Rebel Warrior (Medieval Warriors #3) Read online

  Beneath the trees, sunlight filtered through the branches, falling onto the small party sitting with the queen. Robins, flitting about in the trees and foraging on the ground, tittered and chirped, making their presence known. Catrìona leaned back on one arm admiring the beautiful afternoon, a breeze wafting through the air.

  Several members of the guard had joined them as well as the queen’s maidservant, an older Saxon woman whose brown plaits were laced with gray. She was very attentive to Margaret, leaving Audra and Catrìona free to converse with the men.

  Colbán eased himself down beside her. “I would sit with you, my lady, if you would allow it.”

  “Aye, your company is welcome.” As long as Steinar was in a mood, she might as well enjoy Colbán’s company.

  He offered her more ale.

  “I will fall off my horse do I drink any more of that heady ale, good sir,” she said, declining. “But I thank you for the offer.”

  He entertained her with stories of his early days with the king. She was not disinterested, but what held her attention even more was the way Audra, sitting a few feet away, stared adoringly at the man. ’Twas the same way Fia stared at the bard. Did Audra hold a tendre for the brash captain? As she listened to the warrior with the red beard and warm brown eyes, who regaled her with tales of his early battles, she pictured a bear, dangerous and cunning, but potentially soft with the right woman. Could Audra be that woman?

  Out of the corner of her eye, Catrìona glimpsed Steinar snatching glances at her while conversing with Audra. The twinge of jealousy she had felt earlier returned for he appeared to be enjoying Audra’s company. She chided herself for it. Audra was kind to everyone, not like Isla of Blackwell. Besides, Catrìona might wish it otherwise, but she had no claim on Steinar.

  Still, she watched him, thinking how unlike the other warriors he was. His manners were elegant, he was lettered and he treated her as an equal. She had responded willingly to his kisses, but it was more than attraction she felt for him. She respected him above other men. Few warriors would grant her the freedom to speak her mind as he did. Fewer still cared to hear what she had to say.

  If Colbán was a great bear, Steinar of Talisand was a sleek golden panther, both creatures of mythical proportion and neither easily tamed.

  * * *

  Margaret watched her two ladies as they sat eating beneath the trees, drawing the approving glances of the king’s guard sitting around them. Each woman was lovely and each had qualities a husband would treasure.

  But they are so different.

  Catrìona was a spirited beauty, willful, intelligent and courageous, who harbored deep hurts from the loss of her family and betrayal by the man she had thought to wed. Like a fast-moving river, obstacles were nothing to her. She went over them, like water over rocks. Catrìona needed a strong man with a tender heart to love and protect her, but who would not stifle her spirit. One who, after Domnall, would be ever faithful.

  In contrast, Audra was a sweet woman, amenable to all, a placid loch that ignored obstacles, consigning the rocks to her deep waters. She would expect less and tolerate more than the fiery Catrìona. But she needed a man who would hold her in high regard.

  One would challenge a man; one would bend to a man’s demands with never a contrary word.

  Would Audra make a better companion for the English thegn’s son who had been exiled to a country not his own? A man who harbored his own ghosts of the past? Though Catrìona and Steinar had worked well together on the plans to build the inn, only this morning Margaret had observed the two exchanging words that made her think they did not suit. And now Steinar sat with Audra and Catrìona with Colbán.

  The king’s captain was strong enough to handle a woman like Catrìona. Both she and Colbán were Gaels, children of Malcolm’s beloved Alba. And she had not forgotten that Audra’s mother and younger brothers had been killed on the order of Mac Bethad of Moray, the land of Colbán’s people. Mayhap she had been wrong in thinking the king’s captain might be better served by the gentle Audra.

  Margaret vowed to carefully observe them to determine if this new thought was correct. She cared about each of the ladies placed in her charge and she knew from her own experience that the crown of happiness in a woman’s life, absent taking the veil, arose from a happy marriage.

