Beneath a Dark Highland Sky: Book #3 (4 page)

King James smiled. “In the future, ye will be a vera great man, a man who will lead his clan into battle and who will be a great fighter for Scotland. Ye’ll battle the Sassenach and help us defeat them! Like a king, ye will learn nae to be afraid of yer future. A great fighter, like a king, must nae fear. And today I will do something to help assure yer future. For yer vision of the battle of Arkinholm and foretelling my victory over the whoreson Black Douglas, I will reward ye. First, I give ye my jeweled dirk. Keep it well and dunna be afraid to use it, for ‘tis a king’s dirk.” He removed it from his belt and handed it to Malcolm. “It has ne’er failed me.”

“Yer Grace, it is far too rich a gift for me….”

“Take it, lad. I want ye to ha’e it. ‘Tis a special blade, for with it I drained the life from William Earl of Douglas.”

Malcolm admired the fine craftsmanship of the weapon with a sort of horror, for it had taken a man’s life. Probably many men’s lives, for James the Second was fond of battle and war, his temper easily provoked.

“A great man needs a powerful blade when he rides across Scotland, for enemies, like the accursed wind and rain, are always and forever at his back. Indeed, sometimes it seems there are as many enemies as there are drops of rain, especially when yer a king. And then there are the Sassenach, always with their greedy fingers digging in Scotland’s pie.”

“I thank ye, yer Grace, for such a valuable and powerful gift and I will keep it well.”

              Through the large windows Malcolm could see fat rain clouds low in the sky. He studied the king’s determined face in the gauzy shadows of the half-darkened room.

“That is nae all, Malcolm,” James said. ‘I have recently declared many Douglas lands forfeit and annexed them to the crown. Do ye ken what that means?”

Malcolm shook his head.

“It means I will need strong men to manage my lands. To keep the enemy from rising up again. I am giving ye some of that land…and I see a wife in yer future!”

Malcolm almost dropped the fierce, jeweled blade he held in his hand to the richly carpeted floor. ‘Twas a red and gold carpet, for there were no plain rushes on the floor of a king’s apartment. “A…
wife
?”

“Dunna fash yerself, lad. When ye come of age, years from now, ye will ha’e this land and ye will marry a Douglas girl with the promise of beauty. She is the daughter of Murry Douglas, slain at Arkinholm. I ha’e confiscated the Douglas estates and destroyed a good many of them. But this estate has a good strategic position and so I willna tear it down. It will be yers one day. In the meantime, the border families who ha’e supported me will keep the surviving Douglases in check. Ye ken there is more than one way to bring an enemy to heel. The Douglas clan will ne’er again challenge the crown, nae on my watch. Scotland must forever be united behind its king. I ha’e made it so. I ha’e done what my father couldna.” He sighed. “Alas, a king’s work is ne’er done and I must continue to safeguard my gains.”

“Thank ye, yer Grace.” Malcolm frowned. “Forgive me, yer Grace, but marrying a Douglas lass, a
Lowlander
, is that more a
punishment
than a reward?”

Fortunately, the king was not insulted by Malcolm’s words. He tipped back his head and roared with laughter, his whole face shaking and his red birthmark seeming to dance.

              “I like ye, Malcolm Maclean. I like ye heartily. Now, let us eat and drink. We will ha’e no more talk of the future, for today we ha’e sealed it. Let us celebrate the present!”

4

Thirteen Years Later

Late Spring, 1468

“Do ye think it wise, my lady? ‘Tis a dangerous game we will play, with a vera dangerous man.”

Sorcha Douglas looked at her maid servant, admiring one of her finest gowns on the girl’s trim figure. Nessa wore Sorcha’s white silk gown trimmed with gold braid, with a long tight bodice and sleeves with a trailing edge. Shiny pearls were entwined in her golden hair, which trailed down her back in a braid.

“Ye make a fine lady, Nessa, but do stop twisting yer hands so. Remember, dunna fidget in front of the Highlander. Ye’ll appear as nervous as a cat in the presence of a starving hound.”

