Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] (13 page)

"I trusted the king to aid a Celtic clan."

"He must see to the welfare of Scotland above all." Terse words, but not unkindly said. "Surely you realized that when you came to him for help."

She shook her head as she stared at the mountains. "I thought only of my people," she said. "I was a fool to think no further. I am no leader to them, to bring this upon them."

For a moment, she felt as if she could not breathe, as if her heart grew impossibly heavy within her. She stood motionless, her face and hands chilled from the wind. Strands of her hair slipped free from the confines of the plaid around her shoulders and looped out in the breeze.

Across the loch beneath the violet sky, the Stone Maiden stood pale and eternal, a monument to strength and tragedy. The Maiden had given hope and beneficence to her clan. Now all seemed finally, utterly lost.

Finan nuzzled at her hand. She lifted it away, not wanting to touch or be touched. Comfort could break her. She needed to stay strong. She felt dull and cold within, as if she too were formed of granite, the fire of her anger smothered by sadness.

"Lady Alainna," the knight said. He reached out a hand and cupped her shoulder. "I know this news is not welcome to you. There are other issues to discuss, but—"

She stepped away from his warm touch. "I cannot listen to any more from you just now," she said. If he spoke again in that low, mellifluous bard's voice, if he touched her—
dear God,
if he touched her, she would crack open like a flawed stone.

Stifling a cry, she ran past him and headed down the earthen slope with the dog behind her. She needed to go where she could be alone, where she could find solace. Reaching the gate, she waited impatiently while Donal, who had returned to his post, opened the gate after Alainna told him that she wanted to visit the Maiden for a special blessing, promising to return shortly.

Donal slid the heavy beam aside in its iron brackets. She stepped through the gateway with Finan beside her, and took the path that led around the loch toward the Stone Maiden.

* * *

Sebastien sighed, watching. The girl should not run about the hills at night unescorted, prey for wolves and MacNechtans. He strode forward, amazed that her elder kinsman let her go. He touched a hand to the hilt of the dagger sheathed in his belt, deciding it would have to be enough to ward off trouble if any were met. Then he walked quickly toward the gate, glancing around the starlit yard as he went.

The bailey was spacious, its wide circular shape defined by the timber palisade, its center dominated by a high wooden tower. Smaller buildings huddled against the inner walls: sheds, stables, kitchen and brewhouse, one or two other buildings whose function he could not identify. Only the kitchen, built of stone where the others were of timber or wattle and daub, glowed with a lighted hearth. A woman's shadow crossed the open doorway as she tended to some chores. Elsewhere, a cow lowed from a pen in the corner, along with quiet snorts from the horses in the stables.

The tower soared above all, three stories high on stout timber posts. A few narrow windows cut in the wooden walls blinked like sleepy golden eyes. Music and laughter floated out from the second story, where the long hall was located. Nearly everyone present at Kinlochan would be inside, either in the main hall above the storage chambers, or in the sleeping chambers on the third and uppermost floor.

"And your business, Norman?" the guard at the gate asked.

"To protect your clan chief," he answered bluntly. "Do you want to follow her yourself, or would you rather I do it?"

"Your legs are younger than mine. You go. I will shout a warning if any demons be about. But the Stone Maiden protects our own Maiden of Kinlochan."

Sebastien cast him a puzzled look at the odd remark, and stepped through the gate. The air outside was cool and unconfined and moist from the loch. Overhead, the night sky deepened to indigo.

He narrowed his eyes and scanned the countryside, seeking a flitting shadow or the bark of the deerhound. Then he glimpsed the girl and her dog running through the high grass, already on the opposite shore of the loch.

He headed cautiously down the rocky slope, through the shadows of the unfamiliar landscape. Once on level turf, he struck out with a long, sure stride.

Alainna ran toward the tall stone that jutted into the sky on a bank of the loch. She disappeared into its shadow.

Sebastien slowed his step. If she needed time to herself, he did not want to disturb her. But he would not leave her alone out here, hound or none.

He could not lag discreetly, for the dog barked and ran toward him, panting in a friendly manner, already familiar with him. He nosed at Sebastien and then shoved his huge head under the man's outstretched hand.

"Ho, you ugly brute," Sebastien murmured affectionately. "Ready to protect your mistress, eh? I am no threat to her, though she thinks I am. Good lad." He strode ahead, the dog loping beside him.

The stone loomed large as he came closer, a tall pillar of granite, like a serene giantess overlooking the loch. He glanced up as he walked. Even in the darkness he could see the graceful linear carvings that marked the front and back surfaces.

Alainna stepped out of the shadow of the stone like a wraith. The dog ran toward her, circled beside her, then ran back toward Sebastien, covering the lessening distance between them, back and forth.

"Finan," she said. "Here." The dog circled toward her and ran back to Sebastien. "Finan!"

Sebastien reached out to ruffle the dog's head. Finan licked his hand and ran back toward Alainna, accepted a pat from her, and ran back again, his tail floppy and eager.

Alainna walked toward them. "I do not understand it," she said. "He treats you as if you were one of my own kinsmen, though he hardly knows you. Finan, here!"

The dog turned toward her, tongue lolling, and turned back to Sebastien for another vigorous rub on his head. "He did growl quite a bit when my men and I first came to Kinlochan," Sebastien said. "He seems used to my presence now."

