Knight's Blood (16 page)

Authors: Julianne Lee

Tags: #Kidnapping, #Science Fiction, #Fantasy fiction, #Married people, #Scotland, #General, #Fantasy, #Children - Crimes against, #Fighter pilots, #Fiction, #Time travel

BOOK: Knight's Blood

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Alex looked over at Trefor, who had a sour look on his face, sucking on the inside of his lower lip as if it were a lemon and the taste was making him squint. They both knew what James suggested meant giving up on finding Lindsay. What Trefor didn’t understand was that James hadn’t made so much a request as a demand. If Alex were to decline, however gracefully, it could—and by James most likely would—be construed as waffling in support of the king. A dodgy thing under the most forgiving of circumstances, and this was not such a circumstance. James’ own support of his friend and mentor Robert was absolute. It was widely known that he considered anything less in other men tantamount to treason. Alex was now stuck in a position of incurring the ire of the second most powerful man in Scotland if he stuck to his search for his wife. He gave a slight frown in Trefor’s direction, then addressed James with a nod and a grin.

“That sounds like a fine plan, friend. Exactly what I’d hoped for. When do we depart Edinburgh?” He hoped it would be a while, for if Nemed were to show himself in the meantime, Alex could send his men on with James while he took care of business and caught up later. But he was disappointed.

“Tomorrow,” said James. “The town is empty of uncommitted fighting men these days, all of them having dispersed to wars elsewhere, and so we’ll ride to Stirling to rejoin my army encamped there, and gather whatever men can be spared in the town. That castle has been razed as fully as the one here, and so there’s no need for a garrison.”

“A fine plan indeed.” Alex’s heart sank, and the disapproval from Trevor made him annoyed at everyone present. He told himself he had no assurance Nemed would ever show himself while his men were camped outside Edinburgh, and so leaving with James would not affect their chances of ever finding Lindsay. Trefor obviously thought otherwise, but Alex had to shrug that off. They were to go with James’ company, and that would be that.

The knights ate, drank, and talked late into the night, the conversation wandering this way and that from raid and droving strategies to the prospects of livestock to be found this time of year, to the women also to be found among the Marches who might be welcoming. Or at least vulnerable. Each had a tale to tell of conquest, of beauties who swooned for such champions of prowess and strength as the men gathered around this table plainly were. It was in the very small hours that the well-met company of knights finally moved to their rooms in the back to sleep off the gallons of mead they’d consumed.

Trefor had spent the evening in silence, sulking at Alex’s decision to suspend the quest for Lindsay. Mike had said nothing, for he didn’t speak Middle English and hadn’t understood anything said that evening. But as they stripped themselves of chain mail before the peat coals in their bedchamber, readying to sleep, Trefor’s friend muttered half to himself, “I didn’t come here to be jerked around. This is bullshit.”

Hector didn’t understand modern English, but Mike’s petulant tone was obvious, and the Laird of Barra paused in removing his hauberk, looked to Alex, then to Mike again, in surprise that An Dubhar would tolerate such insolence from an inferior.

Alex, having removed his own hauberk, said without a glance at anyone else as he shook out the mail with great care and folded the metal garment to set it on the floor by the bed, “Trefor, tell your friend to shut the fuck up. I don’t know what you told him to get him to come with you, or what he thinks being a knight is all about, but you can inform him now that he’s attached himself to a military contingent and from here on out he’s to obey orders and understand there is a hierarchy and chain of command he will respect. He will deport himself as a soldier, he will obey his superiors, he will
not
mutter to himself and whine and complain like a chickenshit little brat”—Alex now turned to thrust his face into Mike’s and back him against the wall by the door—“
or I will have him hung from the nearest fucking tree and leave his rotting carcass for the buzzards to pick into little . . . bitty . . . pieces
.”

Mike was wide-eyed and cringing against the wall, staring at Alex, whose voice was hard and his eyes aflame. An Dubhar’s rage was a palpable thing in the room, and the other three men kept a careful silence, waiting for what would happen next, not entirely certain Alex wouldn’t do damage to Mike to show him who was boss.

Alex allowed a moment for that to sink in, then said, “Am I coming in loud and clear, soldier?”

Trefor’s friend didn’t seem certain he was expected to reply to that, but Alex waited. Finally Mike said, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. We will allow you to ride with us, and we won’t hang you from the nearest tree and leave you for the buzzards. Today.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex turned to sit on the bed and remove his boots and trews. He would leave on the rest of his clothing for warmth, but the trews had feet in them and in the cold the sweat would chill his feet. So he hung the trews to dry from a nail he found in the wall near the hearth, and set his boots on the floor also to dry. His linens were due for an airing, but he would do that once they were on the road with James’ army and he could hang them in the sunshine.

Trefor said, “We can’t leave with Douglas.”

“We have to.”

Hector got into the bed, still not understanding the conversation but watching the exchange for behavior clues.

“What happened to the search? Giving up already? You said you wanted to find my mother.”

Alex’s blood curdled at those words. Trefor’s mother. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “We have no choice. James has requested our support. He’s an earl. Not just an earl, but Robert’s favorite. That guy outranks pretty much everyone in the country right now, and he’s not the happy-go-lucky sort he appears. Dude’s the poster child for OCD when it comes to kicking English butt. Cross him, and you take your life into your hands.”

