Valor (Sons of Scotland Book 2) Read online

  “Are ye saying we shouldna let ye go?” Domnall asked.

  “I would not if I were you, but then again, my grandfather will surely kill your kinsmen if you do not let me go. You must ask yourselves which is more important to you,” the prince said. “Holding me captive or your kinsmen’s lives?”

  “Ye dinna wonder which is more important to the king?” Domnall countered. “Would he rather hold them captive than see ye returned safely?”

  The prince cocked his head as if considering this angle for the first time. “Forsooth, you are damned either way. If you kill me, your kinsmen are dead. If you hold me, they are also dead. You cannot win this.”

  Cocky little bastard. Nevertheless, the prince had a point. Alexander had gone to negotiate with the king, but not from a true position of strength. The king had men and arms to enforce his will. They had only Malcolm.

  “We will await the king’s reply,” Domnall said, offering the prince nothing further of his thoughts. Domnall rose. “I leave ye to rest now, Highness.”

  “But I am not weary!” the prince whined.

  “But I am,” Domnall replied. “I had a long journey. We will speak again on the morrow.”

  *

  Upon leaving the prince’s chamber, Domnall found the solar empty. He descended to the great hall to find the women hovering around Gillecolum. He was seated at the high table with a large trencher of food and a pitcher of ale.

  “I trust they tend ye well?” Domnall asked.

  “I have ne’er felt more welcome,” Gillecolum replied with a grin.

  Domnall sat down beside him and poured a cup of ale. “Prince Malcolm was attacked. He said ’twas an ambush of Highlanders.”

  “Aye?” Gillecolum’s brows rose. “Led by whom?”

  “He doesna ken. He thought it was me. The king will surely think the same.”

  Gillecolum’s gaze narrowed. “That doesna bode well for ye.”

  “Aye,” Domnall sighed. “Unless Lord Somerled were to vouch for me, I have nae way to prove my innocence.”

  “But my faither willna want the king to ken of yer meeting,” Gillecolum said. “Besides, do ye truly think ’twill matter to David if ye are guilty or innocent? Someone attacked his men and took his heir. He willna care who is truly responsible for it. He will only wish to see someone punished as an example.”

  “And I am already an outlaw,” Domnall said. “And as one with a rival claim, he has every reason to kill me.”

  “Aye,” Gillecolum nodded. “Whether ye give up the lad or nae, he will send men to deal with ye.”

  “I willna sit here and wait for them to come to Moray with fire and sword,” Domnall replied. “I must think of a way to deal with him.”

  “Have ye men?” Gillecolum asked.

  “I can raise men, but I need time,” Domnall said.

  “Time is in short supply,” Gillecolum countered.

  “Aye, ’tis indeed.” Domnall drew a great breath and released it with a long sigh. “I have friends. Good fighting men who have vowed to rally their clans, but two are on pilgrimage and three others are fighting as mercenaries in France. They would come if I sent word, but that would take months.”

  Gillecolum slouched back in his chair. “I suspect there is another reason my faither sent me here with ye.”

  “Aye? Why would ye think so?” Domnall asked.

  “If he only wanted a report, he could have sent anyone, but he didna. He sent me. My faither has a pact with David of Scotland that prevents him from interfering.” Gillecolum smiled. “But I am nae my faither, and I am inclined to involve myself.

  “I appreciate the offer, my friend, but this is nae yer fight.”

  “’Tis if I choose to make it so,” Gillecolum replied. “I have nae army but I do have capable men and two good ships. They are at yer disposal.”

  Domnall was overwhelmed by the offer. “Ye would help me reclaim my kinsman? But why?”

  Gillecolum shrugged. “’Tis a hard thing to live in the great Somerled’s shadow. Mayhap I wish to make my own name.” His mouth stretched into a grin. “If we succeed in thwarting the King of Scotland, we willna soon be forgotten.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the days following Brother Alexander’s departure, Davina continued to fret about the princess’ fragile state of mind. Her alarm increased when the princess suddenly decided to take an interest in her future daughter-in-law.

  “Berthe,” the princess instructed her maid. “I desire to become better acquainted with Lady Sibylla. Pray tell her that I wish her to begin supping with me in my chambers, beginning this evening.”

