Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel (8 page)

“Exactly.” Robert watched a monk walk through the cloisters from one arch to the next. “If he was a spy, he betrayed them when he fled with us.”

“Then he betrayed you, as well.”

“At some point, yes. Perhaps he had a change of heart, or he may have been spying on the Jesuits all along. All I ken now is that they’ve followed us here, and they’re watching the monastery. No doubt they’ve got spies in here, as well.”

A wave of dread passed through her, but she tamped it down and remained still. A telltale flush burned her cheeks as her heart pounded. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“I have the scroll. There must be something on it—or they believe that there is—that they dinnae want to be known. And since you’ve been with me, they’ll assume that you’ve seen it as well.”

Violet looked about the quiet courtyard, unable to reconcile the peaceful surroundings with what he was telling her. “They want to kill us? People here?”

“’Tis why I was attacked and why you’re no more safe than I.”

Violet looked at the monks all about, carrying on with their daily activities. “But here?”

He covered her trembling hand with his. “Do you trust me?”

She lifted her eyes, and his gentle look bolstered her courage. “Yes.”

“I ken that you dinnae like to be told what to do.” She inhaled, about to protest, but was interrupted when he said, “But if we’re to survive, you must trust me and do as I say.”

“Okay, but—”

“Without argument.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

“We can argue all you like at the end of the day when we’re safe.”

She frowned.

With a crooked smile, he said, “I should warn you though, if we make it to the end of the day, then I will have been right. If not, you’ll not have the chance to remind me.”

“Well, that’s just not fair.” She nearly smiled, but it was a nervous and futile attempt. She steadied her gaze on him. “I don’t have a choice. But if I did, I would still trust you with my life.”

He tightened his hand about hers. “And I will protect it with mine.”

THE LEGACY

I
n the pre-dawn darkness, a drizzle sent darkening streaks down the stone walls of the Edinburgh buildings. Arriving at last on the cobbled streets, it left a damp sheen and the smell of wet stone. The uneven rolling of pushcarts was only beginning to awaken the city. From the bell tower, the abbot watched two robed figures slip through the friary gate and make their way through the long shadows, along narrow streets and even narrower wynds. At the same time, two more monks walked through a gate in the wall, and on the opposite side of the friary, a third pair of monks set forth on foot.

All of the monks were well on their way when dawn broke and a stable boy led a packhorse through the gate. He led his horse down the cobbled streets until he reached the edge of the city. From under a blanket, a man sat up and reached out his good arm to help the stable boy mount behind him. They rode south toward Roslin while, back in the city, three pairs of monks slipped back inside the friary gates.

After hours had passed, Robert and Violet pulled off the road to a place where water rushed down a hill and over some rocks. The horse needed water and rest, as did they. Robert helped Violet down then handed a bundle to her. Hiding behind a tree, Violet changed from her stable boy’s clothes into her peasant bodice and skirts, while Robert pulled off his monk’s robe. He tried to look strong and healthy, but he fooled only himself. He looked pale. She made sure that he ate some bannocks before they were on their way again.

For a long while, they rode in quiet, breathing the scent of fresh grasses. Morning sun barely shone through the faint veil of mist still clinging to the round wooded hills.

When Robert wearily exhaled, Violet said, “You’re tired. You could use another day’s rest.”

“Whisht, woman. You worry too much.”

“You must be feeling better, as grouchy as you are.” She gave him a wry sideways look.

His only answer was an impatient grunt.

Violet suspected he was more fatigued than he would admit. If he wouldn’t rest, she would try to distract him. “So how did you become a knight?”

“On a battlefield, after a battle.”

“You must have done something brave to be honored like that.”

“No more than any warrior would,” he said.

“But there must be more to the story.”

“No.”

Violet nodded. So conversation wasn’t going to happen. Silence settled once more between them.

By the time they stopped at midday, Violet could stand it no more. “What have I done?”

“Done?” Robert looked at her as though he doubted her sanity.

“Something’s wrong. You won’t talk to me. You’re clearly frustrated or angry with me, and I don’t even know what I’ve done.”

