Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles) (13 page)

He had to make things right for her, but how? He could hardly threaten her into taking his amends. That was Brice’s method, never his. She’d sought nae aid in protecting her family from Brice’s threats. Colin knew she’d feed him to the flames of hell before she’d accept help or promises from him now. Nae matter what he wanted, he could do nothing to change matters until the spies were eliminated, the letters were found, and Scotland was safe from Edward Plantagenet.

Sorcha fled to the walled herb garden. Too many memories haunted the place, and she’d avoided it since her marriage to Brice. However, she knew ’twas the one spot none would look for her, Colin most of all. She locked the gate behind her and sat on the bench against a far wall. The same bench where they’d shared that “fatal” kiss. Certain she was alone, she let the tears fall. She hadna cried since waking against the stones of that cliff. She wept for every crippling step she’d taken toward Dungarob all those years ago. She wept for the weakness that hadna allowed her to murder Brice when he threatened her family. She wept for the years lost to raising her sisters, when she should have married and raised her own family.

She couldna stem the flood. She’d never told anyone that she’d seen her parents murdered. Her silence had been her bulwark. How Colin had found a chink in that wall, she didna know. But he now knew how weak she was. He could even more easily threaten her family and her peace. She was doomed. The only thing she could do was see this charade to its end and pray he would keep his promise to allow her to leave Strathnaver.

Eventually she ran out of tears, but she continued to sit on the garden bench, staring into a painful past and a bleak future. Regaining her composure took much longer than it should have; the wound Colin had opened would not scab over easily. Still she had no business wallowing in self-pity when she had the power to help her family. And help them she would. Colin Marr would pay dearly for her cooperation. The fee would return wealth and pride to Clan MacKai.

Late afternoon shadows lengthened in the garden. ’Twas past time she went inside, took up her duties as countess, and used those duties to search out the spies Colin wanted. The sooner the enemies were found, the sooner she could obtain restitution, get thief payment or the return of the MacKai breeding stock, and peace for her family then leave the past, Strathnaver, and its earl behind forever.

She stood, smoothed her skirts, rubbed away all trace of tears, and marched into her future. She entered the stronghold and made her way down the passage to the kitchen. Though she had faith in the cook’s memory, she wished to test the woman for diligence’s sake, and, depending on the result, discuss what the chamberlain had said.

On her way to the kitchen, she saw the door to the larder open and Sir Broc MacAba emerge with a small sack. What he did in the larder she couldna imagine. However, too many odd events were happening so she wouldna reveal herself. Sorcha stepped into the deeper shadows on one side of the passage then stilled, praying she would not be seen. The knight shut the door, produced a key, and locked the portal. He cocked his head as if listening for something, then looked both ways down the passage. She held her breath.

He pocketed the key, secured the small sack at his belt, and set off toward the kitchen. Sorcha followed silently, taking extra effort to keep her foot from dragging and staying within the shadows.

Only four people had keys to the larder: the chamberlain, the cook, Sorcha herself, and Colin. How had Sir Broc gotten a key? Could the chamberlain have sent this man to fetch something? Why would Sir Broc do the chamberlain’s bidding? Was there something to be made of the relationship between clans MacClaren and MacAba? Or was that meant to distract them from the true traitors?

She kept her quarry in sight. Nae logical explanation for the man’s presence in the larder leapt to mind. The question so occupied her she almost missed the moment Sir Broc left the stronghold, by a door just outside the kitchen. That door was close to the stables and the laundry and was used by anyone to get easily to either spot.

Sorcha waited a few moments to be certain the man didna see when she opened the same door. She hoped she would witness him returning the key to the chamberlain. She hoped in vain, for nae a body was in sight between the stables and the laundry. She hadna waited so long that Sir Broc would have disappeared before getting to either building. So where could he have gone?

She was tempted to stroll into the stables. ’Twas the most likely place for a knight to go. But what if the laundry had been his destination? What if he had gone to neither place but had skirted around the stronghold walls, heading for some other destination? The chapel, the granary, the dovecote— he could be anywhere.

