Claire Delacroix (35 page)

My heart leapt, stopped, then raced like a wild thing. Ada cried out in shock. I stood straighter and began to laugh.

I knew the rider’s name as well as she.

* * *

XIV

The two earls pressing their wills upon me fell silent in trepidation. So they should, by my thinking. A reckoning was come before them.

Merlyn rode the prancing destrier between the tables, and whispers rippled through the company in his wake. He halted before the high table and flung back his hood as the steed snorted and stamped.

My heart leapt at the risk he took, but it was William who uttered my husband’s name. Both earls crossed themselves and both looked pale, as if a ghost stood before them.

Merlyn dismounted, then strode forward to take my hand, touching his lips to my fingertips. “I apologize,
chère
, for my unavoidable delay. I cannot help but note that you have defended yourself and your rights quite splendidly.”

I nodded, unable to make a sound. I was both delighted that he was hale and terrified that he would not remain so for long.

“You lied about your demise!” William finally mustered his outrage.

“That it not become fact, yes.” Merlyn gave my fingers a minute squeeze, then looked from one earl to the other. “I knew that you would come quickly to Ravensmuir, and I knew that you would compel my lady to wed one of your men before she could request the protection of the crown.” His deep voice carried easily over the rapt assembly. “So, I have seen fit to summon the crown myself.”

“No!” George protested.

“You had no right to usurp my responsibilities,” William argued.

“I had every right,” Merlyn said crisply. He gripped my fingers tightly. “A rape will suffice as a consummation, and we all know the truth of that. Would my lady have escaped your ambitions this night, whatever protest she might have made?”

George and William looked away. I noted that Calum appeared to be very angry, though whether his fury was directed at Merlyn or his liege lord, I could not say. He had not, after all, been recommended as a suitor for my hand.

Merlyn continued. “You harbor a murderer in your ranks, or a man who was prepared to commit a murder, and until he is named, it is unclear who is friend and who is foe of Ravensmuir. You would force my lady to wed another, though she is not widowed in truth, and you would undermine the rights granted to Ravensmuir by the king.” He smiled at me. “My lady shows good sense in ensuring that you do not sit fully armed within my hall.”

Dissent broke out in the company then, each earl defending his actions and more than one man demanding details of my spouse. But Merlyn lifted his hand for silence. “I found the king resident at Haddington. Listen! Your liege lord approaches!”

The distant note of a clarion carried clearly to the hall, as did the sound of many hoof beats.

The king and his justice arrived at Ravensmuir - and not a moment too soon.

* * *

When the king was installed at the high table and his appetite sated, the great hall took the appearance of a court. Merlyn told of George’s summons and his subsequent assault. The earls protested my common status and position as heiress, demanding that Ravensmuir’s deed be amended.

I realized that they still expected Merlyn to be killed.

“You believe the murderer to be among us?” the king asked.

Merlyn nodded.

“But this is outrageous!” George sputtered. “You cannot make an accusation of murder among men of honor!”

Merlyn granted George a cold glance. “And where is the honor in summoning a man to his death?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was on the road, coming to Dunbar at your request and at your designated hour, when I was attacked.”

George paled. “But I never sent for you.”

“You did. You wished to discuss a relic which you believed to be in my possession.”

George shook his head adamantly. “I did not even know you were at Ravensmuir again. Although I always welcome your companionship, Merlyn, I did not summon you.”

“How curious that your man insisted that you did.” Merlyn turned and glanced over the company. Calum, I noted, set his lips and boldly returned Merlyn’s gaze.

“I was summoned to Dunbar to do my lord’s bidding,” Calum said, “and told to grant to you the message that I did.”

“By whom?” George demanded.

Calum pointed to George’s son. “By my lord’s son John.”

John bounced to his feet and pounded his fist upon the board. “That is a lie!”

“It seems the air is thick with lies of late,” I said.

“No less your own,” William observed tartly.

