Claire Delacroix (37 page)

The Hawk’s grip tightened over Aileen’s fingers, for their lovemaking had already conjured results. They had agreed to tell his mother the news first, so held their tongues at this moment.

Boys from the village who had been trained for this moment leapt forward as the company dismounted to lead the horses to the stables. They would see the beasts brushed and tended, under the ostler’s stern eye.

Introductions were made and greetings exchanged, a warmth lighting around Aileen’s heart that the Hawk’s family accepted her so readily into their brood.

Carts and maids and palfreys crowded into the bailey as the family spoke, then another banner was carried in triumph through the gates. Aileen began to fret about the amount of food prepared in the kitchens, for she had not anticipated so large a company.

“Do you think we will have sufficient fish for the meal this day?” she asked her husband in a whisper. “The eels are not so prolific as yet though the miller’s son has labored hard.”

The Hawk caught her close against his side. “What we have will suffice. I knew my family would arrive in full this year, so fear not, lady mine.”

“Because the capture of all of Inverfyre is worthy of celebration?” she asked, letting him see her pride in him.

“Indeed.” He smiled slowly. “Though my mother will be as intent upon meeting my new bride as visiting the chapel once again. Fear not—they come for the company more than the fare.”

The clarion sounded again and another party rode through the gates. The villagers began to cheer and Aileen guessed why. “This is the Lammergeier banner, then?” she asked.

“It is no other. Come and meet my parents.” The Hawk caught her hand in his and led her to meet the pair that had ridden through the gates.

Their steeds were as dark and as large as the stallions favored by the Hawk and his men, and Aileen understood from whence this magnificent lineage had come. The woman’s hair was dark, like the Hawk’s, but threaded with silver, while the man was tall and fair. The man dismounted, then aided his wife to do so, and Aileen saw that there were tears in the older woman’s eyes.

“Aileen, meet my father, Gawain, and my mother, Evangeline.”

Gawain granted Aileen a crooked smile that reminded her of the one the Hawk could conjure when he so chose. He bent over her hand with a flourish and kissed her knuckles. “It is a delight to make your acquaintance,” he said. There was devilry in his eyes and Aileen imagined that the children would be smitten with him as well.

“The Lady of Inverfyre,” Evangeline murmured, smiling through her tears. She was a beautiful woman, her features strong, and she moved with grace. “I am delighted to meet you, Aileen.” She kissed Aileen’s cheek, her touch as light as a brush of a feather though it warmed Aileen to her toes.

“You asked us to accompany Inverfyre’s new priest,” Gawain said, then turn and gestured to the simply garbed man who slipped from his saddle when indicated. His name was Father Gilchrist, the same as the priest at Abernye, and Aileen smiled at the coincidence. She greeted him warmly, as did her husband.

“I hope you have slept well these past weeks,” Aileen told the priest. His brows rose in silent query. “You have much labor awaiting you here, for there are children to be christened and marriages to be blessed and many confessions to be heard afore we celebrate the mass on the morrow.”

He smiled with confidence. “I welcome the challenge, my lady. Surely I will not be forsaken in doing God’s work?” He chuckled along with Aileen, and she liked his manner. The Hawk had chosen well when he had journeyed to Edinburgh in the spring to find a priest and she gave him a smile that showed her pleasure.

“Michael!” shouted a woman who rode last through the gates, in defiance of protocol, her steed galloping with haste. Her hair was long and as fair as gilded sunlight, and though she must have bound it neatly that morn, tendrils escaped her braid. She leapt from the saddle with astonishing agility and Aileen thought she heard Sebastien catch his breath. “You have made a millpond in this wretched wilderness! And there are walls built around the old chapel now! Zounds, but you are becoming a respectable laird, little brother!”

With that, she threw herself upon the Hawk, landing a tempest of kisses upon his cheeks while he laughed. “Rosamunde, you will persuade my new wife that my mistress has arrived.”

She laughed in her turn. “To couple with one’s sister would be disgusting beyond belief. I do not believe you capable of such a foul deed,” she chided cheerfully, then turned a bright smile upon Aileen. “So, you are the woman who finally captured the Hawk’s reluctant heart?” she demanded, an approving light in her eyes. “I can see why, for it is clear the match favors both of you.”

