Rebel Warrior (Medieval Warriors #3) Read online

  Steinar assisted Catrìona to the ground and she walked the short distance to where Margaret was explaining to the monk their purpose in coming. The monk, a man of middle years with a mild sort of face, appeared delighted with the queen’s idea.

  “Many pilgrims pass this way and, while we can accommodate them in the chapel, we cannot provide them lodging. An inn would certainly be desirable.”

  With that, Oran, who was nearly as thin as his chickens, escorted Margaret and the three other women into the cottage.

  Steinar followed behind them and stood inside the door, waiting to see if Margaret had need of him.

  The monk offered the queen a seat, a cup of ale and some bread and cheese. Fanning herself as if glad to be out of the sun, Margaret gratefully accepted the modest provisions.

  Catrìona and Audra took seats on either side of their mistress. The maidservant stood to one side.

  Steinar approached the queen. “With your permission, My Lady, I will help Colbán to see the tents raised. If you are agreed, I can show your maidservant where yours will be.”

  “Of course,” said the queen and waved him off. Her maidservant followed him out the door.

  Once the horses had been watered and the men and servants occupied with setting up tents, Steinar pointed out to the maidservant where the queen’s tent would stand. Then he and Colbán went looking for the queen and her ladies.

  “I expect we will find the ladies in the chapel,” said Colbán.

  “Possibly,” said Steinar, but thinking how eager Catrìona and the queen were to see their project made a reality, he said, “or they might already be looking at sites for the inn.” His conjecture proved correct as they soon discovered.

  The women, accompanied by the monk, were studying a plot of open land lying a short distance from the chapel. On one side, a tree-lined burn, about ten feet across, burbled over rocks as it flowed along.

  The queen was deep in conversation with the monk, Audra translating the Gaelic. The Culdee was pointing out various features of the land when Catrìona, seeing Steinar and Colbán approach, came toward them, leaving Audra with the queen.

  Catrìona’s eyes glistened with excitement. “ ’Tis the perfect place for the inn, do you not think?”

  Steinar nodded, but he was more interested in her than the ground they were inspecting. Her auburn plaits shone in the sun like burnished copper. “ ’Tis most entrancing.”

  Either she had not understood he was speaking of her, or she chose to ignore it, because she answered her own question. “It will serve the pilgrims well. They will have the chapel in which to pray before going on with their journey, lodging for the night, and vegetables from a larger garden.”

  “Aye,” said Steinar, “all that is possible.”

  Colbán cast an approving glance at Catrìona. “If the inn is well placed, it can be easily defended.”

  Steinar observed the predatory look in the eyes of the king’s captain, as they narrowed on the woman they both desired. Any man would have noticed the way Catrìona came alive as she described the inn she imagined, her beauty only enhanced by her excitement for the new venture.

  “The pilgrims will find a welcome resting spot and the Saxons in Dunfermline with little to do will have a new mission,” Catrìona said, glancing back at Margaret, who still conversed with the Culdee. “I think the queen is pleased.”

  Margaret looked up and beckoned them to her. As they neared, she said, “Did you know there is an ancient stone cross here?” They shook their heads and the queen’s blue gaze returned to the monk. “Can you show us?” Audra translated.

  “Certainly, My Lady,” he said, again with Audra’s assistance. “ ’Tis not far. It marks the end of the chapel property.” Offering his arm, the monk and Margaret strode off, the rest of them following.

  The stone cross was immense, taller than any man, and two feet across at the base. It was simple in design with no elaborate carvings, as some Celtic crosses had that Steinar had seen.

  Margaret stared at the stone cross for some time before saying, “This must have long been a place of worship to have such an ancient cross. That and your chapel make this the right spot for the pilgrims’ inn.” Smiling at the monk, she said, “Oh, I am glad we have found it so quickly. God Himself must be directing our steps.”

  Audra made clear the queen’s words for the monk. Next to Audra, Colbán studied the cross, rubbing his hand over his short red beard. “Might be Pictish,” he said. “ ’Tis old.”

  “Do you think so, my lord?” Audra asked solicitously.

