stomach. Save for feasts designed to impress guests, Laird Dalldon was stingy when it came to feeding his guards and common housemaids. Therefore, they could spare nothing even to keep their laird’s son alive and if they had extra, they would not share it with him, for they trusted Tam even less than his father.

  “I offer twenty pounds for a good meal,” Tam told his jailer as he slid the empty bowl through the empty space under the iron bars in the door.

  Even in the scant light of the lantern the jailer held, Tam looked the exact image of his father with the same bright red hair and treacherous green eyes. “And how do you intend to pay me from down here?” Barra asked.

  “I shall pay you as soon as I am free.”

  “And when shall that be?” Barra bent down, picked up the empty bowl, and started up the steps.

  “Thirty pounds,” Tam yelled after him.

  The jailer stopped but did not turn around. “Where has your sister gone?”

  Tam narrowed his eyes. “How much has my father offered for her capture?”

  “More than you offer.”

  “A good deal more, I suspect.”

  Barra slowly walked back down the stairs. “We could strike a bargain.”

  This time, Tam smiled. “Do you think my father would let you live once you told him where she is? I thought you wiser than that. He would accuse you of helpin’ her and have you struck down. Nay, you would get no money and I would never see my freedom.”

  “Yet, you know where she has gone?”

  “I do not, nor did I have anythin’ to do with her escape. What price do you require to tell my father that?”

  “Like father, like son,” Barra scoffed. “He offers a reward to find her and you offer one to see that he doesn’t. Why? She is just a lass – no better than any other.”

  “‘Tis precisely where you are mistaken. She is not just a lass, she is daughter to a laird, and a bonnie daughter at that. Married off properly, she is worth far more than a useless alliance with the French.”