The Promise of Peace (12 page)

“Aye, but I must leave all that is familiar once again. I don't like good-byes. It seems like I am forever leaving or being left.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and one spilled down her cheek. “I don't want to go. I would stay if I could.”

He wiped away her tear with his thumb. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Here. I have something for you.”

“What?”

He reached under his tunic and grasped the ribbon that held the key to his treasure box.

She gasped when she saw it. “Why are you giving me the key? How will you open the box?”

“I left it at Moy so that you can safeguard it for me.”

“You left it behind?”

“Aye.” He'd agonized over whether or not to bring his treasures with him. The things it held were childish mementos except for the laird's ring. But he'd felt they would be safer in Nola's care than here among strangers.

She stared at him and burst out laughing.

“Why is that funny?” he demanded, hurt that she didn't appreciate his trust.

She reached into the pouch at her waist and pulled a knotted twist of wool from it. “I made this for you to keep in the box to remember me by.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I remembered mother telling us that before a tournament or battle, ladies would give their scarf or ribbon to the knight they favored. I knew that if I gave you such a thing, the other boys would tease you.” She held the knotted twine of wool out to him. “So I made this bracelet for you to put in the box where the others can't chide you over it.”

He took it, touched that she would think to do such a thing. He held it out to her and a tear escaped her left eye.

“No, Nola. I'm not giving it back. Since I left the box in your care at Moy, I want you to tie this around my wrist.”

She swiped away the tear. “You'll wear it?”

“Aye. I'm sure it will bring me luck, and I'm going to need plenty.” He swallowed hard. “And it will remind me of my ties to my family at Moy. Of you.”

Nola took the bracelet and tied it to his outstretched wrist. “Does this mean you'll wait for me?”

That made him smile. “Wait for you?”

She finished attaching the bracelet and took hold of his hand. “Aye. You said you would take me on an adventure, and I mean to hold you to it.”

“I may not be able to fulfill that promise, Nola. What then?”

“In that case, I suppose I may have to create my own adventure. I know I am only twelve, Keifer, and that we both will change by the time your training is over. I can't promise my heart, nor will I ask you to. But could we at least promise not to marry anyone else until we've spoken to each other again?”

She sounded much older and wiser than her years, and as always, her heart shone in her eyes. This child would be a woman and he a man grown when next they met. He feared they would change, affections going elsewhere. But he could not tell her so now, for he could not bear to break her tender heart.

“You know of my pledge not to marry, Nola. I cannot ask you to wait for me.”

“You may change your mind.”

He shook his head.

“If you do, then remember this promise.”

“All right. That promise I can make. I promise not to give my heart to another until I speak again with you. Are you satisfied?”

She nodded. “I better go. Da will be waiting.”

“I'll walk with you, but this must be our good-bye. I don't want . . .”

He drew in a breath to steady his voice. A man training to be a knight did not cry.

“I know. I absolutely do not want to cry in front of my father!”

He pulled her close and, without a second thought, pressed his lips to her upturned face. But a buss on the cheek didn't satisfy, and he moved to kiss her lips. He'd never kissed a girl before, and he delighted in the soft way her lips yielded, molded, to his mouth.

She put her arms around his neck and clung tightly. She hadn't done that the time he'd caught her kissing Will Macpherson. Aye, this kiss was not the kiss of a friend, and Keifer was honor bound to end it before they promised too much to each other.

He pulled away and looked down into her face. Her eyes seemed a bit unfocused and he grinned, amused that he'd had such an effect on her. But he reminded himself she was an untried girl who might read too much into the kiss. It was time to part. “You are a minx, Nola Mackintosh.” His smile faded. “And I shall miss you terribly.”

“And I you.”

“Come. We've sealed our vow and said our good-bye with a proper kiss. I don't want your father to come looking for us.”

They walked out of the stable and across the bailey to where her father stood with their horses. Keifer and Nola didn't dare look at each other.

