Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) (25 page)

His spine straightened. “Then—”

She gripped his forearm. “Yet, there is also
the babe’s mood to be pondered. A mother’s mood affects the mood,
the mind, of the babe she carries. ‘Tis well known.”

* * *

Morgunn leapt to his feet and thundered over
to the slope in the terrain that led down to the burn. The same
place, not an hour past, where he’d snared his long-lost bride and
saved her from a terrible tumble down to the river rock that edged
the burn below. His arms akimbo, he glared at naught, at the
silver-shine on the water, at the moon-glisten on the back of a
lone frog squatting on the bank, watching with bulging, round-eyed
intent the flies buzzing o’er and ‘round the rotting center of a
fallen tree.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the ache
in his heart, forced the words past his lips that he knew could
harm his grandbabe, would, no doubt, harm his wife’s new-kindled
trust in him. “We cannot.”

Immediately from behind came the angry
rustle of skirts, followed by the snap and crunch of twigs and
forest floor debris as Gwynlyan rushed up to stand at his side.
“Aye, we
can
, we must!” She yanked at his sleeve and he
turned to face her, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Morgunn,
did you not ken me before? Our daughter needs us! Her unborn bairn
needs us!”

Looking into Gwynlyan’s large, lovely, dark
eyes—eyes that now held panic—he lifted his hand toward her cheek,
but halted the motion halfway, fearing, nay,
knowing
, that
she’d not allow the touch now. “Aye, they do, but they need us not
in the flesh. ‘Tis too soon to show ourselves—”

“But, Morg—”

“Nay, Gwynlyan. Forget not our purpose, for
more lives are at stake than just the babe’s. We must strike first
if we are to regain all we have lost, if we are to be safe from my
brother’s deadly duplicity. Stealth is our best, mayhap, only
weapon against our foes.”

Without thought, he took hold of her hand,
then was pleased when she did not immediately pull it back. “ ‘Tis
my final word. I beg you, argue with me no more on this, for we
have other pressing concerns to discuss before this night begins to
wane into morn.”

At first, he thought she’d ignore his
request, as she slipped her hand from his and turned away. But when
she only walked back to sit under the tree again, then patted the
place beside her and smiled, he took in a long breath of relief and
returned the gesture before joyfully doing as she’d bade.

A Bond Broken

“
My son – and what's a son? A thing
begot

Within a pair of minutes, thereabout: A lump
bred up in darkness.”

The Spanish Tragedie (Act III, scene xi)

“
What outcries pluck me from my naked
bed

And chill my throbbing heart with trembling
fear.”

The Spanish Tragedie (Act II, scene ii)

“
He was my comfort and his mother’s
joy,

the very arm that did hold up our house—

our hopes were stored up in him.”

The Spanish Tragedie (Act III, scene xi)

‘T
WAS WITH SOME
consternation the next morn that Vika found herself alone in the
great hall. All had already broken their fast, and were about their
daily duties, leaving Vika to cast about in her own company. She
tried for a time to search out her cousin, but at every end, she
discovered she’d just missed meeting her, and Morgana had flitted
off to her next destination.

It became apparent that Vika would do best
to simply enjoy the quiet time, and content herself with seeing her
cousin again at the nooning meal.

With that thought in mind, she decided to
explore her surroundings a bit more. After a quick return to her
chamber to replace the pale rose-colored silk veil and silver filet
she wore o’er her hair with a plain white wimple, and the matching
gown with a plain brown woolen one for her excursion, she made her
way to the courtyard. ‘Twas a bright day, with ne’er a cloud in the
sky, she was pleased to find, and feeling a new surge of excitement
as she gazed about her, she smiled. Robert’s fortress was not a
large one, not the size by half of her father’s demesne. But this
one was rife with possibilities, and she could see immediately the
improvements upon the old structure, even envision how the final
outcome would look. ‘Twas clear that Robert was replacing much of
the original earthwork, timber, and thatched roof portions with
stone, as well as expanding the walls and furbishing the barbican.
The keep, that held the great hall and the living quarters, was a
stone tower with the chapel attached on one side and the kitchens
on the other. If any furbishing had been done to it, ‘twas not
visible to Vika’s eye.

Not far from the kitchens, and through a
tall wooden gate, lay the herb garden that she and Robert had
meandered about in this day past. For a brief moment, she
contemplated taking another stroll around it, but the exercise held
little interest, so she abandoned the notion in favor of a newer
adventure, in pursuit of which, she sauntered out of the courtyard,
through the arched opening in the stone wall, and into the outer
bailey.

As she eagerly took in her surroundings, she
first heard the sound of iron against stone and the muffled, low
tones of men’s voices, then saw the collection of master carpenters
and masons, along with their journeymen and apprentices, against
the north wall. Several of the men looked up and saw her, then bent
their heads back to their tasks.
Naught for me here.
With a
sigh, she turned back and entered the courtyard once again.

Wandering around the side of the kitchens,
she was surprised to spy a battered, somewhat tumbledown section.
‘Twas attached to the back side of the keep, but clearly part of a
much older section. Curious, and with naught else to occupy her
time as she burned away the last hour until the nooning meal, she
shrugged, smiled, and sallied forth, intent on a bit of exploration
before dinner.

* * *

The apprentice looked o’er his shoulder a
third time and, seeing the master mason still occupied with the
ingeniator, moved through the gate leading into the courtyard. He’d
managed to make his way over here in time to learn the direction in
which the lady had gone, and was determined now to see an end to
this.