  “Aye, Highness,” Berthe replied, darting an uncertain look to Davina.

  Berthe’s expression said she shared Davina’s fears. Would the princess truly make an attempt on Sibylla’s life? Did she dare act so boldly? Davina worried that she might.

  Although Davina had already taken great risks, she could not stand by and allow Domnall’s sister to be harmed. She must warn Sibylla!

  *

  “Mademoiselle Sibylla,” Davina presented herself at Sibylla’s chamber with a deep curtsy. Hoping to avoid scrutiny, she made a point to speak in French. “I have brought the Book of Hours ye requested of me.”

  Sibylla’s bows drew together as Davina offered the book. But she replied as if she understood the need for subterfuge. “Merci, Sister,” Sibylla replied, also in French.

  “I have marked the passages ye inquired about,” Davina said.

  “I will study them well,” Sibylla replied.

  “I was on my way to prayer,” Davina continued. “Perhaps ye would like to accompany me?”

  “I would, indeed, Sister,” Sibylla replied. She called to her maid. “If anyone inquires after me, tell them I have gone to the Queen’s Chapel.”

  “I was surprised that ye would come to my chamber,” Sibylla said, reverting to Gaelic as soon as they were alone. “I thought ye were wary of anyone seeing us together.”

  “I had nae choice,” Davina replied. “The princess doesna want ye to wed her son. Yer life might be in danger.”

  “Danger?” Sibylla’s eyes widened. “But just this morn, she invited me to dine with her.”

  “I dinna trust her,” Davina said. “She is nae herself anymore. Ye must offer up some excuse… and ye must leave this place.”

  Sibylla shook her head with a wistful look. “Even if there was a way to escape, I couldna leave my uncle here to rot in prison.”

  “I understand how ye feel, but there is naught ye can do for him,” Davina insisted. She had warned Sibylla, but the only way to truly protect her from the princess was to devise her escape from Dunfermline.

  “But how could it even be done?” Sibylla asked. “The king’s men are everywhere.”

  They had reached the princess’ garden located beside the Queen’s Chapel. Davina stared at the neat little rectangle of earth that she had tilled and fertilized for planting roses. She had planned on returning to Haddington in the early spring to dig up a few of the princess’ bushes because spring was the best time to avoid shocking the plants, but only an experienced gardener would know this. The cogs of Davina’s mind were quickly turning.

  “I got ye into the guardhouse jail where there are many men-at-arms without rousing suspicion,” Davina said. “Perhaps ye could leave by the same devise.”

  “What do ye mean?” Sibylla asked.

  “I have been preparing this plot to plant a small rose garden for the princess,” Davina said. “Perhaps, I could ask permission to return to Haddington to dig up some of her roses. I dinna believe she would deny the request, given how much she misses her garden. Ye could wear my nun’s robes and depart disguised as me.”

  “But what will happen when ’tis discovered ye helped me?” Sibylla asked. “Do ye fully understand what ye risk?”

  Davina was well aware of the penalty. To be caught would mean certain death. But the thought of death no longer terrified her as it once had. Wh
at little contentment she had known in her life was now in the distant past. Everyone she had ever loved, aside from Domnall, was dead, as were her hopes of ever being with him. Davina wanted nothing more than to leave this place and this life behind, whatever the cost.

  “Nae.” Sibylla shook her head, her expression adamant. “We need another plan. I willna go unless both ye and my uncle come with me.”

  “’Tis impossible,” Davina said. “MacAedh is chained hand and foot and guarded day and night.”

  “Ye are allowed to see him,” Sibylla said. “Is there aught ye could give him to break his chains?”

  “Nothing I could carry could cut through iron,” Davina said.

  He was well-guarded by two men, but the guards had become accustomed to her coming and going, and were growing complacent. The fact that they were wary of searching her body gave her an opportunity, but what could she possible give to MacAedh that would help his escape? Nothing could break the irons.

  “Nothing is impossible,” Sibylla replied. “But we canna act alone. We need help. When Alexander returns, we will find a way.”

  “Why do ye put so much faith in this monk?” Davina asked. “Is Brother Alexander a kinsman of yers?”

  “My brother would call him that,” Sibylla replied. “But I prefer to call him husband.”