  CHAPTER 12

  Steinar’s first glimpse of the king’s manor at Ballingry reminded him of his home at Talisand. A two-story light-colored stone building with wooden roof and shuttered windows, it would serve well the king’s needs when traveling to St. Andrews if he did not lodge with Fife’s mormaer.

  Reining in his horse in front of the manor, Steinar dismounted and helped Catrìona to the ground, trying to ignore his body’s reaction to having his hands around her waist.

  “You seem pleased to be off the horse,” he said, returning her brilliant smile.

  “I am just happy to reach the first stop on our journey.”

  He glanced behind him to see Colbán and the other guards assisting the queen and Audra from the cart just as a plump gray-haired man came striding from the manor to meet them. Attired in a brown tunic, he could have been the older brother of Nechtan, the king’s steward in Dunfermline.

  “My Lady,” the man said in gracious manner, bowing before the queen, “welcome to Ballingry. The king sent a rider ahead with news of your coming. Your house stands ready to receive you.”

  “Thank you, Gormal,” said Margaret. “I should have known Malcolm would do that. He worries for my travels, especially now that the child’s birth is but a few months away.”

  Margaret introduced Catrìona and Audra to the steward.

  Steinar and Colbán introduced themselves, then followed the queen and her ladies while the rest of the guards went with the servants who were leading the horses to the stables.

  As they reached the door, the queen said to the steward, “Your brother sends you his regards.”

  The steward dipped his head. “And in doing so, Nechtan reminds me I owe him and my nephews a visit.”

  “His sons grow ever taller,” Margaret replied. “Soon, the king will have them joining the ranks of his men.”

  Steinar entered the manor behind the ladies. Inside, it was laid out somewhat like the king’s tower in Dunfermline except it was not in the shape of a square and much smaller in size. Immediately before him were stairs leading to the floor above. The first story consisted of a large room with a long trestle table and benches. An open door at the far end led, he assumed, to the kitchen. The whitewashed walls were decorated with shields and armor, more a man’s domain than a woman’s.

  The steward asked a servant to show the queen and her maidservant to the queen’s chamber. “There are refreshments waiting for you, My Lady.”

  The queen thanked him and headed up the stairs with her maidservant.

  The steward turned to Audra and Catrìona, informing them they would share a chamber on the same floor.

  “There is room above for some of the guardsmen,” he said to Colbán, “but the others will have to bed down in the stables.”

  Colbán shot a glance at Steinar. “You can share a chamber with me, Scribe.”

  Steinar was glad he had not been consigned to the stables, for he wanted to be close to Catrìona.

  Not long after, they were all settled in and gathered around the long table for the evening meal. Steinar inhaled the aroma from the subtle spices in which the food had been cooked. Platters of fish were served with vegetables, warm bread and butter, and bowls piled high with red berries.

  Sitting halfway down the table, the queen took a bite of her fish. “ ’Tis very well cooked and most delicious.”

  The steward beamed. “You are eating trout from Loch Leven, My Lady. The Keledei, or Culdees as you may know them, who live on the island in the middle of the lake brought us a fresh catch this morn. They are most grateful you and the king are content to allow them to retain the land.”

  The queen seemed to p
onder Gormal’s words. “My husband’s family has strong ties to the Culdees. Crínán of Dunkeld, the Culdee abbot, was my husband’s grandfather.”

  “Yea,” said the steward, “and a worthy man.”

  “We worship the same God,” Margaret said to Catrìona, “but not always in the same way.” Then with a smile, she added, “I have enjoyed my debates with them concerning the observance of Easter.”

  Steinar remembered the one meeting he had attended where the queen had, with Malcolm translating, forcefully argued the Culdees should make changes in the way they observed Easter and Lent. He had hoped there might be another such gathering for Catrìona to attend, but none had taken place since she had come to Dunfermline. Personally, he preferred the ways of the Culdees, who saw nothing wrong with their taking a wife. Many of them were married.

  Catrìona said nothing about the queen’s remark but, instead, commented on the food. “ ’Tis even better fish than that served in Dunfermline.”

