Love Above All (18 page)

“There isn’t time for this,” Quentin said
between clenched teeth.

“I don’t care where you are expected within
the hour,” Janet said, lifting her chin in challenge. “I will leave
Abercorn when I am ready, and not a moment before.”

“That’s it!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “I’ve heard
enough.”

Cadwallon marched into the reception room,
moving Mother Hroswitha aside to get to Janet. Before Janet could
move out of his way, Cadwallon grabbed her by an arm and a leg and
slung her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” Janet shrieked.

“Let’s go,” Cadwallon said to Quentin. “I
assume you have no objection to such unceremonious treatment of a
recalcitrant lady?”

“No objection whatsoever,” Quentin responded
with a smile to match Cadwallon’s grin. “I only wish I had thought
of it, myself.”

“This is a vicious, unwarranted assault!”
Mother Hroswitha declared, stepping in front of Cadwallon to block
his way to the door.

“As Lord Quentin has said, it’s by the king’s
order,” Cadwallon told her. “If you doubt us, read that second
parchment.”

“Oh, dear.” Mother Hroswitha was beginning to
look a bit uncertain, as if she was starting to believe the claims
to royal authority. “What shall I tell Janet’s brother when he
comes for her?”

“Tell Murdoch to speak to King Alexander
about his sister,” Quentin said. “Better yet, tell him to take to
the highlands and stay there.”

“Let me go!” Janet screamed, pounding her
free fist against Cadwallon’s back. He laughed and brushed past
Mother Hroswitha to stalk out of the abbey’s main door as if the
burden he carried weighed nothing at all.

“Come on, Cousin Ursula,” Quentin said. He
took Fionna’s arm in a firm grip. “It’s past time we were
leaving.”

“Mother Hroswitha,” Fionna said, digging in
her heels to prevent Quentin from dragging her out of the reception
room, “I am sorry about the uproar we caused, but it couldn’t be
helped. Janet always was one to argue and quibble before making a
decision.”

“Indeed,” said the abbess. She followed them
into the entry hall, but made no attempt to stop them from leaving.
“I will tell Lord Murdoch so when he asks for his sister.” With
that, she slammed the front door shut just as Quentin dragged
Fionna out of the abbey.

“Quentin, there is something you must know at
once,” Fionna said, pulling him to a stop when he would have rushed
to their horses. “The ship we noticed in the firth is putting a man
ashore just below the abbey. I saw the rowboat through the
reception room window.”

“And you are guessing the man is Colum?”
Quentin said. “Well, perhaps you were correct to expect his arrival
when you first saw that ship.”

“What’s more, according to Mother Abbess,
Murdoch is due at the abbey tomorrow, to take Janet to her
wedding,” she revealed. “Unless he comes earlier.”

“All the more reason for us to be gone from
here at once.”

Together they made for their horses, but
Quentin paused to look at Cadwallon, who sat his mount with Janet
laid face-down in front of the saddle. She was still kicking and
yelling. Cadwallon held the reins of the spare horse.

“Doesn’t the lady know how to ride?” Quentin
called, laughing.

“I’m sure she does,” Cadwallon answered with
a broad grin, “but she threatened to escape if I gave her a horse
of her own. I’ll carry her this way for a while, and tie her up
later.”

That remark brought another offended screech
from Janet. In response Cadwallon slapped her across her
well-rounded bottom.

“Don’t hurt her!” Fionna cried, torn between
relief to have Janet out of Abercorn and concern for her frightened
sister.

“What? Me, harm a lady? Ah, Fionna, surely
you know me better than that!” Cadwallon spoke to his mount and
rode away from the abbey laughing, while Janet continued to kick
and to yell dire imprecations at him.

“Stop him,” Fionna begged of Quentin.

“I’d say he has the lady well in hand. The
sooner we are gone from here, the better. The explanations your
sister wants can wait until we are well away from any spot where we
could possibly meet Janet’s bridegroom, or your brothers.”

“I’ll not argue the point.” Fionna let him
boost her into the saddle. She set off after Cadwallon before
Quentin was mounted.

“He won’t hurt her,” Quentin said when he
caught up with her.

“Janet would have left peacefully, if only
you had given me a while longer to convince her,” Fionna
snapped.