“I
am
nervous!” Nessa said, but she managed to stop fidgeting. “What are ye thinking, Sorcha?” she asked.

“I’d like to take a warming pan to the man’s head!”

Nessa clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

Sorcha frowned. “Like ye, I can ne’er forget King James the Second declared our land forfeit after we were defeated at Arkinholm. ‘Twas a harsh spring neither of us wants to remember.

“King James gave our land and our keep to a Highlander to inherit when he came of age and set close watch upon us all through the years, waiting for that day to arrive. And now it is almost here. If only my Da and aulder brothers had lived. And my Mum…I miss her so but I canna speak of that now. I ha’e feared the Highlander’s coming since that time, when I was nearly five summers. I e’en hoped foolishly the Highlander would defy a king’s order and ne’er come. He could’ve arrived two years ago but he waited, and for whate’er reasons, I am glad to ha’e had that time. I am seventeen summers now and more mature and level-headed than I used to be. Now I ken I dunna ha’e to meekly accept my fate.”

She frowned. “I
hate
the Highlander e’en though I ha’e yet to meet him. As a child, Nessa, I had to lose myself in learning to manage the keep after everyone was gone. I couldna bear to think of this place without my Mum or Da, without Gordon and Tavish. I threw myself into sword practice with the lads in the courtyard. I learned archery from Kendrew himself, a vera skilled chief huntsman as ye ken. No one would dare tell me after losing so many members of my family that as a lass I couldna do those things, that it wasna ladylike. But many a dark night, lying in bed, I would think about the day to come when I was older and would ha’e to marry the Highlander, a Maclean, and simply hand o’er e’erything I worked so hard to maintain in my family’s name! It is nae in my nature to do so, regardless of what a king wills. I am stubborn and proud like my Da was.”

“E’en ye, with yer fierce temper and pride, canna defy a king’s order without consequence,” Nessa said. “Ye ken that e’en though James the Second is eight years dead, James the Third honors his Da’s decrees. Ye ken after Arkinholm, the Parliament of Scotland declared Douglas lands forfeit and permanently annexed to the crown,
ne’er
to be undone.”

“Yea, I ken,” Sorcha said. “He has so
graciously
let us live on it since then, the Black Douglas bound by the whims of the border families whose fortunes rose when ours was destroyed, waiting for the Highlander to arrive and claim it and his bride. We had English help at the battle of Arkinholm, so as a clan we must straddle a fine line. An intolerable situation all around.”

“An Englishman did save yer life once,” Nessa said. “Ye ne’er should ha’e gone that far into the woods by yerself.”

Sorcha briefly closed her eyes. She did not want to think of that day in the dark woods, when she’d been exploring an old foot path not far from the abandoned mill. In a sun-bedecked glen near a thundering waterfall she’d come upon a group of four ragged-looking English raiders, three of whom were interested in taking something from her which she did not want to give. As they were tearing at her clothes, the fourth, a young lad with piercing blue eyes, fought them off fiercely. “Run!” he yelled as one of them slashed his face with a dirk, drawing a welter of blood.

Sorcha obeyed without looking back, clutching her torn tunic to her breast. She ne’er knew what became of the man who had defended her, for she’d never gone back that way and had never told anyone except Nessa about what had almost happened. She merely reported to Kendrew that she’d glimpsed English raiders in the woods. If she had told Kendrew about the attack, she would never have been allowed in the woods alone again.

The three men had gotten what they’d deserved. There was a great storm that night and their lifeless bodies were found the next day, washed ashore, near an inlet cave. She’d hoped somehow that the man who’d defended her had survived.

Nessa sighed. “Enough about Englishmen. King James the Third is to be married next year to Margaret of Denmark, who will bring Scotland the islands of Orkney and Shetland in lieu of a promised dowry, so he willna be thinking much about our situation. Yet if ye outright defy him, Sorcha, refusing this marriage, it would reach the king’s ears and he wouldna be happy about it, and then what would happen?”

“There are other ways to drive the Highlander away,” Sorcha said.