Merlyn pivoted and clucked his tongue at the two earls. “You should know better, Sir William, than to believe a man is dead without seeing his corpse.”

William’s lips tightened. “I demanded as much.”

“And you, Sir George, should know better than to try to usurp the rights inherent with Ravensmuir. Ysabella is my heiress, as writ.” Merlyn held my gaze. “You all should be so fortunate as to take a bride as stalwart and lusty as mine.”

Several men toasted to this happy turn of events, thinking matters resolved. Calum alone looked grim in the assembly. I surmised that both earls were far more happy to have Merlyn alive than the prospect of finding a man to wed me who pleased them both.

The king mused, giving more credence to the earls’ complaints than I had hoped. “Merlyn, you cannot fail to see their view,” he said. “The borders are restless and a keep held by a woman could be lost readily. Your bride is common-born, and would thus be unfamiliar with what must be done - should she be widowed in truth.”

“She is not witless,” Merlyn said, but when the king shook his head, my spouse’s brow furrowed. “And if the keep is armed, the fields tilled, what then?”

The king’s brows rose. “It has not been done in decades, and you, you have never been here oft enough to oversee such a feat.”

“I would make Ravensmuir my abode.”

“What of your trade?”

“I have left it. My brother is the only Lammergeier to travel abroad in these days. I have a wife and a home to defend.”

The king slanted a glance to me, his quick survey revealing his doubts of Merlyn’s choice. “Avery must have had considerable treasures to his name,” he murmured. My heart sank that the one gift that would have certainly gained his endorsement was gone, disappearing into the distance with Gawain.

By my own fault.

But Merlyn smiled. “Indeed, my father’s treasures are still here, in this keep and beneath my hand. As I have left the trade, I shall have to make gifts of them.”

The king pursed his lips, no doubt considering the price of his favor. I was concerned that Merlyn made so bold a hint of his rich possessions, for many men in the company cast glances about themselves with new interest.

Avery’s repute must have travelled wide.

“It is time for a new beginning at Ravensmuir, one in which all truths to be aired. Let us have another truth before you make your choice.” Merlyn rested his hand upon the board before me. “Give me your mother’s letter,
chère
.”

I was shocked by his request. I clutched his box to my chest, not dreading the letter’s contents so much as having my secrets revealed before all of these men. I dropped my voice to a whisper, haunted by the reading of my spouse’s letter in Kinfairlie’s market. “Merlyn, not before the entire company.”

He met my gaze, his own dark and compelling. “Yes,
chère
. Here and now. It is time to put questions to rest.” He brushed his fingertips across my own and murmured. “Trust me in this.”

I was aware of nothing but his gaze. I stared into his eyes, saw his conviction, and knew that the contents of my mother’s missive were no mystery to Merlyn. He had read it. He knew. He had fetched Alasdair for Mavella, he had seen Tynan safely from the grasp of these earls who spoke of young heirs and “accidents”, he had fetched the king to defend our due. He had declared himself alive before an entire company lest I be compelled to wed another.

For all of that, and something nameless besides, I trusted Merlyn.

* * *

My heart in my mouth, I unlocked the box and surrendered the softened letter to my spouse. Merlyn smiled fleetingly at me, knowing full well the import of what I did and why. The earls watched with undisguised curiosity.

“How did you come by this?” Merlyn asked me. “Just so all gathered here know the truth of it.”

I took a shaking breath. “I found it stitched into my mother’s chemise when I prepared her body for burial.” I gripped the table in my anxiety. “I had never seen it before and still I do not know what tidings it contains.”

“I do,
chère
. I do.” Merlyn spoke with such quiet assurance that I recalled suddenly the sight of him in my chamber, shrouded in shadows, spinning the key upon its silken cord.

He turned to address the rapt company. “It is a letter, from a devoted mother to her daughter, a letter that mother knew her child could not read. As Ada observed, Ysabella cannot read or write, for she has never had the fortune to be taught. She could not have amended the deed to Ravensmuir, she could not have composed this missive.”