“You don’t think he would understand if you told him you were looking for your wife?”

Alex snorted. “No. He wouldn’t even begin to understand. Not even if I made up a convincing story that left out the faeries and elves. Not even if I laid out my heart and told him I just can’t live without my wife, oh-woe-is-me. If I did that, he’d laugh himself sick and then call me a coward. Or worse, a traitor. Throwing over support for the king for the sake of a woman, even a wife, just doesn’t compute for these guys.”

Trefor began to wriggle out of his hauberk. Mike was still sulking by the fire. “Aren’t they married, too? Isn’t Douglas married?”

“Yeah.”

“And he doesn’t give a damn about his wife?” Trefor’s voice was thick with disgust.

“No. Not the least bit.”

“Why’d he marry her?”

“Money. Status. An heir. That’s the norm here. They all think I’m a schmuck because I married a woman who brought me neither money nor status.”

An edge came to Trefor’s voice. “Nor an heir.”

Alex threw him a cross look, then turned and slipped under the blankets on the narrow bed next to Hector. Without another word he blew out the single candle on the table next to the bed and lay back on the straw mattress. Hector was taking more than his share of it, so Alex nudged him over and made him give way. The Laird of Barra complied with a grunt. Trefor and Mike wrapped themselves in their plaids and lay on the floor near the fire.

Alex noted they lay as far apart as possible without moving too far from the hearth. They would get over that before long, he knew. He’d learned long ago that the warmth from another body trumped any discomfort of having to sleep next to another man. In fact, men were better than women for that, for they gave off more heat. He backed against Hector and knew he would be more comfortable when he awoke than Trefor and Mike would be over by the dying fire.

In the darkness, Alex said, “We’re going to join Douglas, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. If you can’t follow orders and behave like a knight, then you can take your men, go your own way, and stay the hell away from my castle. But if you do that, be advised that the next time I see you I’ll kill you. Break your allegiance to me, and I’ll hang you as a traitor. Am I clear?”

There was a pause, then Trefor said, “Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.”

Once the silence had come over the room like a woolen blanket, Hector said to Alex in Gaelic, “Has all been settled, then?”

Alex replied, “Aye.” Then he rolled over to sleep.

The next day Alex, Trefor, and their knights set out for Stirling, not terribly far from Edinburgh, to meet up with James’ army. It was this sort of travel that Alex found so frustrating when he compared this century to his life in the future. The steady walk of a horse felt like a snail’s pace because Alex knew this entire day’s ride would one day be possible to accomplish in seconds. They plodded along for hours on end, not even going to a trot. Alex was bored stiff, and impatient.

Trefor and Mike were chatting to the rear of Alex, just at the front of the column of knights, too far back for Alex to hear what they were saying. They all knew Alex was the only man present who would have understood the language everyone except Hector thought was Hungarian, had he been able to hear. Alex didn’t much like the fact that they were talking, let alone that they were talking out of earshot. He fell back, even with them, and they fell silent.

Not good. He made like he wanted to converse with Trefor. “Hey, Beavis,” he said to Mike. “Beat it.” He nodded toward the front to indicate Mike should spur his horse and hang with Hector. Mike gave a sullen stare but obeyed, and Alex then addressed Trefor.

“What’s the deal with you and the faeries?”

Trefor looked toward the front and not at Alex. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you know that Edinburgh castle is built on what you call a ‘thin place’? And what was that thing with the weather a while back?”

Trefor shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Like hell.”

Alex’s son chuckled. “If you say so.”

“You said the faeries took you and left you until a year ago. What happened a year ago?”

“They came and got me.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. They just came and told me who I am. Who my parents are. They told me how you took off for Scotland the instant I was born and left me with them to raise.”

“I did what?”

“You deny it, and yet here you are.”

“I came to find you.”

“Like you came here to find Mom.”

“I will find Lindsay.”

“Someday, maybe. Meanwhile, she’s God knows where, and I got left in the future, stuck in the Tennessee foster care system. A fate worse than death, I assure you.”

“Don’t be melodramatic.”

“Do it yourself sometime, and see what you think. Until then, let me tell it how I saw it. It was a fucking nightmare. I got out when I turned eighteen, and took Mike with me even though he still had a few months before he would be old enough to go. Nobody ever came looking for him.”

Alex glanced at Mike. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Fuck you.” Trefor looked at him sideways with an angry glance that made Alex think of Lindsay. Alex looked away, for it was too terrible to see her in him. Bad enough to have to deal with the green eyes that were undeniably his own, but the glimpses of Trefor’s mother cut to Alex’s heart.

“So what did the wee folk tell you when they came to you a year ago?”

“They told me all about how you had never wanted to leave the Middle Ages because you were all hot to become the Earl of East Jesus Deserted Island or somesuch—”

“Lonely island.”

“Huh?”

“Eilean Aonarach means ‘lonely island’ in Gaelic.”

“Yeah, I know. Whatever. They said you thought you were on your way to the peerage and I was an obstacle.”

“So I told them to come get you so I could go back to the past?”

“So you said nothing and just went.”

“And your mother?”

“You were following her.”