Deciding she was better off speaking with the cook, as she’d planned, Sorcha turned around. She could report the results of that conversation and this strange incident to Colin. He’d help her figure out if the presence of Sir Broc in the larder was anything to worry about or nae.

She arrived to find the kitchen in an uproar.

A hefty scullery maid stood screaming in the opening before Sorcha.

Looking over the woman’s shoulder, Sorcha observed the cook prostrate on a long bench near the servants’ dining table. Beside her, Colin knelt and pelted out orders.

“Bring me water and clean cloths, immediately.”

The spit boy raced away.

“Send for my wife, the healer, and the priest,” Colin ordered.

“Aye, my lord,” replied a squire, who then raced off past Sorcha and the still screaming maid toward the door to the stable yard. Sorcha plastered herself against the far wall of the passage to let him by.

“Someone stop that screeching.”

Sorcha stepped up behind the maid and placed a hand on her shoulder.

The pitch of the woman’s scream rose to earsplitting, and the maid leapt into mid-air as she turned. Eyes wide with horror, she stared at Sorcha. Then the maid’s eyes rolled upward, her head sagged to the side, and her legs folded. Sorcha managed to break the woman’s fall, but the maid’s weight and size pulled them both inevitably to the ground.

Wriggling out from underneath the servant, Sorcha stepped over the prone form and marched into the kitchen. “Go attend that maid,” she addressed the nearest person—a young woman who stood wringing her hands.

The wide-eyed, terrified stare this woman gave Sorcha echoed the first maid’s expression. “A … aye, my lady.”

As Sorcha made her way to the bench and the cook, the remaining servants scattered. Only those assisting Colin remained.

“What’s to do, husband?”

“Cook’s been stabbed and the wound is deep.” Colin looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands covered in blood as he pressed a cloth against the cook’s ample side. “ I need you to place your fingers atop mine and press on the wound as I slip my hands from beneath yours.”

Sorcha nodded. “Let me just get another cloth to put atop the one already soaked with her blood.”

They made the change.

“Pray that the bleeding slows and stops. I must speak to the servants who were present when the cook was attacked. I’ll take them aside one by one so none can interfere with what another says.”

Sorcha nodded again and concentrated on keeping the cook alive, praying, until the healer arrived with the priest hard on her heels.

 “We’ll care for her now, my lady,” the healer said.

Sorcha scooted out of the way then seated herself on the opposite bench. “Mary, Queen of Heaven, I beseech you keep this woman alive. Help her to heal and thrive. Bless her in her time of need. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Time passed slowly before the healer stood, giving her patient over to the priest. She washed her hands, gave the bloodied water and cloths to the recovered scullery maid, and came to sit beside Sorcha.

Sorcha ended her prayers and turned to the healer. “Will she live?”

The healer nodded. “She is lucky. The wound is deep but clean. If she escapes infection, Cook has a good chance of recovering.”

Sorcha let out a breath. “Praise God.”

“Amen.”

Aware that a number of servants had crept back into the kitchen and now circled the walls, Sorcha raised her head. “Who can tell me what happened here?”

One by one she stared each servant in the eyes. One by one they all dropped their gazes and shook their heads.

Several trembled or wrung their hands. Finally the woman who fainted stepped forward. “I’d just finished talking with Cook at the table. We stood up to go back to our work when a squire came running into the kitchens. He carried a small sword, stabbed the cook, and raced out the way he came.” The hefty servant straightened and lifted her chin, giving it a defiant tilt. “The squire wore the badge of Clan MacKai.”

The watching circle of servants gasped.

Sorcha jerked backward and shouted, “Nae!”

“I dinna lie, Lady.”

The priest stood from where he’d knelt beside the cook.

“Lady Marr, our cook is resting now, but before she slept, she said the same as this servant. The attacker was a squire with a small sword and wearing the badge of Clan MacKai.”

Sorcha wanted to deny everything, defend her clan and family, but how could she in the face of two eyewitnesses?

