Seize The Dawn (25 page)

Gregory shook his head. "I was allowed to leave for service in York, but then taken to serve with troops under Lord Hebert. By his order, I was taken out to a field to learn to use a sword, and then commanded to come to Scotland. It was a service I did not seek." He hesitated. "Lord Hebert would have butchered every man of you, had the situation been reversed."

"Don't underestimate us," Eric warned. "We have been known to slay a few men."

"That I know. I see the bodies beyond you. But it's wrong. Wrong that a king should claim a land that is not his, and wrong that we kill our neighbors time and time again so that Edward may grasp for all in sight."

Gregory came walking toward him, and lowered to a knee. "I never gave oath of fealty before. I swear now, my honor, to you, sir."

"Get up, lad,'' Brendan said.' 'We've seen it often enough— words and vows do not prove fealty. Actions do. We shall see how yours stand up. Gather the swords and mail!" He said to the others. "We'll move from the road before one of the treacherous bastards doubles back—and makes it to Hebert"

That night, they dared a campfire deep in the woods. They were protected by the river to their one side, and the protection of a steep hillside to the other. They always had an escape route planned, wherever they took shelter.

The goods from the wagon had already been divided; most of the weapons were on their way to Wallace who was meeting with John Comyn, the Red, a fierce fighter with an eye on the crown himself, though he was kin to Balliol. Comyn had never catered to the English, and he was a warrior, if perhaps, he did not have the diplomatic or tactical skills of Robert the Bruce.

Thomas de Longueville had found some beautiful silks; he meant to give some of them to the lovely little dairy maid who had been so talkative in bed.

"La!" de Longueville said happily, modeling the silk. "My round petite will be lovely in this."

There had been a barrel of apples among the goods, only slightly damaged and aged. They sat around, enjoying the sweetness of the fruit in the coldness of the night, watching de Longueville's antics.

"Ah, lovely—and dead—if she's caught wearing it by the mastiff, Lady Hebert!" Eric told de Longueville.

"Perhaps it will not be so healthy for her to remain where she is after today!" de Longueville mused. "We'll move her north, eh, Brendan? There are many cows in the highlands!"

"Well, they've suffered greatly from the Scots; the village was razed ... and many were burned to death. Alive. That's why, when the Duke of York called out for more men, it did not seem such an evil thing to be taken for training, though it was not what I would have desired."

"A call for more men!" Liam spat. "When Edward has much in his hands, now, with his truce being made with Robert the Bruce!"

"Did the man have a choice?" Eric inquired quiedy.

"Ah, Eric!" Liam said with disgust.

"Aye, now, wait," Brendan said, putting up a hand. "I've considered him the worst of turncoats myself, and, aye, he seeks the crown! But you can see the way the man was thinking; John Balliol, freed from Rome, across the channel in France. That was a fear to King Edward, and surely to Bruce as well, for if Balliol had returned—ever does return—he is the king. There was the matter of Bruce falling in love with Elizabeth de Burgh—whose father is Earl of Ulster, and one of King Edward's most staunch and loyal supporters. And then—" he said, putting a hand up again to stop the protests about to begin, "there was the matter of his family. A large family, brothers and sisters, far too close to the English king for comfort."

' 'He did put a fine fight for a few years; his army at Carrick was strong," Eric said. "A threat to the English before—a boon to them now. Mark my words, though, he is a Scotsman. He'll weary of his subservience to Edward in time."

"Aye, but if he rises, will the people rise with him?" Liam demanded.

"He'll have a lot to prove," Brendan agreed. "If he wearies of his subservience. For the moment, the English position is good."

They were all silent then, staring at the fire. Eric cleared his throat. "Where is it exactly, young master Gregory, that you come from?"

"A small but fine place, just north of York. Clarin. 'Tis a beautiful land, a valley, rich with streams—"

"Where?" Brendan demanded, tensing.

"Clarin. There's a fine stone castle, begun soon after the arrival of William of Normandy—who did not so trust the Scots himself. There's a fine mixture of people there, English, of course, but many of Scottish descent, and some who have married Flemings, and of course, some with Norse and Danish blood—"

"Because Lady Eleanor is frequently about, seeing to repairs on the walls, visiting with her tenants, the craftsmen, and all. Clarin isn't London, you know. Or even York. Yet I believe she is a far greater lady than most; she talks to her people, she visits them when they're sick, brings gifts when a child is born. You can see her eyes, though, how troubled she is, when one asks about the count."