  Others eating the trout nodded their agreement. Steinar had dined many a night on salmon from the River Lune at Talisand. The rosy flesh of that fish was very different from this trout with its delicate flavor. In his mind, he pictured the green valleys around Talisand, but lest the sadness for loss of his home overtake him, he recalled all he had gained since coming to Scotland, letting go of all he had lost. Had he remained in England, he would never have met Catrìona.

  For a long while, the guests chatted amiably with the steward and neither Colbán nor Audra said anything. But Steinar had caught Audra stealing glances at the king’s captain, as if she were summoning the courage to address him.

  Finally, Audra faced Colbán and said, “I have yet to thank you for your defense of my father in Alnwick, my lord. You risked your life for his. I am ever in your debt.”

  Colbán, who had kept his eyes turned on his trencher, looked up. “ ’Twas my duty, my lady, and I was most happy to do it. Your father is a worthy leader of men. If I could have prevented the wound he received, I would have.”

  Audra’s gentle eyes lingered long on the captain, who seemed unaware of her regard, as he fell again to eating. Those two, Steinar thought, were as much a contrast as Malcolm and his queen.

  Taking a drink of his wine, Steinar idly regarded the others sitting around the table. When he came to the queen, he paused. Margaret had grown tired from their journey; every now and then her eyelids drooped. He was unsurprised when she declined a honeyed cake, took a last sip of her wine and rose to retire.

  Steinar and Colbán, along with the steward and the men of the guard, stood and bowed to the queen.

  Catrìona and Audra quickly followed their mistress and the three women ascended the stairs. The guards who had the first watch of the night dispersed to their posts and the rest retired to their pallets.

  After a brief discussion regarding the next day’s travel, Steinar and Colbán thanked the steward, bid him good night and repaired to their chamber.

  ’Twas not unlike the chamber Steinar shared with Rhodri in the king’s tower, small but adequate. As he and the king’s captain undressed for bed, Steinar commented on trivial events from their day’s journey. He received only grunts in reply. Colbán was a man of few words and Steinar missed Rhodri’s glib speech. Very quickly, the candle was snuffed.

  Sleep came easily to Steinar that night, for the manor was quiet. Even the muted sounds of the night, to which his ears were finely attuned, finally died to silence.

  Mayhap it was because he was so aware of her that Steinar’s ears pricked the instant he heard the muted scream. Catrìona.

  Leaping from his bed, not even taking time to don his tunic over his hosen in which he had slept, he ran bare-chested to her chamber door, listening outside the wooden panel. When another scream sounded, he threw open the door and raced to her side.

  Still in the throes of the night terror, she tossed beneath the cover. Easing himself down on the edge of the bed, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her head to his chest. “ ’Tis all right, little one. You are safe.”

  In the bed next to Catrìona’s, Audra, roused from sleep by his words, sat up and lit a candle. “What has happened?”

  “She has dreams of the attack on her home,” he said while rocking Catrìona, whose moan told him she was slowing coming awake.

  “I remember some of the ladies speak of it,” said Audra. “Poor lass. Can I help?”

  “Nay, it will pass, I think.”

  He knew the minute Catrìona was awake because her arms tightened around his waist. He pressed his palm to the side of her head. “ ’Tis me, little one.”

  Still breathing hard, she said, “It was… oh, my God. I saw him, Steinar. The one who killed my father. I saw him!” She trembled in his arms.

  Smoothing the damp tendrils of hair from her face, he said, “Do not think of it. The dream is over and he cannot harm you.”

  “I will get her some water,” said Audra, rising from her bed to don a robe over her undertunic.

  When the wooden cup appeared before him, he held it to Catrìona’s lips.

  She took it and drank. “Thank you, Audra,” she said.

  As she finished, he set the cup aside and was just laying Catrìona down on her pillow when Colbán appeared at the open door. In the candle’s faint light, Steinar could see the scowl on the captain’s face. Servants with candles and some of the king’s guard, their weapons drawn, crowded behind him.