“I doubt it. My brief acquaintance with your
sister suggests she is every bit as spirited as you. I think she’d
have stayed there, arguing, until Murdoch arrived. So would Mother
Hroswitha have argued. Between them, the delay they created could
have involved us in a battle to rescue both of you. I have no
desire to terrify defenseless nuns. I’ve even less taste for
shedding blood on sacred ground. Given the circumstances, Cadwallon
did what he had to do.”

“I suppose you are right,” Fionna said,
conceding the argument. “But I’m not sure Janet will ever forgive
Cadwallon.”

Royce was waiting for them just inside the
forest, where he had chosen a concealed position that still allowed
him a full view of the abbey. He nodded to Quentin and Fionna as
they rode up, then turned his attention to Cadwallon and the
protesting lady slung over the horse’s neck. He regarded the pair
with open amusement.

“My lady Janet,” Royce said, bowing in the
saddle, “what a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Make this devil release me at once!” Janet
shouted at him.

“Shall I assume from your undignified
position that you left Abercorn unwillingly?” Royce asked.

“She persisted in using delaying tactics, so
I decided to put her over my shoulder,” Cadwallon answered for
Janet.

“In that case, my lady,” Royce said to her,
“before Cadwallon sets you down, I will have your word of honor
that you won’t run back to the abbey until we have a chance to
explain why we rescued you.”

“She already knows why,” Fionna said. “She
just wants to argue the matter for a time.”

Janet wasn’t paying attention to her sister.
Upon hearing Royce’s words she had abruptly stopped yelling and
kicking. Now, with one hand clutching Cadwallon’s chainmail-covered
knee, she levered herself upward until she could see Royce’s
face.

“Are you saying,” Janet asked him, “that you
would trust the word of a mere woman?”

“Why not?” Royce responded with his most
charming smile. “I have often trusted women, and have seldom been
disappointed.”

At that moment Cadwallon shifted in the
saddle and Janet’s hand slipped off his knee. With nothing to hold
on to, she fell downward again, so her face was once more pressed
against the horse’s side. Her next words were therefore somewhat
muffled.

“I give you my word,” Janet said, “that I
will listen to what you and my sister have to say. Just get me off
this cursed horse!”

“Put her down, Cadwallon,” Royce ordered.

Cadwallon caught Janet by the armpits, lifted
her till she was almost upright, and then slowly lowered her to the
ground. At once Cadwallon dismounted, tossing the reins of both his
horse and the spare horse to a nearby squire.

Janet stood for a moment as if trying to find
her balance. Cadwallon took a step toward her, reaching out a hand
to catch her elbow and steady her.

Without warning Janet spun around and landed
a solid punch to Cadwallon’s midriff.

“Ah!” Cadwallon doubled over as if he was
hurt. He straightened at once, grinning at the enraged girl. “Is
this the way you treat an honest knight who’s trying to save
you?”

“Honest?” Janet yelled. She clenched her fist
in preparation for landing another blow. “You brute!”

“Janet, you gave your word to listen,” Royce
admonished her. Mounted as he still was, he spoke from well above
Janet’s head, so she was forced to crane her neck and look upward
in order to see him.

“I gave my word to you,” Janet said,
unabashed by the criticism, “not to him!”

“Good God,” Quentin muttered. “Is this
unpleasant wench worth the risk of all our lives?”

“Yes!” Fionna exclaimed. “She is. You don’t
know her, Quentin. She’s frightened – by you and Cadwallon, I might
add. Janet always resorts to argument when she’s afraid.”

“I am not afraid!” Janet yelled, turning on
her sister. “I am angry. I have been manhandled. You have no reason
to mistreat me so!”

“Shall we send you back to the abbey, you
horrid little creature?” Quentin demanded.

“Here, now,” Cadwallon protested to his
friend, turning his head so Janet couldn’t see the way he winked at
Quentin. “That’s no way to speak to a defenseless lady.”

“I am not defenseless!” Janet whirled on
Cadwallon with raised fists. He just laughed at her and put up his
hands to fend her off.

Whatever Janet intended to say or do next was
interrupted by the arrival of Royce’s man-at-arms, Sir William, who
carried a man slung face-down before his saddle.

“Aha!” Janet exclaimed, catching sight of the
pair. “I see this is the way you routinely transport your
prisoners.”

“Janet, my dear,” Fionna cried, “you are not
a prisoner.” She had dismounted during Janet’s altercation with
Cadwallon and now she went to her sister, to embrace and reassure
her. But Janet saw her coming and stepped backward until she
collided with Cadwallon’s solid form.