"She is such a great lady," Brendan said, his voice still too harsh, ' 'but she sent you off to fight for the English—when it was not your choice?"

"The Duke of York sent out a call for men," Gregory explained simply. "To learn the use of arms ... it seemed a way to perhaps better my position in life."

Gregory proved to be as valuable an asset as Thomas de Longueville. Well versed in many languages, he could listen in on any conversation spoken, and with his youth, agility, and speed, he was able to slip in and out of many places—and appear innocent all the while.

On a day about three weeks after he had first come to ride with Brendan's company, he came back with news about Hebert's castle. The following Friday, the main body of Hebert's men would be moving out—ready to attack Wallace and Comyn north of the forest. The still not complete fortress would be vulnerable.

And Wallace and Comyn could be warned of the attack.

Brendan listened gravely to all he had to say, then dismissed him, musing over the conversation.

"How do you know we can trust him?" Eric asked. "How do we know it's not a trick to draw us into the fortress?"

"We watch before we leap," Brendan said simply. "We send warning right away to William and John, and then we prepare ourselves to move in once we're certain that the English have moved out."

Chapter 13

Eleanor loved Clarin. It was good to be home.

The castle was drafty, and not nearly as fine as Alain's estates just outside Paris, but there was a heritage, she thought, that was unique to their north country. Old customs with the serfs and tenants remained; ancient wiccan holidays had combined with Catholic holy days. Certain days were given to feasts, and certain days were given to rest.

Interceding when the village had been under attack had given Eleanor a relationship with the people that she cherished. She was welcomed in every home, and she was glad to visit the sick, the elderly, and those in need of help.

She had known that she would never forget Brendan, but she hadn't realized that she would be haunted by memories, day after day, and in her dreams. Riding around the estate with Alfred was something she enjoyed; looking into the fives of her people gave her pleasure. If she could not find a real happiness herself, she could at least provide it for others, giving permission for marriages, and visiting newborn babes. Life went on, and with it death, and it was sad to attend burials as well, but important, and she was very glad to keep as busy as possible.

The days were bearable.

The nights, when she lay alone, haunted her. Awake, she would pray for the dawn, sometimes see to Alain, who seemed to toss so restlessly in the adjoining room, then lie awake again.

Day. Aye, day was better.

Night was memory, a haunting that seemed to grow more grave with time.

She kept so busy when she first returned that she didn't notice how Bridie moped about. One afternoon, when she had spoken to her several times and her maid had not answered, she walked to the window where she stood, looking out at the grounds. They were alone; Alain was in the great hall with Alfred and Corbin, giving instructions to the builders and bricklayers who continued to strengthen the fortification. They were in Alain's section of the chamber; Eleanor had brought in a bouquet of the first spring flowers and set them in a vase, hoping they would cheer him, since he had not felt well since they had arrived.

"Bridie!" she said sharply.

And when her maid turned to her, her eyes betraying a wretchedness similar to that of what she was feeling, she instantly regretted her tone.

And she realized, in her own anguish, she had forgotten the nights that Bridie had slipped away, and how she had talked about her Lars.

"He has no home. They live in the forest when they are in Scotland. He told me what a great difference it was—being given such kingly treatment in Norway, France ... even Italy. But in Scotland, they keep the fight for freedom alive, and do so by harrying the border."

She was deeply grateful for the life growing within her. Relieved, even, to know that the child couldn't possibly be Alain's, and therefore, was a part of Brendan she could hold and keep forever. The babe would be her father's grandchild; Clarin would be his.

"Aye, I'm having a child," she murmured. "Bridie, I'll find a solution. I'll write—"

"How? And to whom?" Bridie asked softly.

Eleanor took her into her arms. "There are always means of communication. Even to enemy outlaws, fighting in the woods. But no one will take you from me, and no one will judge you, or ever send you from this house. I swear it."

Eleanor shook her head. "Not now. Even if I could ... leave everything else, I could not leave Alain. He isn't well. He needs me."

"But the child is Sir Brendan's," Bridie said flatly.

Eleanor was about to answer when she thought she heard movement from the adjoining room. She brought her finger to her lips, and tiptoed quickly across the room. She paused at the door that joined the two; then threw it open.

The room was empty. But she thought she heard a clicking sound, as if the door to the hall had opened and closed. She hurried to it and opened the door, looking out.