Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) (24 page)

The petitioners were escorted to chairs in a gallery section set on either side of the throne. Brenna and Megan had hoped to find chairs in front, but most of the gallery was already filled. They were forced to take seats in the far corner of the gallery behind rows of spectators. Brice and Angus stood behind them.

A flurry of trumpets heralded the arrival of the queen. Brenna and Megan strained to see over the heads of the spectators, but all they caught was a glimpse of scarlet velvet and the glint of rubies and diamonds that adorned the royal crown.

For his part, Brice was completely disinterested in the pomp of the royal Court. He had had his fill of such things in his youth. His thoughts centered on only one. Meredith. To know that she was safe, and spending the day in the security of the queen’s palace, filled his heart with peace.

Their brief meeting after morning meal had been unsatisfying. Though they had talked about her journey from the Highlands, and the perils they had both faced, there had been no time alone.

Tonight, he thought with a rush of heat. Tonight he would go to Meredith’s chambers. And at last they would be reunited.

When the queen ascended the throne, Brice glanced at the two young women who actually trembled with excitement. For all his disenchantment with royalty, he realized he would enjoy watching the proceedings through the eyes of Brenna and Megan. If only Meredith could have joined him. Or better, if they could have slipped away during these long hours. But she had insisted that there were pressing matters that she must attend for the sake of the queen.

Brice’s eyes narrowed. When he and Mary Stuart were alone on the morrow, he would confide his fears about Meredith’s safety. And he would officially ask the queen to look into the mysterious murders taking place along the Border. It had never mattered to him before. Let others think what they wanted about him. But now it was time to clear his name. So that he could ask Meredith MacAlpin to share it.

~ ~ ~

Meredith’s heart swelled as she walked up the aisle and lifted her hand to the masses of people who bowed and curtsied as she passed. She was experiencing her first taste of what it was like to be loved and revered by so many. And yet the nagging thought persisted. How could it be that none of them noticed that she was an imposter? Even Lord Aston, the queen’s aide, had gone over the list of activities without so much as a pause to glance directly into her face. Did she dare to hope that she could get through the entire day without being found out?

As she took her seat upon the throne, she cast a benevolent smile over the crowd.

Lord Aston began reading the first petition. As he read from the scroll, Meredith allowed her gaze to scan the spectators. They were staring at her with such awe, she felt her throat go dry. What was she doing here? God in heaven. This was not some silly game being played out so that the queen could experience romance. This was, for many of the people seated before her, a matter of life and death.

As Lord Aston’s voice droned on she lost her sense of concentration. It no longer mattered what the petitioner was requesting of his queen. She was an imposter. An ordinary woman who was being asked to make decisions that would affect the lives of the people she loved.

As Lord Aston finished his speech, Meredith waited for the voice of doom. Surely God would strike her down for such arrogance. She waited for the sound of thunder. Instead there was an ominous silence.

Meredith felt Flem’s hand upon her arm and gave a guilty start, bringing her out of her reverie. What had just been requested of her? She couldn’t think. Could not even recall the words that had just been spoken.

The crowd shifted uneasily as Lord Aston repeated the petition a second time. Forcing herself to pay attention, Meredith spoke in halting tones.

“I shall take the petitioner’s request under advisement. Proceed with the next, Lord Aston.”

The crowd gave a murmur of disapproval. They had come here to watch the high- and lowborn among them spar with the queen. They did not wish to have any controversial topics set aside.

Her aide seemed perplexed as he uncurled the second scroll and began to read. This one was easier. A petitioner requested that his neighbor’s land be given to him because the neighbor had allowed the land to go fallow.

“What would you do with the land if I were to give it to you?” Meredith asked.

The portly man stood and bowed his head respectfully. Beside him, his wife beamed with pride at her husband’s moment of glory.

“I would plant it with crops, Majesty. I have a fine, healthy herd and they have need of more food.”

“And who would do this planting?”

“I have four strapping sons.”

“You are truly blessed,” Meredith said. She looked into the crowd. “Who owns this land?”

A plump woman, her gray hair pulled into an untidy knot, stood. “I do, Majesty.”

“Do you have a husband?” Meredith asked.