“There you are, Nola. We were getting concerned.” But Keifer could tell from his foster father's face that he understood and was not angry.

Adam grasped Keifer's hand. “We will expect to hear good reports about you, Son.”

Keifer, not sure he could trust his voice, nodded. Adam turned to mount, leaving Keifer to assist Nola. He walked over to her and expected her to face the animal so Keifer could help her. Instead she leaped toward him, throwing herself into his arms. He pulled her close and buried his face in her untamable hair. Before he set her down, he said, “Off with you now. Don't ever change, wild one.”

With a determined nod of her head so familiar and dear, she drew a deep breath. He cupped his hands together and offered them for her to place her foot in them. She did so, and with a lift from him, swung her leg over the horse. He arranged her riding skirt to cover her leg while she settled her feet into the stirrups and tugged the other side of the skirt into place.

Reluctantly he removed his hand from her calf and watched her gather the reins in her gloved hands. Amid the calling of good-byes from Sir Bryan and his family, Nola and her father set off. With a final wave, they trotted out the gate.

Keifer wondered if he would ever smile again. Abandoned over and over again—Da, Gordon, Morrigan, his mother, Ceallach. It didn't matter that he had wanted this. Heart ruled over head in this matter. And it didn't matter that Nola left unwillingly. Their forced separation seemed the cruelest blow of all.

Macpherson Castle at Inversie 1323

NOLA OPENED THE SHUTTERS on the nursery's only window and stared out at the bright, sunny day. She held Mary Macpherson in her arms, and though she loved the child dearly, Nola would have much rather been outdoors. She spent a good deal of her time in this room at Inversie, not only because Suisan asked her to, but also because Will didn't frequent the place.

Mary squirmed and Nola set her down. The little girl toddled off to her box of playthings.

The door opened and Suisan came into the room. She cast an approving eye around the tidy room and at her happy child. “You are a godsend, Nola. I don't know what I'd have done these last two years without you to help with Mary.”

“I've enjoyed it, Lady Suisan.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, most of it.”

“When Mary goes down for her nap, come to the solar and we'll have your harp lesson.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Nola played with Mary until the child became cranky, and then they sat in the rocking chair until the little one fell asleep. Nola rocked a while longer and looked upon the angelic face. Despite her longing for travel and adventure, something about the feel of a child in her arms let her know that she would enjoy being a mother some day.

Nola laid the sleeping toddler in her bed and pulled a soft blanket over the swaddled form. Then Nola went into the solar where Suisan kept her harp. The rosewood gleamed in a beam of sunlight that shone through the narrow window of the west wall.

Suisan sat behind the harp and ran her fingers across the strings, adjusting them as needed to ensure all were in tune. When she was satisfied, she played a slow, haunting melody. Nola loved to listen to the older woman play. Lady Suisan's face transformed as the music settled over them, as if it soothed her weariness.

When she finished, she rose and indicated that Nola should take her place.

Nola did so, settling her skirts. “I don't think I will ever coax such beautiful music from this instrument, my lady.”

“You may, in time.”

But Nola doubted it, almost hoped that she would never play music that spoke so eloquently of loss and longing. She wondered what made the lady so sad and dared to probe. “Mother says you were to marry my da, but you changed your mind.”

“Aye. And though I regret the callow girl I was who deserted Adam when he needed me, still, I have found love with William and I am content.”

“Have you ever left the glen?”

“Never.”

“Did you ever want to?”

Suisan pondered for a moment. “Perhaps long ago. But as I said, I am content with my life as it is.”

Nola thought of her own longing to see what the outside world had to offer. She doubted she could be content like Suisan if her dream never came true. Nola was more determined than ever to travel before she settled down to marriage and babies. Not that there was anything wrong with marriage and children, she just wanted something grand to look back on.

Nola played the harp, choosing lively music that spoke of nuances and texture and excitement. For that is how she planned to spend her own life.