He leaned forward and set his elbow on his knee. “What you’ve done?”

He looked genuinely angry, but Violet didn’t regret having asked. At least now they could get it out in the open.

Robert looked away and heaved a deep sigh. “You've done nothing wrong.”

Violet cast a sideways glance toward him. “Well, that just isn’t true.”

He shot her a piercing look while he spoke in a voice that was quiet and measured. “I would never lie to you.”

Violet could neither think nor speak for a moment. When she did, it was all she could do to conceal the effect of his anger. She felt wounded, unsure, and a little bit angry. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand you.”

“There’s naught to understand.” He walked away to the top of the brae and looked out at the glen.

The wind blew through the gentle green grass, which hissed as it yielded to form waves of silver. Violet watched him walk away. The smart thing would have been to let him go, let him keep his dark moods and thoughts to himself. She was better without them—or him.
And now who’s lying?
She rose and went to him.

Without looking at her, he said, “I should have left you in Perth.” Violet took in a breath, preparing to argue, but he interrupted. “For your sake.”

“Really?” Now it was Violet’s turn to be annoyed. “You can't mean that.”

“But I do.”

“Have you forgotten that mob? I might have been trampled to death. Would you rather have left me to that?”

Robert nodded. “Possibly, but instead, you’ve been attacked—not once but twice—by what I believe are trained assassins. And now you are fleeing with a man whose good sense is clouded by his own foolishness.”

Mouth agape, Violet tried to find the right words.

Before she could speak, he said, “’Tis time we left.”

So that was that, according to Robert. Except that Violet was tired of him shutting her out. After what they had been through together, she didn’t think asking for just a bit more disclosure was too demanding. For although he was honest, he withheld more than he shared. Perhaps that wasn’t such a horrible trait, except when it left her in the dark, wondering what she had done or should do—or how he felt about her. Violet paused beside the horse before mounting.

She looked into his eyes. “Look, Robert, you’ve done everything right, and I’m grateful for it. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you.”

He began to protest.

“No, now it’s my turn to talk.”

He stopped and gave her his rapt attention.

Violet inwardly smiled. “Thank you. Now, you’ve got to understand that you’re not the only one making decisions around here. Everything that I’ve done, I have chosen to do. So stop acting as though you’re the only one here making decisions—or making mistakes. We’re in this together. Well, for now anyway.”

They exchanged a look that was rich with emotions neither gave voice to. While she assumed she hadn’t convinced him to stop beating himself up over how things had turned out, he looked almost appreciative. Well, at least he looked forgiven. So Violet mounted the horse and sank into Robert's arms as they rode away.

A
BOVE THE TREE
branches and leaves, pale gray washed the sky over Roslin. As they rode through the mottled shade of the woods, a dark-stoned Rosslyn Castle seemed to rise out of the solid cliff to form an imposing presence overlooking the trees rising out of a gorge. Robert and Violet rode over the bridge and into the bailey. The castle was a crumbling ruin with only portions of outer wall left. Robert took in the sight with a troubled brow.

Violet walked over to the only wall that remained of the keep and touched one of the vines twined into the stones. “How long has it been since anyone’s lived here?”

Robert shook his head. “Not for a while, I imagine.”

Violet looked about, shaking her head. “It would’ve been nice if someone had told us—to save us the trip.”

“Aye, I was thinking the same. Well, I’ll have a look about, then we’ll inquire in the village as to where we might find William Sinclair.” He walked over to a door that led to the most sound-looking portion of the remaining structure.

As he reached for the handle, a voice from behind him spoke with an English accent. “He’s away fighting border rebels.”

Robert turned, expecting to see someone from the castle or village. Instead he found four men in black Jesuit cassocks, one holding Violet with his hand over her mouth.

One of them stood in front of the others. “Sir Robert. ’Tis a pleasure to see you again.”

He had black hair and a scar under his left eye, and Robert recognized him as the priest he had pushed off the Brig of Earn. Robert looked straight into the priest’s dark eyes. “Leave the lady out of this.”

The priest smiled. “Oh, I wish that I could, but the lady is very much a part of it. But I will tell you this—if you give me the scroll, I’ll not kill her.”