“He died a year ago.” The woman fingered a sash at her waist, too humble to look at the regal figure on the throne.

“Are there any sons who can work the land?”

“I have a son, Majesty. A bonnie lad he is. But he is off fighting the English who raided our Border.”

“No other children?”

“There is a daughter, Majesty. Her husband was killed by the English, and she and her three bairns are now living with me. She and I have tried to till the soil but it is more than we can manage.”

Meredith studied the woman, then glanced at the neighbor who desired her land. If only, she thought, life could always be equitable. But some were born with health, or acquired wealth, while others seemed always beaten down by the trials of this life.

“Until this woman’s son returns and is able to work the land I will grant you permission to plant your crops on her land.”

The man smiled, enormously pleased at his good fortune.

“Provided you give half your crops to your neighbor in payment for the use of such land.”

The man’s mouth dropped open. “But it is my labor, Majesty, that produces the crops.”

“Aye. And her land. Furthermore, when her son returns, the land reverts to him and his mother.”

“But, Majesty...”

“That is the judgment of your queen.”

During this entire exchange, the crowd had grown very quiet. It was obvious, from the smiles on many of the faces, that they were pleased with the queen’s decision.

At the queen’s first words, Brenna and Megan stared at each other in shock. Though the clothes and jewels were those of a queen, the voice was Meredith’s. There was no mistaking it. But though both girls craned to see over the crowd, they could not see their queen’s face.

As distracted as Brice was, he, too, knew that the voice he was hearing was not that of Mary. From his position at the back of the gallery he studied the regal figure upon the throne.

By all that was holy. Meredith. Disguised as the queen.

A smile touched his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. So that was why she had been so unnerved this morrow. The rumors about the queen’s tryst with Lord Bothwell were the truth. And once again his little firebrand was being shamelessly used by Mary.

Brenna and Megan tugged at his sleeve, eager to share their secret. But he put a finger to his lips and nodded. Puzzled, they turned around and continued to watch as this amazing charade was played out.

The petitions dragged on and Meredith handled those that were within her realm. Any that seemed too complicated, or too politically explosive, were “taken under advisement.” Each time Meredith made a decision her voice grew stronger, her mannerisms more regal, until she found herself thinking and acting like the queen.

When a nervous old woman in a shabby dress petitioned to force a nobleman to pay her for the clothes she had made him, Meredith turned to study the finely attired man.

“Did the lady make the clothes you are wearing?”

He bowed slightly before his queen. “Aye, Majesty. But one of my own servants had to strengthen the seam here,” he said pointing, “or I would not have been able to wear it.”

“Has she made other clothes as well?”

“Some, Majesty. But all of them needed additional work.”

“And you have paid this woman nothing?”

“Her work was shoddy.”

“Yet you continue to wear the clothes she made.”

The man fell silent.

“You will pay her the sum you promised her, and ten gold sovereigns more.”

“More! Why, Majesty?”

“Because you did not live up to the terms of your agreement. If the clothes needed further sewing, they should have been returned immediately for repairs. The fact that you accepted them, and wore them, proves that they were adequate.”

The look on the man’s face told the spectators that he was not happy with the judgment. But the dressmaker saw the smiles on the faces of the crowd as she passed.

“I would take a moment,” the queen said to Lord Aston as he prepared to read the next petition.

He paused.

Seeing the dressmaker’s dilemma had reminded her of a debt she owed. This may be her only chance to repay it.

In regal tones Meredith said, “I decree that the official dressmaker to the queen shall be Rowena, a woman from the Highland clan Mackay. See that she is brought to Edinburgh this day in the queen’s own carriage.”

Lord Aston recorded the edict on a scroll, then stood and cleared his throat before proceeding with the next petition.

In the back of the gallery, Brice watched the woman he loved with a mixture of humor and awe. What an amazing woman she was. She was handling affairs of state as if she had been born for this task alone. He chuckled. Mary Stuart would feel the results of her charade for many years to come.

Lord Aston’s voice rang through the chambers.

“Gareth MacKenzie of the Borders, in the matter of the death of Meredith MacAlpin.”