  The king’s captain nodded, turning his head to Audra. “Aye, my lady.”

  Steinar watched the play of emotions that crossed Catrìona’s face as her gaze lingered on Audra and the king’s captain. Was she jealous of Colbán’s attention to her fellow lady? If Catrìona favored Colbán, would Audra’s attention to the captain be of concern? Mayhap it would after what Domnall had done. Then, too, Steinar recalled the way Duff’s daughter had soothed the captain’s anger the night before and wondered whether the gentle Audra harbored feelings for him. And what of Catrìona? Once he and the king’s captain were raised to be mormaers, equal in rank, which man would she prefer as husband? The king favored his captain, but did she? He supposed it mattered little what a woman might wish. The king would decide. But it mattered to Steinar.

  The queen stared admiringly at the massive cross. Beside her, the monk said, “There is a set of stones that stand in a circle nearby. You might want to see those, too. ’Tis not known precisely what purpose they served though some say the ancients supposed them to be a dancing ring for the fairies.” Shaking his head, he added, “We try and dissuade the people from such beliefs.”

  With Audra’s assistance, the queen was made to understand and replied, “Tomorrow, mayhap.” Placing her hand on her rounded belly, she said, “For now, I think I shall find my tent and rest for a while.”

  Audra said a few words to the monk in Gaelic to which he replied, “Of course, My Lady.”

  Margaret thanked the Culdee and accepted his invitation to dine with him and the other monks that evening. Then she took Catrìona’s arm and, together with Audra on her other side, walked toward where the cream-colored tents could be seen beneath the shelter of the trees a short distance away.

  Steinar followed. At his side, Colbán said, “It seems we have accomplished our purpose here. Mayhap as soon as tomorrow we can leave for St. Andrews.”

  “Aye,” said Steinar, “if the queen is feeling well enough. She appeared tired to me. The babe might be robbing her of strength.”

  Colbán nodded.

  Steinar thought of what must be done. “If our party is to eat this eve, we’d best hunt or the monks will be serving us one of those meager chickens.”

  Colbán slapped him on the back. “Aye, a hunt is just what I need.”

  * * *

  As the afternoon waned, Catrìona left Audra, who was napping, to check on the queen. Assured by the maidservant that Margaret was resting and did not have need of her ladies, Catrìona headed deeper into the forest to see to her private needs.

  Sunlight pierced the dark green canopy of trees, dappling the forest floor, but less so as the stands of trees grew dense before her. ’Twas not unlike the forest in Dunfermline, filled with chattering birds, but there was something more untamed about it.

  Having seen to her needs, she carefully stepped around an outcropping of twisted roots. An animal’s low growl brought the forest to a sudden silence. She froze, her heart racing, then slowly raised her head to the source of the sound. Above her, a giant cat, gray with black stripes, bared its teeth and hissed sharply while sinking its claws into the thick branch on which it was perched. Its pale green eyes narrowed on her as it spit furiously, poised as if to attack.

  Catrìona screamed and reared back just as the wild cat stamped forward, hissing and spitting. She reached for her knife sheathed at her hip.

  Strong arms surrounded her, pulling he
r away from the cat. “I will protect you, my lady.” Even without turning, she recognized the voice of the king’s captain. Turning her in his arms, he held her to his hard chest. “Do not fear the beast. My sword is yours to command.”

  She gazed into his brown eyes, seeing concern. “I am grateful, sir.” Behind her, the huge cat hissed and growled. She pressed closer to the king’s captain. His tunic smelled of an unfamiliar man’s sweat but she was too afraid to care. Never had she seen an enormous feline like this one baring its knife-like teeth and claws in such a menacing manner.

  Colbán bent his head to bring his lips down on hers, kissing her most forcefully. Jerking her head back, she protested, “Nay, sir. Do not. I may fear the teeth of the wild animal but you are not without teeth yourself.”

  She looked behind her and, seeing the animal had gone, pushed away from the tall captain. In truth, she feared him as much as the beast.

  From the woods came a familiar chuckle. “ ’Twas only a wee cat, more afraid of you than you were of it.”