Before Aileen could summon a word, Rosamunde seized her shoulders and kissed her heartily upon both cheeks. “Be happy, Aileen, that is my wish for you both,” she whispered, then winked as she stepped back.

Sebastien clutched at his heart and feigned a swoon. Rosamunde watched him and laughed merrily. “What a woman!” he cried, and she laughed louder.

Tynan shook his head and turned away, his manner grim. Aileen watched Evangeline note Tynan’s response, then exchange a thoughtful glance with her spouse. Clearly there was some old tale at root of this, though Aileen did not dare to ask after it as yet.

“We have brought you gifts, Aileen,” Evangeline said. “For any lady has need of a garden to take a repose, and we knew full well that Inverfyre’s garden was long destroyed.”

“Indeed,” Ysabella said with resolve, quickly pointing out the box that she wished to have brought before them. It was more like a cage, its sides and top wrought with holes, and Aileen could not imagine what it contained.

Ysabella unfastened the buckles and threw back the lid. “I brought you a hazel, from my own garden,” she said, her tone crisp. “It is a most practical tree, for it will bear nuts in time, which one can eat in harsh times.”

Evangeline laughed with affection. “Ysabella is always certain that dark times could lie ahead.”

“And so they could,” that woman agreed, though she smiled at Merlyn. “Though some of us are better at keeping them at bay.”

“And I brought you a honeysuckle,” Evangeline declared. “Also from Ysabella’s garden, for I feared that her gift was too pragmatic. You have need of beauty and scent in a garden, and so you will have both from this vine. Look, it has made a blossom even as we journeyed!”

Rosamunde stepped forward and gestured to the third plant nestled in the box. “And I have brought you the plant without which no lady’s garden can be complete. My mother and aunt insist it will die in this clime, and that it is no gift to bring something so ill-fated, but my heart is more merry than theirs.”

“It is a rose,” Aileen whispered despite the lump in her throat.

“You know it?” Rosamunde demanded with delight. “I thought you were raised even further north than Inverfyre?” A wicked gleam lit her eyes. “Could it be that my aunt and mother are mistaken?”

Aileen smiled. “My mother grew them, though not easily, at Abernye.” She reached out a touched the green leaves of the plant and was pleased with its vigor.

“Its roses are as red as blood,” Rosamunde confided. “And smell more sweetly than the finest perfume in Constantinople.”

“I thank you,” Aileen said hoarsely. “The red blooms were my mother’s favorites.” She turned to the other women and smiled. “I thank you all for your kindness. I have yearned for a garden and these gifts will begin it well.”

She knew the Hawk understood that she was thinking of the garden in her memory palace, as well as the honeysuckle and hazel that had appeared in her visions. Her chest was tight with emotion, for these guests had unwittingly chosen the perfect gifts for her, and she was deeply touched.

But there would be time aplenty for expressing her gratitude more fully. Their guests were tired, hungry and thirsty. It was time to show the Hawk’s hospitality.

“I bid you all welcome to Inverfyre,” Aileen said, encompassing the entire company with a gesture. “And heartily anticipate the chance to know you all better. Come, come into the hall and partake of the meal that has been prepared.”

* * *

The grass was wet with dew on the morning of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist, but the ladies lifted their skirts and walked to the chapel. The way was not short, but a path had been cut through the woods, and they made a procession to the chapel high on the hill. There were those in the company, without doubt, who had an aching head this morning, but Aileen was filled with joy. She carried a blessed burden fast against her left side and her heart pounding in anticipation of this day’s events.

The sunlight danced through the leaves of the trees, casting bright patches of light upon the forest floor. They walked in pairs, the priest leading the company with his censer swinging. Aileen and the Hawk followed behind him, followed by the Hawk’s parents, his aunt and uncle, his cousins and their uncommonly subdued children. Those of the Hawk’s cohorts destined to be wed this day—Reinhard and Margery, Ahearn and Nissa, Fernando and Guinevere—were next in the procession. (Aileen wondered whether she alone found it amusing that Guinevere was the sole bride who was not obviously pregnant.) The Hawk’s remaining cohorts strode after them, his household followed, then their remaining guests and their households, and finally, the villagers of Inverfyre. All were dressed in their richest finery; all wore their best gems; all weapons and mail were polished to a gleam.