At his words Meredith felt her throat go dry. At the sudden movement in the gallery, she turned to watch as the figures parted and one stepped forward. As she sat on the throne, she found herself face-to-face with the man she most feared and hated. Gareth MacKenzie.

G
areth was feeling supremely confident. Standing in the presence of the queen, with his men around him, he intended to paint a heroic picture of himself. He was aware, of course, that his golden hair and handsome face endeared him to most people. And in front of this young queen he would be the most charming man in all of Scotland.

He had rehearsed his speech until he was certain there was nothing he had forgotten. With characteristic boldness, he began.

“My younger brother, Desmond, was to have wed the lady Meredith MacAlpin. On his wedding day Desmond was brutally murdered by the Highland Barbarian, Brice Campbell. His young bride was carried off to Campbell’s Highland castle.”

Meredith was aware of the gasps from many in the crowd. Scant months ago she, too, would have feared for the life of anyone abducted by Brice Campbell. His reputation as a scoundrel and murderer had been carefully established throughout the land.

In the back of the gallery Brice listened with a look of intense concentration to this man who had set out to destroy his reputation and who had nearly succeeded in ending his life as well.

“To avenge my brother’s death and to save the young innocent from this savage, my men and I attacked Campbell’s Highland home, Kinloch House, and though we were outnumbered, managed to kill Brice Campbell. But the lady, probably fearing for her life at the hands of that barbarian, fled into the Highland forests. My men and I searched for days but found no trace of her. It is our belief that the lady perished in the Highlands.”

“Could she not have taken refuge in a cottage?”

“We inquired of many Highlanders, Majesty. No one has seen her.”

“But if you have no proof of her death, why do you wish to have her declared dead?”

“Her clan is left without leadership or protection, Majesty. There are but two helpless maidens left to lead the MacAlpin clan.” Gareth puffed up his chest and stood straighter. “I would be willing to wed the next eldest, Brenna, and offer the protection of my men.”

“How very gracious of you.” Meredith’s tone frosted over. “If I grant your request, and you wed Brenna MacAlpin, you will claim her land as your own?”

“’Twould be my right, Majesty. But in return I would pledge my armies to the protection of her people.”

“So, if you were to acquire the MacAlpin properties there would be no more lads murdered in the night, my lord MacKenzie? There would be no mysterious visits from this Highland Barbarian, who has been blamed for the deaths of every man, woman, child and sheep in Scotland?”

At the queen’s sarcastic outburst Gareth felt the first tremor of alarm.

“The Highland Barbarian is dead, Majesty. Have you forgotten that I killed him?”

“I have forgotten nothing. This occurred during your attack upon his home, I believe.”

When Gareth nodded she asked innocently, “With this Brice Campbell dead, why would the MacAlpins need your protection?”

He paused. He had not expected this question. “There are others who would prowl the darkness in search of those weaker than they. It has always been thus.”

“Others? Are you suggesting that some of the murders along the Border may not have been committed by Brice Campbell?”

He was taken aback by that. “I—would suppose that is true.”

“Some murders of Borderers may even have been committed by Borderers?”

Where was the queen leading him? “I do not know, Majesty.”

“Come now, my lord MacKenzie. Have you no idea who might have gone about murdering innocent lads?”

“Nay. I know not.”

“But I know.” She got to her feet and stood facing him, small, elegant, regal. Her voice rang with authority, “Your queen must care about all the people in her realm. Even an insignificant Border lad who dares not walk about a darkened lane lest he be put upon by those bent upon destruction.”

Gareth shivered. She knew about Duncan’s grandson. His mind raced. “Young MacAlpin was murdered by the Highland Barbarian. I myself witnessed it.”

“What an amazing man this barbarian is,” Meredith said, her voice like ice. “He can be in two places at once.” Gareth began to protest, but her next words stopped him. “When you were witnessing this murder, Brice Campbell was entertaining your queen at his Highland castle.”

A loud murmur rippled through the crowd.

Gareth’s mouth opened but no words could come out.

“Do you still wish to state that you were there when the lad was murdered?”

“Perhaps I was mistaken.” Gareth, feeling a sheen of moisture on his forehead, stumbled about for some explanation to smooth over his awkward situation. “Perhaps I came upon him moments after.”

“And you did not actually witness his murder?”