IN THE DAYS AFTER KEIFER ARRIVED at Homelea, he had little time to miss Nola, despite the reminder of her “favor” on his wrist. Though he doubted that Uncle Angus still harbored ill will toward him, Morrigan had insisted that Keifer use his mother's family name of MacTaggert. So that is how he introduced himself to the only other boy who was to train with Keifer. Donel was a tall, sullen young man with dull blond hair who kept to himself unless he was playing a practical joke.

For the next two years Keifer's days began before sunrise with feeding and grooming his horse. After chapel and breaking his fast, he learned how to ride a war horse. Seamus could not have taught him this because there were no such large animals at Moy. The beasts required quantities of grain and hay that were not readily available in the highlands.

Sir Bryan was certainly a wealthy man, for he had three such horses. Two were used for schooling the squires. The third was the knight's personal war horse, trained to allow only Bryan to mount it.

The beast was magnificent—the son of the horse Bryan had ridden when he conquered Homelea and married its mistress.

Keifer had mixed feelings about the beasts. He'd long heard the story of his father's death from a fall from his horse. And though his grandfather had worked with him at Inverlochy, Keifer still feared the animals' power and strength. But Sir Bryan taught him to harness his fear, to respect the strength, and to direct the power in appropriate response to specific cues.

“You must understand how a horse's mind works, what their natural insincts are. Then you can use those natural tendencies to your advantage,” the knight explained.

Sir Bryan demonstrated what he wanted the boys to learn by riding his horse in a fenced ring. As he showed them the horse's movement, he told them how to apply leg pressure and shift their weight in the saddle. Then Keifer and Donel would attempt the same manuevers, to varying degrees of success.

“Even if you never own a destrier such as these, you can train whatever horse you ride to respond to you without hesitation. Your horse's willingness and abilty to do so can mean the difference between success and failure in a fight with other mounted men.”

Bryan related the story of their own King Robert who, while mounted on a small, well trained garron, had bested an English knight on a much larger destrier. The knight had couched his lance and raced toward the king and his smaller horse. Bruce's mount had remained steady until given the command to swerve. At just the right moment, Bruce stood in the stirrups and brought his ax down on the man's head, ending the encounter and the knight's life.

Horsemanship was not Keifer's strong point, but hearing stories such as this let him know he must master his fears, and so he applied himself. In time he came to enjoy working with the horses, and it showed. Indeed, Keifer became so proficient that Sir Bryan surprised him one day.

“Keifer, give your mount to Donel and come here.”

Keifer handed the reins to the other squire and walked to where Sir Bryan and his great destrier stood. The horse shook its head at Keifer's approach, jingling the bit and looking as if it disagreed with whatever the man had in mind.

Sir Bryan said, “You've mastered the lesser horses, let's see what you can do with Shadow.”

Keifer drew back. “But he will let only you mount him. He'll throw me.”

“Aye, he would if you approached him without me near. But if I hold his head and give him permission, he will allow you to get on and will obey you.”

Keifer eyed the big horse and his stomach clenched. He fought his apprehension.

“Go on, you'll be fine.”

With that assurance, Keifer determined to trust Sir Bryan's confidence in him. He fixed the stirrup leathers to the proper length, took the reins, and climbed aboard. The war saddle cradled him with its high front and rear, designed to hold a man in the seat during battle.

“Are your stirrups all right?”

He flexed his legs, standing in the stirrups to ensure they were even. “Aye, sir.”

“Then take him for a walk around the arena.” Sir Bryan let go of the bridle.

Anticipating an explosion of action, Keifer clung to the pommel of the saddle. The great stallion stood deceptively docile, shifting its weight, obviously waiting for Keifer to let go of his death grip and signal it to move out.

“Go ahead,” Sir Bryan said. “Take him around the ring and make him respond to some simple commands.”

Keifer urged the horse into a walk, gaining confidence as the bit made contact with the horse's mouth and the beast obeyed the cues.