  “What goes here?” Colbán demanded in a harsh tone. “Why are you in the ladies’ chamber, Scribe?”

  Steinar let out a sigh.

  Audra went to the angry captain. Placing her palm on Colbán’s chest, she spoke softly. “ ’Tis all right, my lord. Catrìona had a bad dream and Steinar came when he heard her scream. She has suffered such dreams before.”

  The captain appeared to calm at her words and sent the servants and other guards away. “Why does she have such dreams?” he asked shortly.

  Steinar squeezed Catrìona’s hand and rose from the bed, walking to where Colbán stood next to Audra. “Let us return to our chamber and allow the ladies to sleep. I can answer your questions on the way.”

  With a rueful glance in Catrìona’s direction, Colbán bowed. “I bid you ladies a good night.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Catrìona and Audra followed Margaret to a nearby copse of trees where they knelt in prayer, watched over by the king’s guard. When they had finished, Margaret took some time to read her Gospels before they returned to the manor to break their fast.

  Catrìona’s prayers had been disturbed by horrible images from her dream, but once she was seated at the table and looked across at Steinar’s smiling face, the images faded from her mind. He had come at her scream in the night to comfort her. She could still feel the warm skin of his bare chest against her cheek and hear his beating heart. The memory caused her own heart to race and she forced her gaze to her gruel. What must he have thought?

  After a few bites of the gruel, which sadly lacked raisins, she shifted her gaze to the window where sun streamed in through the open shutters, drawing her attention to the trees outside and the sound of chirping birds. “To where do we ride today?”

  Next to her, the queen said, “Today we will see a place Duff believes might serve for the inn. Dalgynch is not far and ’twould be a good halfway point for the pilgrims coming from Dunfermline. The Culdees have a small church there. Duff thought they might be willing to have the pilgrims lodged nearby.”

  Soon after, they were ready to depart. Catrìona again rode her horse. As before, the queen, her maidservant and Audra rode in the cart. Colbán had tried to dissuade Catrìona from riding, telling her again it was more proper for a lady to ride with the queen, but sensing he did not want to argue with her in front of Margaret, Catrìona prevailed and remained on her horse.

  To her mind, the most important person was the queen, who had said nothing of her lady’s decision to ride, only giving Catrìona a knowing smile as
the captain reluctantly helped her to mount.

  She caught Steinar hiding a smile. He shook his head while stroking the neck of his great black horse. “Best to let the lady do as she wishes,” he said to Colbán. Then, tossing Catrìona a look of feigned disdain, he added, “She usually does.”

  The queen looked up, a concerned expression on her face, but Catrìona just laughed. Steinar knew her well. He would never have insisted she sit in the cart with the queen.

  Catrìona enjoyed the pleasant morning that took them through green meadows dotted with flowers. Steinar seemed to be in a better mood today as he shared tales of his home and his sister. It seemed Catrìona and Serena had much in common, which the scribe did not seem to mind. He laughed much as he recounted his youth. Catrìona could not help but admire a man who had lost his home and yet could smile.

  * * *

  Even traveling at a leisurely pace, as they did, it was only midday when they emerged from the woods and Steinar glimpsed what he assumed was the small village of Dalgynch in the distance.

  A short while later, he called a halt to the column and pulled rein in front of a stone chapel. Next to it was a large cottage where, he supposed, the few monks dwelled. In front of the cottage, a too-thin chicken scratched in the dirt. On the other side of the cottage, a reed fence surrounded a garden as large as the chapel. The plants, grown tall with the summer rains, appeared to be thriving. A few gray-robed monks, bent to harvesting turnips, looked up at their arrival. Beyond the garden, a few cows meandered about in a patch of grass.

  Before they could dismount, the door of the chapel flew open and a monk, half-tonsured in the Culdee tradition and wearing a gray woolen cowl and sandals, hurried toward them. Behind Steinar and Catrìona, the king’s captain helped the queen and the women down from the cart. The monk must have recognized the queen, for he bowed low before her and said, “My Lady, I am Oran. Welcome to our humble abode.”