  “Steinar?” Her eyes searched the thick growth of trees for a head of golden hair. She spotted him standing against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. “ ’Twas no wee cat!” she insisted. “The beast was wild and fierce. It scared me.”

  Steinar left the tree to indolently stroll toward her. A glance at Colbán told her the captain was not pleased.

  “Tell her, Colbán,” said Steinar.

  “Tell me what?” she asked, her gaze darting from one man to the other.

  “Well,” Colbán said, shooting Steinar a harsh glare, “mayhap ’twas not so fierce a beast as you thought, but ’twas still wild.”

  “You mean not as fierce as you wanted me to believe?” she said, feeling anger rising within her.

  Colbán said nothing, but Steinar laughed. “Anything to steal the lady’s kiss, eh Captain?”

  Colbán let out a sigh and bowed. “My pardon, my lady. I was sorely tempted.”

  Having been fooled by the king’s captain into allowing him an intimacy she would never have otherwise, she choked back the angry words she was tempted to utter. Too, she was annoyed beyond measure at Steinar’s finding it amusing when he should have been at least jealous given the kisses they had shared. She gave them both a “H’mf!” and turned on her heels and stomped out of the forest.

  As she left, she heard Colbán say to Steinar, “You might have waited.”

  “Not likely,” came the reply.

  “In the future, Scribe, confine your words to your scribbling.”

  “I am no longer merely the king’s scribe. I’m a guardsman now, one of your own.”

  “Aye,” Colbán growled. “And, as I am your captain, you will mind my orders. Where the queen’s ladies are concerned, do not oppose me.”

  * * *

  Steinar was more than a little angry but he had to temper his jealousy against what he understood were the king’s wishes. His heart lurched as he reminded himself Colbán had asked for Catrìona’s hand and the king seemed only too glad to accede to the captain’s request. Tempted as he was to raise his sword tip to the back of Colbán’s neck when he came upon the captain with his hands on Catrìona, seeing her back away, he had settled for laughter instead.

  That night it rained, which fit Steinar’s dour mood, and he ate in his tent where he brooded over the situation before sleep overtook him.

  The next day had them slogging through wind and rain as they pressed on to St. Andrews, mud splashing to their stirrups.

  In the wet weather, his leg took the opportunity to cramp, adding to his displeasure, but Catrìona, uncomplaining, pulled her cloak over her head against the rain and bore the dismal day like one of the men. She declined his invitation to be seated with the queen whose cart was now covered with an oilcloth tent.

  What should have been a day’s journey turned into two, but finally, the rain subsided and the sun emerged as they reached the coast.

  The smell of sea air and cries of gulls welcomed them to St. Andrews, raising his spirits. Catrìona threw her cloak off her head and tilted her face to the sun, her auburn hair glistening like a dark jewel.

  Behind the stone church, where Bishop Fothad stood waiting, was the North Sea, its deep blue waters a stark contrast to the ivory sand on the shore and the white clouds billowing above them.

  “ ’Tis beautiful,” she said.

  With eyes only for her, he agreed. “Aye, most beautiful.”

  As they pulled rein, Steinar slid from his horse and helped Catrìona to the ground.

  “Have you been here before?” she asked, her green eyes focused on the bishop clothed in a white cowl robe. Behind them, Steinar glimpsed Colbán helping Margaret and Audra down from the cart.

  “Nay, but I know Bishop Fothad. He presided at the marriage of Malcolm and Margaret and has come to Dunfermline more than once to hear the queen’s confession.”

  “Those must have been short meetings,” she murmured.

  He laughed. “You mean the confessions?”

  “Aye,” she said with a smile he thought winsome. “I look forward to meeting the bishop.”

  Next to the stone church with its single tower was the Culdee abbey in which the bishop lived, for Fothad was one of them.

  Steinar waited until Catrìona had joined Audra and Margaret and the three proceeded toward the bishop. The queen appeared weary. “Does the queen seem tired to you?” he asked Colbán. “More than usual, I mean.”

  “Mayhap you are right,” said the captain.