“It may be more difficult than we think,” Nessa said, “for I’ve heard the Maclean is a fierce warrior who inspires loyalty in all his men. And ‘tis rumored he has the gift of the Sight.” She paused. “Mayhap e’en now he sees our ruse in a vision.”

Sorcha frowned. “I dunna believe anyone could be that gifted.” She paused. “Nessa, ye ken the tale of Lailoken?”

“Yea, I heard it many times as a wee lass.”

“Then ye remember Lailoken was a Seer who lived wild in the Caledonian Forest in southern Scotland hundreds of years ago. He foresaw the death of a king. He eventually went mad.”

“Are ye suggesting our Highland Seer is a mad man?” Nessa asked. There was a strange look in her blue eyes, a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“I am wondering if he is touched in the head. But mad man or nae, yer right. He willna be easy to fool. So I will ask ye again, Nessa, can ye do this? For he arrives for today’s evening meal with a full contingent of men. Can ye pretend to be lady heir to this keep, the most odious, annoying creature in all of the Lowlands? Can ye pretend to be
me
, only with terrible manners? No one will let on to the deception, for as ye ken, all Douglas clan members are loyal to me and they dunna wish to be ruled by a Maclean laird. They are all ready to support yer performance.”

Nessa nodded her head. “I…can.”

“Ye dunna sound vera confident. Can ye exhibit the most atrocious manners and hateful disposition? Can ye do e’erything in yer power to repulse him and drive him away as I act as yer maid?”

Nessa squared her small shoulders. She strode to a table near the window and poured herself a goblet of red wine, her back erect. Raising the glass she took a sip and then belched loudly. “See? I can do it and I will.”

Sorcha laughed at the crass sound but quickly sobered. “A man is nae easily driven away from inherited lands given him by a king, e’en by a belching, uncouth fiancée. ‘Twould be better if ye were plain, Nessa, for I do worry he will be smote by yer beauty, despite the atrocious manners ye will display. Men are often fools in the presence of beauty.”

Nessa swallowed more wine. “He will see nothing but my hideous nature, my lady.”

“Ye must stop referring to me as yer lady. Ye must talk to me sternly and order me about rudely. Can ye do it?”

“Och, yer right.” Nessa drained the glass of wine. “Rest assured, an actress in the queen’s troupe of players couldna perform better than I. I ha’e older brothers who possess the mannerisms of wild boars, as ye well know. Hasna Tomas been trying to court ye for three years now, and rather clumsily? I ken ye grow irritated with him, but ye ha’e been patient, e’en with his disgusting lack of manners. I, on the other hand, ha’e been exposed to my brothers’ piggish antics since I was a wee girl and ha’e no more patience for it. Certainly I can call on that when I need to
impress
the Highlander with my refined upbringing.” Nessa’s vivid, blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “But…”

“But what, Nessa?”

“I ha’e heard Highlanders possess an awful lack of manners themselves. They are dirty, uncouth, and slovenly. So this Malcolm Maclean may nae be bothered by my awful manners.”

“I hadna thought of that,” Sorcha said, retrieving a small, silver mirror from a table and studying her own reflection. She and Nessa were about the same size, and now she wore Nessa’s simple grey tunic, stockings, and sturdy leather boots. Though the tunic had been washed and beaten on a rock, it still smelled faintly but not unpleasantly of wood smoke.

“Let us hope that ye can display manners e’en worse than those of any foul Highlander.”

Nessa smiled. “I will dip my fingers in the sauce up to my knuckles and smack my lips and dribble sauce onto my chest! I will put my fingers in the salt bowl and pick my teeth with my knife! I will lift my plate to my mouth and wipe my mouth on my sleeve. Nay, I will wipe my mouth on
his
sleeve! And I will be sure to feed the hounds beneath the table and throw the bones o’er my shoulders. I may e’en
spit
.”

Satisfied, Sorcha sat down on a chair in front of the hearth and Nessa began to pin up her fiery auburn hair. Sorcha turned and pinched her.

“Och! What do ye?” Nessa cried, rubbing her arm.

“Yer the lady of the keep now! Ye dunna wait on me. And if ye make that mistake again, I’ll pinch ye harder!”