At that moment, Colin strode back into the room. Sorcha would never have imagined she could be glad to see him.

“Why is everyone standing about? Get back to your work.” His glare swept the arc of servants.

Chastised, the circle broke up, and the servants went about their normal tasks.

“You.” Colin gestured to two big men. “Move the cook to her bed.”

“I will go with and see her settled,” the healer said.

“If you’ve nae need of me, my lord, I will return to the chapel,” the priest said.

Colin nodded and set his gaze on Sorcha, extending his hand. “Wife, please, come with me.”

Confused about what she’d heard and keenly aware of all the watching eyes, she went to him without hesitation and followed him to their bedchamber. He seated her on her bench beneath the window then sat in the chair nearby.

“Do you know what happened?”

Still dazed, she spoke without thinking. “I was told that a squire wearing the badge of Clan MacKai attacked our cook with a small sword.”

“That matches what I was told.”

A chill shuddered through her. “Do you think I ordered this?”

He lifted a brow. “The thought hadna occurred to me—until just now.”

Mary in Heaven, what had she done? He’d nae suspected her, and now she’d put the idea in his head.

“If anyone from Clan MacKai did so, ’twould be you or your brother.”

“Raeb doesn’t send others to kill for him. Even if we were inclined to murder, neither of us would be so stupid as to send a man wearing the MacKai badge and colors.”

“I agree.” Colin nodded. “Which is why I believe someone wants Brice to think his wife wishes him dead, and attempted to have the cook murdered so she wouldna stand in the way.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“Any number of people from my stepmother to the chamberlain, the steward, or one of the spies we are trying to root out.”

Sorcha blinked. “I thought we suspected the chamberlain and steward of being spies.”

“No, we merely discovered that each of them has something to hide. That could be spying or something else, like stealing from the kitchen supplies or keeping false records in order to get money for his own personal needs.”

“You are making excuses for them.”

“Nae, if crimes are committed, the guilty will see justice. But justice must be administered for wrongs actually done, nae for some suspected crime. Besides, if a person is mistakenly convicted of spying, then the truly guilty will continue to threaten the safety of Scotland.”

“That’s true.”

Colin leaned forward and put a hand on her knee. “You would have thought the same, had you nae been so overwrought at the cook’s condition.”

She inhaled and released a deep breath. “I suppose so. The incident unnerved me so greatly, I nearly forgot what happened just before I arrived at the kitchen.”

“Tell me.”

Bringing up her time spent in the herb garden would serve nae purpose, so she plunged into the incident outside the larder.

“So you saw Sir Broc lock the larder and leave by the stable yard door just before you came to the kitchen?”

“Yes, but he would have had nae time to attack the cook and spend any time in the larder before I came upon him.”

“Did you look in the larder?”

“Mary in Heaven, I’ve made one mistake after another this day. I didna think to. I was more interested in trying to catch the knight and question him, but he vanished from the stable yard before I could pursue him for more than a few steps.”

“’Tis more important, perhaps, to discover what he wanted in the larder.”

“How can we do that without questioning Sir Broc?”

“We start with a thorough search of the larder.”

“I could give out that I am dissatisfied with the state of cleanliness despite earlier efforts and insist the larder be cleaned again. In fact, I think I should do so for the entire building. We may have missed something during our first, more hurried search.”

Colin smiled. “That’s an excellent idea, especially if I do the same with the outbuildings. ’Twill allay suspicion that we are aware of the invasion of the larder. If they feel safe, I doubt anyone will return to cover their tracks. I will also set my men at strategic points throughout the stronghold. They will report to us all movements about our home.”

“Will that nae raise alarm among the traitors we have yet to identify?”

He thought a moment. “With the right words, many will believe that I am setting a guard on you to prevent you from attempting to murder me again.”

“If you wish to create the impression that as Brice you believe me guilty of attempted murder, I should be locked in a dungeon, and absolutely nae longer share your chamber.”

She waited, tense. Would he take the suggestion at face value, or see it for the stratagem it was to gain her some relief from temptation when her resistance was starting to fail?