  “Husband?” Davina was stunned. “He has forsaken his vows?”

  “Nae exactly,” Sibylla said. “In truth, he ne’er took the vows. He was raised in the monastery since he was a wee lad, but Alexander has many secrets that I canna divulge. We were secretly married the night before he left here.”

  “What of the betrothal between ye and Prince Malcolm?”

  “’Tis invalid,” Sibylla said. “But the king must nae ken of this.”

  “’Tis a verra dangerous game ye and Alexander play,” Davina said.

  “I promise we are well aware,” Sibylla said. “Alexander was given nae choice in entering the king’s service, but he has been able to gain valuable information—and he saved Prince Malcolm’s life.”

  “Yet he risks his own by acting as an intermediary,” Davina said. “Even now he is followed by Eachann’s men. They have instructions to retrieve the prince and to kill everyone else.”

  Sibylla bit her lip. “Does Alexander ken of this?”

  “Aye,” Davina said. “I sent word of the plot through Faither Gregor.”

  “Then they will at least be prepared. Thanks be to God for that much.”

  “Come, Sibylla,” Davina took her hand. “Let us go into the chapel and pray that God will also safeguard their lives.”

  *

  After two nights at Castle Kilmuir, Gillecolum was preparing to depart when Domnall’s youngest sister, Donata, came running breathlessly into the great hall. “Máthair! Domnall! There is a boat in the firth.”

  “Mayhap ’tis Alexander come back with the king’s reply?” Domnall’s mother remarked.

  “Was it just one boat?” Domnall asked his sister.

  Donata scrunched her face. “I only saw the one sail. I dinna think ’tis more than one boat.”

  “Let us hope ’tis Alexander,” Domnall replied darkly. “’Tis best everyone arm themselves, just in case. Ye women will remain here in the great hall with the door bolted. I’ll go and meet the boat.”

  “I will come with ye,” Gillecolum said. “There may be news that alters our plan.”

  They had strategized well into the wee hours of the morning, trying to come up with a workable plan to rescue Sibylla and MacAedh. But if this was Alexander, everything could change.

  Domnall and Gillecolum strode up to the ramparts for a better view of the approaching vessel. Soon, they could make out two black-robed figures. “It must be Alexander!” Domnall declared and rapidly descended the stairs to meet the boat at the seagate. “Ye are well timed, Brother Alexander!” Domnall called out as they moored the vessel.

  “Domnall! Praise be to God ye are returned!” Alexander exclaimed. “Ye remember Faither Gregor?”

  “Aye. ’Tis good to see ye, Faither,” Domnall replied. “This is Gillecolum, the true son of Lord Somerled,” Domnall said. “He has become a great friend to me and offers his support.”

  “I act independent of my faither,” Gillecolum clarified. “I have my own ships, and I am free to command them as I please.”

  “How many ships and men?” Alexander asked.

  “One galley, one birlinn, and a full crew on each.” Gillecolum rolled his eyes upward in thought. “Fully manned, I command about one hundred fifty men. ’Tis nae enough to make war,” he said, “but ’tis certainly enough to carry out a rescue.”

  “Do ye have men here now?” Alexander asked, his expression urgent.

  “Nae. I came alone,” Gillecolum replied.

  “Then I’m afraid ye canna help us,” Alexander said.

  His manner and question made Domnall instantly uneasy. “What is amiss, Alexander?”

  “We were followed,” Alexander answered.

  “By whom?” Domnall asked.

  “I dinna ken how many, but they were sent by Eachann of Mearns who has assumed authority since the king’s seizure. He collapsed upon receiving news of the attack on Prince Malcolm.”

  “Does he live?” Domnall asked.

  “He has recovered somewhat, but he will ne’er be whole again,” Alex answered. “Eachann now acts to gain the regency for himself. Last eve, Faither Gregor was made aware of a plot. Eachann is sending men to take the prince and kill everyone at Kilmuir.”

  “How far behind are they?” Gillecolum asked.

  “Mayhap an hour,” Alexander answered. “I caught sight of their sail several times in the night.”

  Domnall’s mind raced. They were few in number and poorly armed, but the castle was strong. “We have but two choices,” Domnall said. “We could escape now with the prince or remain and defend.”