"He has seen Cormac MacNechtan many times, but he acts as if Cormac is the devil's spawn each time."

"Ah, your Finan is a good judge of men, then."

"Not always," she observed. "He would defend me to the death if I needed it, but most of the time he seems to have very little wit. Finan
Mor\
Here!"

Sebastien urged the dog back toward her. "He's confused," he said. "He wonders why we wander about in the dark when we could be inside"—he bent as the dog returned to him, and rubbed his head—"lying beside a great fire, sleeping while the humans listen to stories, eh, my lad. There you go, back to your lady."

Alainna patted the dog's head. Sebastien came close. "He is devoted to you, that hound," he said mildly. "See how he looks at you, so eager to please. He will do whatever you want of him. 'Tis a gift to inspire such devotion in a creature."

"Ach,
there is nothing to it. A pat on the head makes him silly with delight." She stroked the dog's head and glanced at Sebastien. "You are among the few who know Finan's secret now."

He tilted his head. "Secret?"

"Finan
Mor
is more than a fierce hunting hound," she said. "He is a fool for cuddling."

"Ah." Sebastien laughed. Alainna smiled. His heart gave an odd lurch. "The fiercest creatures might be rendered gentle by the hand of such a lady," he murmured.

She turned away without answer and went to the pillar stone. Finan bounded beside her, then looped back toward Sebastien.

Sebastien glanced up at the stone, examining it in the shadows. It stood nearly twice as tall as he was and twice as wide, and was covered, front and back, with strangely beautiful incised designs.

"We have standing stones in Brittany," he said. "Out in fields like this, or beside streams. Thousands of them, old as the hills. Some are immense, and some have symbols carved on them, and some have stories connected to them of sacrifice, or magic, or miracles."

She said nothing, but he sensed that she listened closely.

"The stones were put there by ancient Bretons," he said.

"A Celtic people, they were. Our language is not unlike yours."

"Are you descended from a Celtic bloodline?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It could be. Tell me about this stone."

She flattened her palm against the granite. "This is our Stone Maiden, who has watched over Clan Laren for generations. The Maiden was a daughter of Clan Laren, long ago." She drew her hand over the stone as if she soothed a friend. "But her magic, some say, endures no more. It may be that she is... weary. She has been trapped inside this stone for a very long time."

Sebastien watched her, and idly scratched the dog's head. "I would like to hear her story."

"I may tell you someday. If you are still here."

"I will be here for a while, at least." He paused as a thin, eerie, nearly human cry rose out in the darkness somewhere and faded. The sound sent chills up his spine. "What was that?"

"A wildcat," she said. "They are about at night here, especially up in the hills. As are wolves. And boars, as we know quite well."

"In winter such animals are hungrier and even more fierce. Best that you are never out here alone, my lady."

"I am protected here beside the Maiden," she said simply, placing a hand on the stone. "I come here often by myself to make offerings on behalf of my clan. I have always been safe."

"I admire your faith in tradition, but a little caution on your part would ease my mind."

"Why should I bother to ease your mind?" she asked crisply.

"You are to be my wife," he pointed out. "Lady Alainna, I know that the news I brought you is not easy to bear. The king's orders were not welcome to me, either."

She said nothing, silhouetted in the dark beside the stone.

"I told you in Dunfermline that I have other plans. They still stand. I must return to Brittany to attend to... some important matters. Personal matters."

She nodded again, silent. He frowned. The passion that seemed so strong in her was diminished. He did not want to be responsible for any subduing of her spirit, but feared he was.

The dog nudged against her and sat on his haunches, watching her with pure devotion. She touched his head, bending, the rippled fall of her hair a shining cloak.

"What was it you wanted, if you did not want to marry a Scottish wife for a Scottish grant?" she asked.

"I have always intended to settle in Brittany when my knight service is done. I have... strong ties there. The longer I stay in Scotland, the more I risk to lose in Brittany."

"Then leave," she said simply.

"I gave my pledge to the king. This arrangement is for your benefit as well. You need our protection here."

"I need no one's protection."

"Your clan does," he reminded her. "And I think you would do anything for your clan."

She lifted her head. "I would."

"Even marry a Norman."

"I will not marry a Norman if it means harm to my clan, or the loss of our lands."

"I am not the Celtic champion you wanted, but there is no other available to you, by king's order."

She patted the dog and said nothing.

"My lady," he said, "we are both caught in this predicament. If we dispute it or refuse, the king will grant the land to someone else entirely. That man might be inclined to toss elders out into the cold and mistreat you, where I am not so inclined. We both have no choice but to accept, and to tolerate the situation."

"You are asking for peace between us."

"Peace, or a truce."

"Tell me this, Sebastien le Bret." He liked his name on her lips, like the susurration of wind over water. "Will you take my clan's name for your own?"

He paused. "I cannot do that." He would say only that. Kinship and home were natural rights in her world. How could she understand how much his simple, self-created name meant to him?

"Will you allow our children to bear the name of MacLaren, rather than Le Bret?"

He sighed, thinking of Conan, and hardly daring to think of other children in the shadowed future. "I cannot agree to that either, my lady."

"Then," she said, "we will have no peace between us. And I do not know how we can have a marriage." She stepped away, turning past the stone to disappear into its shadow. Finan followed her.

Chapter 8