He’d ne’er been one to miss an easy
opportunity, especially one that seemed to have been handed to him
from the Fates themselves. Nay, he’d not spit in those ladies’
faces, he’d not. He’d long grown weary of this watching and
waiting. He wanted action, swift and sure. And if Morgunn and
Gwynlyan were alive and e’er drifted out of their hiding holes,
then he’d hasten to do the same to them. Donnach had grown soft in
his old age, but he’d not. Nay, he’d not.

The ancient wood plank door with black iron
braces had been left ajar and the apprentice silently stepped
across the portal of the timeworn timber, wattle and daub structure
into the dim, cool entry. Across a ten-foot expanse, a stone
hearth, long dead and cold, gaped like an open maw in the wall.
Cobwebs hung down, sheer as moth wings, in every corner and
crevice, and the smell of dirt and rotted wood came to his
nostrils, nearly bringing on a sneeze before he clamped his fingers
to his nose, holding his breath a beat until the urge to do so
passed. Midway, and to his right lay a staircase made of heavy
splintered wood and iron. From above, he heard the shuffle of
footsteps, the creak of old boards, and, with what little light the
open doorway afforded, caught sight of a fall of dust and earth
floating down from above with the movement. The sound spurred him
into action. At the base of the stair, he looked up and found that
it made its first turn some fourteen steps up. He’d hide in the
black cove of that landing above and when she descended, he’d have
her.

With his plan set, he softly placed his foot
on the first step.

* * *

Vika clapped the dust from her hands and
perched them on her hips. The light from the three paneless windows
brightened the chamber and streamed across the wood plank floor. It
illuminated the dust floating in the air about her as well and a
sneeze caught her by surprise. ‘Twas time to depart this hovel, for
she’d found naught but an empty broken chest, cobwebs and forsaken
vermin nests on this ill-conceived adventure. Clearly, all items of
interest had long since been hauled from here into the newer
portions of the keep. She wondered why Robert hadn’t torn this
section down, since ‘twas clearly long left vacant, and at this
point, more of a hazard for fire than aught else.

With a sigh of disappointment, she stepped
over to the windows, closed and locked their shutters again, then
ambled back to the doorway leading to the stairs.

* * *

Hearing the lady’s foot treads coming e’er
closer, the apprentice hunched further into the dark corner of the
landing and, with hands up and ready, he held his breath.

* * *

Absently humming a bawdy tune Grímr had
taught her years before, Vika thought,
At least, at the nooning
meal, I shall have a bit of respite from my boredom,
as she
lifted both her skirts and her foot to descend the first step.

Something—someone?—yanked on the back of her
skirts.
“A-a-a-a-a...!”
she screamed. Her other foot left
the ground and her body projected forward, anchorless for mere
seconds before she dropped, crashed, hurtled, rolled, and bumped
against wood plank and iron railing, each board crunching and
bruising another portion of her frame. This time, her shoulder, the
next, her hip, the next her shin, the next her spine, and finally
her head against cold, ungiving iron.
The babe!

The world spun. Black mist crept along the
edges of her vision. Her hands went to her womb. Morpheus brought
oblivion.

* * *

Horror filled the apprentice’s breast,
cutting off his wind, as he gazed down at his victim and saw hair
as black as a raven’s wing poking from the wimple on her head.

He’d murdered the wrong lady!
‘Twas
Donnach’s daughter he’d sent to her grave. And now, he’d be a dead
man for sure. The thought put wing to his feet and he leapt down
the stairs, across the prone form, and o’er the threshold of the
door. A trickle of sweat fell into his eye and he rubbed the sting
viciously with the soiled and calloused palm of his hand as he
looked first right, then left, scouting the area. His breath blew
harsh and loud in his ears as, finding that all was quiet and
still, he headed back to the site under construction. With luck,
he’d be back among the others with ne’er a one having noticed his
absence.

Aye, that be the best way to go about this.
For, ‘twould be as good as a confession were he to scurry off now,
and a roasting for sure when he was caught. Aye, ‘twas a good plan.
For, with no witnesses, neither his partners in this scheme they
brewed, nor Robert MacVie, would suspect ‘twas more than an
accidental misstep on the lady’s part as she came down the stairs
of that abandoned and broken relic.

Approaching the bailey a bit to the side of
the entry allowed him visual access to the company of men working
on the repairs and renovations to the fortress. None faced his
direction, and all seemed concentrated on their own task. He could
not see the ingeniator, nor the master mason, however. So, skirting
even further to the side of the entryway, he pressed himself
against the stone wall and, with heart pounding and palms sweating,
he took in a deep breath and peeked around the edge of the
opening.

A sigh of unutterable relief gushed from his
lungs when he saw that the two had moved even further afield than
they’d been when he’d left here not more than a quarter-hour past.
Their heads were still bent together, discussing some aspect or
other of the drawing the ingeniator held of the planned changes to
be instituted to the stronghold.

Not daring to hover there another moment
gawping at the assembly, he walked through the entry with a
purposefulness to his mien and step, glanced to his side, found a
barrow of crushed stone, grabbed it up by its handles and pushed it
o’er to the area that needed it. When one of the men only barely
lifted his gaze to him and said, “Aye, ‘tis good. Bring us another,
will ye? I think ‘twill take two loads for this portion,” he knew
for a fact that no one had realized his absence.

But the question still remained:
How to
end the other’s life so he could return to his own?

* * *

His wife pressed her palms to the back of
Robert’s tunic and pushed him forward. She’d been near to frantic
by the time he’d arrived in the great hall for their repast a
quarter-hour ago and, after quite a flurry of hand and mouth
movements, he’d at last discovered that she’d been in search of her
cousin for the past half-hour, after discovering that Vika had, in
fact, been in search of her that morn as well, and now Morgana
could not find her.