  “If I left now, I could bring men to yer relief,” Gillecolum said. “But ’twill take a sennight to return. Do ye wish me to stay and fight or bring reinforcements?”

  “The castle is strong,” Domnall said. “But our men are too few to defend for long. But the men who come now dinna ken that they have lost the element of surprise, which means we now hold the advantage. I say we fight.”

  Gillecolum nodded. “I will remain to fight with ye.”

  “As will I,” offered the priest. “Have ye a sword for me?”

  Alexander regarded him with a surprised look. “Do ye ken how to wield one?”

  “I was a Highlander long before I was a priest,” the old man replied.

  “Kilmuir has a stockpile of hidden arms,” Alexander said.

  “How would ye ken this?” Domnall asked.

  Alexander answered with a soft scrape of steel as he reached upward over his shoulder and drew a long sword from a sheath hidden beneath his robe. “MacAedh showed me the trove when he gave me this.”

  “And there are others?” Domnall asked.

  “Aye, come quickly,” Alexander said. “We have little time to prepare.”

  “Faither Gregor,” Domnall said. “Go ye to tell the others they must remain inside the keep until this is finished.”

  Alexander led Domnall and Gillecolum to the family mausoleum. The entrance was aptly guarded by two imposing, stone-carved angels holding swords. Using his sword pommel, Alexander broke the lock to the tomb and beckoned the others into the dark, dank chamber that smelled of death and decay. “This one,” Alex said, pointing to a casket that Domnall had thought held the remains of a long dead ancestor.

  “There are weapons hidden here?” Domnall asked.

  “Aye,” Alexander replied.

  Heaving with all their combined force, they moved the great slab of stone to reveal a treasure trove of ancient weaponry—swords, axes, shields, spears, knives and even battle horns of a kind Domnall had never seen before. The three men began arming themselves with everything they could carry.

  Once more, Domnal
l felt the bitter bite of jealousy. Why is it that Alexander had knowledge of this but Domnall had been told nothing of it? “Why would MacAedh show ye this?”

  “Please dinna think I came to Kilmuir in deceit, but I am nae who ye think I am,” Alexander said. “There is nae time to explain right now, but I promise I will verra soon.” Alexander laid a hand on Domnall’s shoulder. “As my brother-in-law, I owe ye that much.”

  “Brother-in-law?” Domnall shook his head in confusion. “What are ye saying?”

  “Sibylla is my wife. We secretly wed three days ago in the Queen’s Chapel at Dunfermline. Faither Gregor performed the marriage rites.”

  Domnall’s initial reaction was fury. “Ye wed her and then ye left her there?”

  “I had nae choice!” Alexander replied. “Yer entire family is in danger, but Sibylla is safe for the nonce. The king thinks to betroth her to Malcolm. ’Tis why we wed.”

  “Does my uncle ken of this marriage?” Domnall asked.

  “Nae,” Alexander said. “I had nae chance to tell him, but he kent well my feelings for Sibylla.”

  Domnall’s mind reeled from Alexander’s revelations but there was no time for further conversation. It was supremely difficult for Domnall to give his trust to any man, let alone one who had deceived him. But now their lives all depended on that trust. He had little choice about putting his faith in Alexander, but he swore he would soon have answers from the mysterious monk.

  *

  Armed to the teeth, the four men climbed to the ramparts to watch for any sign of the ship.

  “This is the best place to observe their movement,” Domnall said. “We must post at least two men here. Alexander, have ye any skill with a bow?”

  “Nae,” Alexander shook his head. “I never learned because we dinna eat animal flesh at the monastery, only fish. But I see as well as a hawk. I can keep watch.”

  “And ye?” Domnall asked Gillecolum. “How well do ye hunt Normans?”

  “Having spent far more of my life on the sea than on land, I’m afraid I am a far better sailor than a huntsman,” Gillecolum replied. “But I am nae unskilled with sword and ax.”

  “Then I will wield the long bow,” Domnall said, thankful for all of his years of hunting for game while in the Borderlands. “If we are blessed with moonlight, I will pick them off before they e’er reach the castle. Faither Gregor, pray tell the women we need all the torches lit by nightfall. We must have light if we are to see them. The prince must stay where he is with the door locked. Say naught to him of this attack.”