  “I would speak to Bishop Fothad to assure a hot bath awaits in her chamber. Margaret is too gracious to ask but these last few days have been a trial. She needs to rest, and the ladies, too, will want a bath, do you not think?”

  Colbán shifted his gaze to study the queen who seemed to be leaning against Catrìona while speaking with the bishop. “Aye, ’tis a good idea. The king would not be happy if he thought we had allowed her to grow overtired. While you speak with the bishop, I will organize the men to raise the tents. I expect the abbey will have room only for the queen, her maidservant and the ladies.”

  Steinar nodded and strode to where Margaret and the ladies spoke to the bishop.

  “Bishop Fothad,” he said dipping his head.

  “Ah! ’Tis the king’s scribe,” said the cleric.

  “No longer a scribe, Bishop,” said the queen. “Steinar is now one of the king’s guards.”

  The monk gave him a long studying look. “Aye, I can see you have changed. Now you have the appearance of a warrior.”

  As the ladies walked toward the abbey ahead of them, Steinar told the bishop of his concern for the queen. The older man nodded to all his requests. “It shall be done.”

  Inside the abbey’s thick walls, it was cool. Margaret was led to a seat and given a cup of water.

  Catrìona left the queen to come to him. “Margaret is exhausted from the last few days.”

  “Aye, I have seen it. The bishop has agreed to ready Margaret’s chamber and have a hot bath for her. She can rest ere we dine.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Catrìona popped a last berry into her mouth, noticing the fading light coming through the window. The evening meal was over and intent on having a view of the sea before the sun’s light was gone, she asked the queen if she might be permitted a walk outside.

  Margaret looked at her with an understanding expression. “Go. ’Twill do you good.”

  Catrìona thanked the bishop for a fine meal and headed toward the peg where her cloak hung near the door, but before she reached it, the king’s captain sprang to his feet and snatched up the green woolen garment and draped it over her shoulders.

  “Might I accompany you, my lady?”

  She had hoped Steinar would go with her. He had said little since their encounter in the forest and she was hoping for some time alone with him to clear the air between them. The constant rain and wind they had experienced on their way to St. Andrews had left them no time for anything save try
ing to keep dry. However, in the stern set of Colbán’s jaw, she sensed “nay” was not going to be an acceptable reply. “Of course. Your company is welcome, sir.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the queen smile.

  If Catrìona was less than enthusiastic, Colbán did not appear to notice. But she was certain Audra did. A glance in the lady’s direction revealed Audra’s hazel eyes following her and the king’s captain as they left the abbey. To Catrìona’s disappointment, Steinar’s gaze was focused on his wine.

  Outside, she and Colbán strolled in silence beyond the abbey to the edge of the grass-covered land, looking seaward across the sand. Waves gently rushing to shore a stone’s throw away hissed as they met the sand, the sound soothing to her ears.

  In the distance, darkening clouds hung heavy over the sea. She turned to see the sky behind her. At the horizon, slashes of rose and gold intruded between layers of gray and blue as the sun gave a parting glance to the land.

  Taking in the beauty of the setting sun, she turned back to the sea. “I was raised on Loch Lomond and the River Clyde. This is my first glimpse of the North Sea.”

  Colbán spoke in his deep, warrior’s voice. “Then I am pleased you are seeing it with me.”

  “You are from Moray?” She knew little of his home except it was the land of Mac Bethad, King Malcolm’s old enemy.

  “Aye. My youth was spent far to the north. But during the last ten years I have served Malcolm, we have sailed many of Scotland’s waters together.”

  Catrìona shot him a sidelong glance, thinking he could not yet have seen thirty summers. “You were a young warrior when you came to Dunfermline?”

  He stared into the distance. “Aye, it seems a very long time ago.”

  “Will you return to your home some day?” she asked, wondering at the same time if she wanted to return to the Vale of Leven. The land was now the king’s and there was no home to return to.

  “Nay, I think not. I have made my home with Malcolm and my loyalties are here. I expect to serve him for the rest of my days.” He turned from staring at the sea to stare at her. Even without looking at him she felt the heat of his gaze. “But I do want a wife and sons.”