“It is true,” Mavella added.

I gripped my hands together, aching to know what was writ yet fearing to be disappointed. William unexpectedly touched my shoulder in encouragement.

Merlyn unfolded the letter and began to read, not a whisper echoing in the hall to interrupt him.

“My dearest daughter Ysabella -

Herein lies the truth of who I am and how you came to be of this world. This is the tale not only of a long past night but of a lie I perpetuated for the safety of my eldest child. I have long told people that I served at Kinfairlie keep, I have long insisted that I remember nothing of the burning of that manor, yet neither of these things are true. I dare not make my confession to a priest, for I know that interesting tidings have a way of loosing themselves from even the most reluctant tongues. I fear to jeopardize my daughter’s health, I fear to trust any soul who might betray me.

And those days at Kinfairlie taught me that betrayal can come from any corner.

You know that I am called Elizabeth of Kinfairlie, but this is not truly my name. I did not serve at Kinfairlie, despite my having said as much many times. I lived there, it is true, but my real name is Marie Elise. I am the third daughter of the last Laird and Lady of Kinfairlie. I am the only person from that keep who survived its destruction.”

“She survived!” William said with wonder. I realized that he must have known, or known of, my mother when she was young at Kinfairlie.

The company gasped and leaned forward, enraptured. I closed my eyes, hearing the words as if they were uttered in my mother’s own dear voice, and felt my tears gather.

“None knew me in those days. Few had met me, not many more had ever seen me. I was a mere ten years of age when Kinfairlie was assaulted, young and sheltered. My father feared that men might lust for his daughters and kept us safe within the walls of his abode. My father feared lawlessness, but still it came to his own gates and rapped loudly for admission.

We thought that some soul would aid us when the wolves howled at the door. We thought on each successive day of the siege that a relieving army would march over the dark moors and fall upon our enemies. But the moors were vast and still, the road empty, day after day after day. And the barrage against our gates seldom halted. After several weeks, I saw in my father’s eyes that he no longer believed aid would come.

With the bravery and folly of a child, I decided it was not because my father had few allies, not because my father seldom came to the aid of another, not because his request had been denied. I knew with childlike conviction that it was only because my wondrous father’s many friends did not know of Kinfairlie’s distress.

I appointed myself to redress the error.

There are many ways in and out of an old keep, and children are the ones who know them all. I knew a way through the cellars to the outcropping on the moor. From thence I knew I could walk to Dunbar. My sisters and I had seen it, perched upon the coast in the distance, though I did not then how far the distance would proved to be. I knew little of the world though I learned much on the morning I chose to seek aid.

By some dark coincidence, it was the same day that the attackers chose to press their assault. No doubt they hoped to encourage my father’s surrender, but my father would surrender to no marauding villains. Burning buckets of pitch were lobbed over the walls with first light that morning. Panic ensued when the roof of the stables caught fire and I knew that I had to leave immediately.

I doubt that any missed me. My mother had dressed us all in simple garb, that we might not be known from the servants if the gates were taken. I ducked into the cellar, down the hole that my sisters and I knew, and ran with the certainty that I was my family’s sole chance.

In truth, they had no chance. By the time I reached the cavern’s end, I could hear the screams behind me and the crackle of flames. I crept out the opening and climbed high to look upon the disaster of my home.

And this was my mistake. Mercenaries surrounded the walls of my home, even as it succumbed to flames, though I was blind to their presence. They could not approach for the heat, while I could not move for the sight before me.

Kinfairlie had become an inferno. The screams of every soul I knew and loved filled the air. I wept in shock and dismay. I recollect that the sun hid its face from the destruction far below, and that the world turned dark. In the darkness that endured for a thousand heartbeats, I could the fires lick at Ravensmuir in the distance.

I must have stood there, too shocked to move, for a man turned slowly, as if becoming aware of my presence. He was young and garbed as a knight, large, his face blackened with soot. He was angry, his eyes lit with another fire when he shouted at me.