“I...” He stared at a spot on the floor. “Nay, Majesty.”

“But it was your knife that was found bloodied. A knife you said was taken from you and plunged into the lad’s heart. You told all who would listen that the blame lay with the Highland Barbarian.”

Gareth was stung by her harshness. The woman was publicly humiliating him.

“I—did not recognize the men who murdered the lad, Majesty. But I thought one of them to be the Highland Barbarian.”

“As you thought many times, my lord MacKenzie. Have you not accused Brice Campbell of every Border incident for the past two years?”

There was a long pause, and Gareth felt the monarch’s gaze leveled on him. He chose not to respond to her attack.

“Now about this matter of Meredith MacAlpin.”

Gareth stiffened at the dark mood of the queen. “I request that your Majesty declare her dead.”

Meredith pointed a bejeweled finger at the man who stood trembling before her. “I declare that Meredith MacAlpin is alive.”

The crowd leaned forward, their murmured words nearly drowning out her voice.

In the back of the gallery, Brice tensed, wishing he could inch his way through the crowd and get closer to Meredith.

MacKenzie had many men here with him. Backed into a corner, he would be like a vicious dog.

“Why would you declare her alive, Majesty?” Gareth’s voice rose in anger.

“Your queen has seen her.”

“That—that is splendid news,” Gareth said in halting tones, trying vainly to salvage his image.

“Aye. Splendid.” Meredith was beginning to enjoy herself. “In fact, the lass visited your queen here in Holyroodhouse this very day.”

“She is here?” Gareth’s eyes narrowed. Without realizing it, his hand went to the sword at his waist.

“She had me spellbound with her stories.” Meredith paused for dramatic effect, then said in a voice that carried through the hall, “Meredith MacAlpin overheard you plotting her murder.”

For a moment the crowd fell silent, then many stood and began craning their necks for a better view of this unexpected confrontation.

“The woman lies, Majesty.”

“Why would she lie about this, my lord?”

“Perhaps she took a blow to the head during her abduction by the Barbarian.” Gareth was now sweating profusely, and he wiped a hand across his brow. “I would ask to be allowed to confront the woman who spreads such lies about me.”

“You are confronting the woman...” Meredith began, then caught herself. How could she have forgotten who she was supposed to be? “Who speaks for her.” She prayed her attempt at a regal tone would cover her lapse. “This day I declare that all lands now held by you, Gareth MacKenzie, shall be equally divided among those clans who have suffered the loss of loved ones by your hands. You will be stripped of all titles. And you shall be banished forever from Scotland. If you return, you will face imprisonment in Tolbooth.”

The crowd came to its feet in a frenzy of excitement. How could they have known that an audience this day with the queen would offer such an adventure?

Gareth, standing in front of the queen’s throne, appeared stricken. Then, taking advantage of the confusion, he darted past the throne and disappeared through an open doorway.

“Seize him,” Meredith shouted to the guards who stood on either side of the throne.

Before the guards took a single step, Brice had vaulted over the railing that separated the gallery from the throne. Sword in hand he followed Gareth in hot pursuit.

~ ~ ~

Still wearing the queen’s gown, Meredith sat in the guest chambers with her two sisters and Mary Fleming.

The crowds of spectators had been disbursed. Soldiers were busy combing every inch of the palace. Angus had gone off in search of Brice.

“We are safe here,” Fleming said softly. “That horrid man will soon be found and punished.”

“I fear for Brice.” Meredith paced, unable to sit.

“Brice Campbell is the most dangerous warrior in all of Scotland. Why should you fear for his safety?”

“He is weary from his long journey. He may grow careless.”

“Aye. And he is drained, having suffered a wound at the hands of a Highland enemy, Holden Mackay.” Brenna’s soft voice trembled.

“Mackay?” Meredith whirled on her sister. “What are you saying?”

“Brice told us that he and his men attacked Mackay’s fortress searching for you. But you had already escaped in disguise.”

“God in heaven.” Meredith slumped into a chair. “And what of Mackay?”

“Mackay is dead. But in the battle, Brice was wounded.”

Meredith pressed her fingers to her temples to ease the terrible throbbing that had been building throughout the day.