“Nor harm her.”

With a sly smile, the priest nodded. “Nor harm her.”

Robert said, “I’ll need more than your word.”

“More than my word?” He assumed a wounded expression.

Robert eyed him with mistrust. “Swear to God, and by your Jesuit oath.”

“My what?” the priest scoffed.

“You heard me. Swear that neither you nor your men will do harm to the lady.”

With a light laugh, the priest said, “I swear before God and on my Jesuit oath that we’ll not harm her.”

Robert pulled off the quiver containing the scroll. “First let her go.”

“Seize him,” ordered the priest with a shrug. His companions forced the scroll from Robert’s hands and started to drag him away, but the priest told them to stop. “I don’t want him to miss this. I’ve never been defeated until I met you. Now you’ll pay for that privilege.”

The priests led Violet and Robert to a hole in the ruined part of the castle.

“We’re in luck. The oubliette is still here.” The leader smiled at Robert. “Of course, ’tis not as refreshing as the River Earn, but it will have to do.” He glanced at his men. “Put her in it.”

The men tied a rope around Violet’s waist and lowered her into the deep tubular hole. On the way down, she tried to climb back up hand over hand, but they dropped her suddenly, making her free fall the last few feet. One of the men warned her that if she didn’t untie the rope and send it back up, they would pull her back up and make her wish that she had.

The leader smiled at Robert. “Oh, but we didn’t give you a chance to bid your lady farewell.”

Robert lunged at the priest, but two men held him back. All he could do was glare.

“Let him see her down there all alone—but unharmed—in the dark, lonely pit.” The scar-faced priest gave him a crooked smile. “Now, I believe our business is complete.” As he turned away and started to walk toward the village, he said, “Throw him over the edge.”

Robert fought them, fueled not only by the drive to survive but for Violet, whose life depended solely upon his survival. They held no weapons, for they needed none. They struck with precision, almost too fast to be seen, let alone anticipated. Unlike any fighting he had seen, they used their hands as if they were spears or knives, then they jabbed with their elbows and knees. Robert had only his strength to oppose their uncanny speed and deft maneuvers, but he fought well. With his right fist, he landed a solid blow that sent one man staggering back. He followed with his left, while the others looked on as though entertained.

When he turned to them, one of them turned sideways and kicked while the other flipped him over to land on his back with a grunt. Tasting defeat, not to mention the dirt, he imagined Violet languishing in that oubliette until she died a slow, painful death, and a rage roiled within him that brought him renewed strength. He looked up to determine where each man was, then he sized up their strengths and chose the one he had the best chance of defeating. With a bellowing cry, he lunged for him.

But the others pulled him off their companion and used the momentum to back Robert to the edge of the stone wall that overlooked the ravine. He was bent backward over the ledge, his shoulders pressed hard by one priest while another grabbed his feet and upended him. By sheer force of will, Robert hung on and took the one holding him over the edge with him. The two fell, still struggling as they brushed past branches and twigs on their way down.

NOT FORGOTTEN

T
he priest landed with his back wedged where the base of a branch met the thick trunk of a tree. With his fall partly broken by his now-dead attacker, Robert fell back from the branch as leaves rustled and twigs snapped. He randomly grasped for anything that might stop his descent until a branch caught his doublet and held him suspended. He struggled to breathe before the branch snapped, and he fell to a nearby branch below, where he held on. Secure for the time being, he thought of Violet and steeled himself for the climb down from the tree. Sharp pain shot through his chest to his side, but he forced himself to keep inching his way down the tree. From branch to branch, he proceeded with battered hands and unbearable pain in his ribs. A wrong move could send him to his death and Violet to hers, so by sheer force of will, he kept on, despite the blinding pain. He arrived at the last branch, which was ten feet from the ground. On another day, dropping to the ground would have been nothing, but he had not yet fully recovered from having been poisoned, and now he was sure he had cracked at least one rib. The drop to the ground would be his undoing. But he had to get Violet. So he fixed his mind on what had to be done, and he let himself fall.