“My lady, we mean you no harm, and if you
continue to pummel me, you will injure your hand,” Cadwallon said
in a remarkably mild voice, considering Janet’s belligerent
attitude toward him. He looked a bit regretful when Janet quickly
moved away from him.

“I know this man,” Janet said to Royce. She
pointed to the fellow whom Sir William had just placed on his feet.
“His name is Gwion. He’s not right in his head, but he’s harmless.
Out of Christian charity Mother Hroswitha lets him live at the
abbey. He earns his keep by cleaning the church and chopping
firewood.”

“He also carries messages,” said Sir William.
“I caught him sneaking away into the forest. He had this hidden in
his tunic.” Sir William handed a folded parchment to Royce.

“Do you know what this says?” Royce asked of
Gwion.

“Nay, laird. I canna read a word,” said Gwion
in an accent so thick that Royce and Quentin frowned while trying
to understand him.

“Where were you taking this?” Royce asked,
holding up the parchment.

“I can guess,” said Fionna. “That’s what the
abbess was doing while she kept me waiting so long to see Janet.
I’ll wager that letter contains a word of thanks for a beautiful
silver cup,” she added in a sour voice.

“Mother Hroswitha sent me to Laird Murdoch,”
Gwion answered Royce’s question. “Ye ken ‘tis aboot the twa lasses
there, and ‘tis verra urgent. I’m to take it at once, wi’ no
delays.”

“I see.” Royce opened the many folds of the
parchment. “It’s so badly written I can scarcely read it.”

“Oh, aye,” Gwion agreed, nodding. “‘Twas
written in haste, ye ken. I must take it at once,” he repeated.

“You won’t get anything more out of him,”
Janet explained to Royce. “Gwion is capable of performing the same
simple tasks day after day and he does them rather well, but he has
trouble remembering anything out of the ordinary. I’m sure Mother
Hroswitha told him nothing more than what he has said, that he’s to
deliver the letter to Murdoch.”

“Thank you for the information, Janet. What
you’ve just revealed tells me that Gwion has delivered similar
missives to your brother in the past.”

“Then I was right about a connection between
Abercorn and Dungalash,” Fionna said.

“Just so.” Royce leaned forward in his saddle
and spoke slowly and distinctly. “Gwion, I will deliver this to
Laird Murdoch. Do you understand?”

“Oh, aye.” Gwion looked up at him and smiled.
“Gwion willna’ have to walk in the forest in the dark, wi’ the wild
beasties.”

“That’s right,” Royce said, smiling back at
him. “You may return to Abercorn in the daylight.”

“Ye won’t lose it? Ye’ll be careful?” Gwion
looked anxiously at Royce. “Mother Hroswitha said ‘tis most urgent.
I’m to put it into Laird Murdoch’s hands.” He said this as if
reciting a lesson to be sure he had learned it correctly.

“I will not lose it,” Royce said. “I promise
you once more, Gwion, I will deliver the message to Laird
Murdoch.”

“Thank ye kindly, good laird. Oh, aye, thank
ye kindly. Now Gwion can go home before dark. Aye, that he
can.”

The men gathered around Royce and his friends
moved aside at Royce’s signal, opening a path for Gwion. He set off
for the abbey, walking slowly down the little hill.

“You lied to him,” Janet accused Royce. “You
took advantage of his ignorance. You have no intention of
delivering that letter to Murdoch.”

“I did not lie, my lady,” Royce told her. “I
promised to deliver the
message,
and so I will. As for the
letter, you may have it. Reading it may do you some good, for it
explains why Cadwallon was in such rough haste to get you away from
Abercorn.” He handed the parchment to Janet.

“From the look on your face,” Quentin said to
Royce, “I gather we ought to move out at once.”

“Does the note mention Carlisle?” Fionna
asked. “I did tell Mother Hroswitha I was expected there, when I
needed an excuse for why I couldn’t wait for Janet’s wedding, but
needed to see her at once, today.”

“As a matter of fact, the abbess did warn
Murdoch of Lady Ursula’s intention to travel to Carlisle,” Royce
said.

“Then, we’ll have to change our return
route,” Fionna said.

“Why should we?” asked Quentin. “Murdoch
isn’t going to receive Mother Hroswitha’s letter. He’ll arrive at
Abercorn expecting to take his sister away as planned.”