“You should rest,” Fleming said softly.

“I will rest when this is over.”

They looked up expectantly at the sound of hurried footsteps. At the sight of the queen, Meredith could hardly hide her disappointment. She had hoped it would be Brice.

“Oh, my darlings, you must gather around me and hear about my wonderful day.” Mary gave Meredith a quick appraisal, and noting her obvious distress, murmured, “So now you have had a taste of what it is like to be ruler. Was she a good queen, Flem?”

“She was most fair, Majesty. And very quick of mind. You will be receiving congratulations on your wise decisions of today for many weeks to come.”

“Ah. That only adds to an already perfect adventure.”

“You were happy with your—abductor?”

The queen blushed. “The Earl of Bothwell is an exciting suitor. And a wicked rogue, much like your Brice Campbell,” she said to Meredith.

“Will you tell us everything?” Flem asked.

Mary laughed. “You know I will, Flem. Now let me begin with the very first moment my lover arrived at my chambers.”

Brenna glanced at Meredith’s pale face. With calm assurance, she surprised the queen and her Maries by taking Meredith by the hand. “Please excuse us, Majesty. Meredith must rest or she will make herself ill.”

Though she protested, Meredith allowed herself to be led to the sleeping chamber.

“I will help you change into something comfortable.” Brenna reached for the buttons of the scarlet gown.

“Nay.” Meredith stopped her. “Until the queen gives her permission, I must continue the charade.”

“Aye.” Brenna removed the crown and unpinned Meredith’s hair. “But at least you can be comfortable.”

“I will not sleep, I will merely rest for a few minutes.”

“Rest then,” Brenna whispered, helping her into bed.

“We will be just outside the door in the sitting chamber.”

Meredith’s weak smile revealed her exhaustion. “I am so glad you are here.”

“Then you do not mind that we disobeyed your orders?”

“Nay.” Meredith opened her arms and embraced her sister.

“Rest now. Soon enough we will be home.”

Home. Meredith watched as the door closed. It had been such a long time since she had enjoyed the simple pleasures of home.

Her lids fluttered. With a sigh she gave in to the overwhelming feelings that swamped her. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

~ ~ ~

The sun had made its arc to the western sky. Evening shadows drifted across the grounds of Holyroodhouse. Meredith heard the door to the outer chamber open, and heard, from the sitting chamber, the sounds of her sisters chatting with the queen. The servants had apparently brought an evening meal. From the peals of laughter that could be heard, it was obvious that the queen was still regaling them with tales of her adventure. What a delightful surprise to know that her sisters were here to share this.

At the muted sound of footsteps Meredith sat up, a bright expectant smile on her face. “Brice...”

The man who appeared beside her bed was not Brice. His golden hair and evil, dangerous smile made her heart stop. “So, my lady. At last I find you.”

As she opened her mouth to scream, he covered her mouth with his hand. In his other hand was a small, deadly knife. “If you summon the others, they will die as well. The choice is yours.”

Meredith thought about the two sisters she adored. She would rather die at the hands of this monster than give him the chance to harm Brenna or Megan. She nodded her agreement. When he removed his hand she sucked in several deep breaths and fought to control her terror.

Roughly he threw back the bed covers and dragged her to her feet. The moment the bed linens fell away, he stared in openmouthed surprise.

“That gown... You...” His eyes narrowed. “You! It was not the queen who publicly humiliated me this day. It was you.”

“Aye. And it was nearly as satisfying as seeing you dead.” She tossed her head, striving for courage she did not really feel. “You cannot hope to kill me and escape this palace. There are guards everywhere.”

“I have evaded them for hours,” he scoffed. “When darkness covers the land I will join my men who wait for me beyond the city.”

“But where can you go? You cannot hide forever. You have been banished from Scotland.”

“By you. Not by the queen.”

“I speak for the queen.” With her hands at her hips she met his level look. “The words I spoke this day are already law.”

“There are ways around the law.” He spoke quickly, as though he had already given this some thought. “There are many countries that would welcome a man who can command armies.”

“You would ask your men to leave their homes and follow you?”

“They will go where I lead them.” He moved closer. “The French queen hates Mary Stuart. She would pay me handsomely to fight for her cause.”