Their procession moved with a purposeful rustle, solely the brush of silken robes and their footfalls on the path disturbing the quiet of the forest. Birds called to each other and the stream gurgled alongside their course. Smoke and a sweet scent rose from the censer as the priest swung it from side to side.

The chapel itself was astonishingly bright in comparison, for the walls and roof had yet to be rebuilt. The altar had been replaced, however, and an embroidered cloth graced it on this day, the hem flicking in the breeze. The cross and chalice upon the altar shone. A dozen waiting boys began to sing a hymn as the company crossed the threshold, their music as sweet as that of the birds.

Aileen looked as they walked down the aisle, feeling the past in close proximity. They stepped first upon the stone that marked the grave of Magnus Armstrong, then each successive son of the lineage. The last space before the altar was devoid of carvings, a place left for the seventh son of Magnus’ bloodline. She and the Hawk halted upon that stone, her right hand held fast in his left at shoulder height, as Father Gilchrist sang the mass.

The tang of blessed wine was still upon their tongues when Aileen turned to face the Hawk. She took her burden in both hands and unfurled the undyed silk that surrounded it. The wooden
Titulus Croce
had been broken once, and now was graced with a red leather harness, adorned with gilt crosses, that held its two halves together.

On impulse, Aileen turned and offered the relic to Evangeline. A flush stained that lady’s cheeks, though she stepped quickly to accept its burden in her hands. She caressed it slightly as she took Aileen’s place afore the altar and held it out to her son.

The Hawk laid his hands upon it. “I swear by all that is holy to defend the
Titulus Croce
entrusted to our forebear Magnus Armstrong, to protect the holding of Inverfyre granted by God to that same forebear, and to defend all those souls pledged to my blade and my household. This vow I do swear to uphold for as long there is blood in my veins and breath in my body, so help me God.”

Evangeline surrendered the relic to the Hawk, who then entrusted it to the priest. Father Gilchrist kissed it and murmured a prayer over it. Evangeline kissed her son’s cheeks in succession, then stepped back, blinking back her tears.

Aileen then resumed her place. She took the seal of Inverfyre, which had been fashioned into a ring, and slipped it onto her husband’s finger. They shared a smile as the priest blessed them, then turned to face the company.

Aileen held the Hawk’s be-ringed hand high. “Praise be to God,” she cried, so all could hear the truth of it. “The rightful Laird of Inverfyre is restored!”

The company cheered and the sunlight seemed to sparkle a little brighter. “And from this day forward, there shall be two strongholds upon the lands of Inverfyre,” the Hawk declared. “One here, where the chapel and relic will be guarded.” He offered a scroll to the priest with a flourish. “As you know, I have made an endowment to support a monastic house and granted these lands, including the chapel, for their sustenance in exchange for holy services.”

“Praise be,” Father Gilchrist said with a smile. “I trust you will see the outer walls protected with men of greater military might. There is nothing like a rare prize, my laird, to tempt the ambitions of others.”

“I have entrusted that burden to my comrade, Ewen. He shall be the marshal of the priory of Inverfyre.”

Ewen bowed, his neck reddening at this honor. “I shall do my best, my laird.”

“And that will more than suffice,” the Hawk said. He raised his voice when he continued. “And still there shall remain the second keep of Inverfyre, where my wife and I will abide.”

The company turned as one to view the distant keep and Aileen smiled as a banner was unfurled over its gates. It was a replacement for the one destroyed by the MacLaren clan, wrought by Nissa and Aileen in stolen hours these past months. Aileen saw that she had surprised her husband and knew she did not imagine the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“You did this for me?” he murmured.

“It was only fitting.” She smiled as she held his gaze. “Though I must confess that I have added a hazel and honeysuckle to your insignia.”

The Hawk laughed. “So long as they are entwined forevermore, lady mine, I have no complaint.”

They looked back together and Aileen caught her breath. Somehow the sunlight danced in the leaves of those thirteen silver-barked trees and for a heartbeat, the leaves appeared to be blood red.

Then they were green again, rustling slightly in the breeze. Aileen looked up and the Hawk regarded her so solemnly that she knew he too had seen it, whatever it had been. She smiled and touched his jaw.