Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] (47 page)

"About Ruari MacWilliam?"

"It is possible the man is gone, as the rumors say. But I intend to emphasize to the king that Ruari
Mor
was never a threat to the crown. Even if he is found, I will say, there is no need to pursue him or to arrest him."

Ruari stared out over the loch, and after a moment, nodded.

Chapter 29

Sebastien stood in the bailey, the wind gentle upon his face. The feast day of Saint Brighid had dawned rosy and mild, brightening further as the morning progressed. He stood with the others in a circle, all of them wearing their finest garments. He wore chain mail beneath his green surcoat, with the dark green plaid wrapped over his shoulders for a mantle, and the wolfskin boots Alainna had given him wrapped tight with leather thongs. Standing quietly, he watched as Alainna entered the circle.

She looked like the blessing of spring itself, and he knew in that moment that he had never loved her more. As she strolled the inside of the ring, she stopped to murmur to each person in turn. Dressed simply in her gray tunic over a pale linen chemise, she wore a crown of white snowdrops and delicate violets on her unbound hair, which fell in a mass of rippled, coppery silk; her eyes were like bluebells, and her cheeks were flushed pink.

Sebastien knew that the day before the women had gone out to search for flowers newly budded in sunny, rocky crevices. Even though snow still coated much of the ground, the long grasses had begun to green again, and the women had returned with the snowdrops and violets.

They had spent the evening wrapping the blossoms into a wreath for Alainna to wear the following day, and then they had made small dolls from dried rushes, meant to be figures of Saint Brighid, the reeds woven in patterns that would bring good fortune. Sebastien smiled as he remembered their laughter as they decorated the dolls.

Alainna walked sunwise around the inner side of the circle and bowed her head before each person, murmuring a question and holding out her hands for the gifts they gave her.

"We each give something to the Maiden, you see," Una whispered to Sebastien, standing beside him. "Alainna accepts as Brighid, and as the Maiden. Later she will lay the offerings at the foot of the pillar stone."

Sebastien nodded. Alainna had told him about the gifting the evening before, and he had thought about what to contribute, knowing that it should be simple and meaningful. He watched as Alainna accepted each offering graciously: an apple from Beitris, a handful of nuts from Aenghus, a horseshoe from Lulach, a birch wand from Niall, and one of rowan from Ruari.

One of the young squires followed her with a basket to hold the things: a red thread, knotted and charmed, from Morag, a few carrots from Donal, a folded plaid from Esa, a white, polished stone from Giric.

Even the knights, a few of whom had remained after Robert and others had departed three days earlier, seemed to know what to do, Sebastien noticed. Richard gave her a silver coin and Etienne a handful of snowdrops to match those in her hair, and the other two, Walter and William, offered her pretty stones.

Then Alainna stood in front of Sebastien. She smiled up at him. "What will you give the Maiden?" she asked, as she had asked each one before him.

He reached out and took her chin in his hand, tipping her face toward him, and leaned down. He kissed her, gentle and lingering, on the lips. "My heart," he whispered, "to keep forever."

She looked at him in silence, her eyes blue and deep and filled with love. A pleased murmur ran through the circle of those who watched. Alainna smiled and moved past him. Una gave her a handful of oats tied in a cloth, and Lome handed her a shining smoky crystal.

When she had circuited the group, she led the way toward the gate, which stood open. They followed in a procession, with the women behind her and the men after them, Sebastien, Lome, and Giric falling naturally into the lead.

Light glistened on the surface of the loch, and the waves drifted to shore in a slow cadence. They walked past the end of the loch and approached its opposite bank.

The gray granite pillar of the Stone Maiden stood tall and silvery in the early sunlight, as if polished for this day. Alainna approached the pillar, and the rest of them formed a wide ring around it. Sebastien watched as Alainna went, with the slender young squire behind her, to lay the offerings at the foot of the pillar. Then the squire ran back to join his comrades, and Alainna faced the great stone, chisel and mallet in her hand.

She circled sunwise around the stone, and Sebastien heard her voice lift in a softly chanted list of names.

"She recites the genealogy of Saint Brighid," Una told Sebastien as he leaned down toward the old woman. "Then she will say the genealogy of Alainna of Kinlochan, the maiden caught within the stone. Now, hear, she offers a charm to Brighid, and to the Maiden who protects this clan."

Alainna stepped around to face the stone, head lifted. "Brighid of the mantles, Mary mild, and Alainna the Maiden, the nine pure graces are yours, gifts of the angels who shield us always." She bowed her head as if waiting, then continued.

Be the bright flame before us

Be the guiding star above us

Be the smooth path beneath us

Today, tonight, and forever.

She knelt and smoothed her hand over the row of lines engraved in the stone like the embroidered hem of a gown. Angling the chisel at the end of the row, she struck the tool with the mallet, and struck again, until another mark appeared in the face of the stone. Once more she swept her hand over the granite, as if to soothe the wound. Then she rose to her feet and turned, bathed in a stream of thin sunlight.

"We thank the faeries who protected our Maiden, and we thank Alainna the Maiden for watching over her people. The spell is ended," she said. "The Maiden is free."

The circle of people stood quietly, as if waiting. Alainna stood like a slim, beautiful pillar herself, while the breeze sifted through the bright strands of her hair.

Sebastien could not take his gaze from her. He caught his breath inwardly as a subtle, powerful force moved through him. He felt as if the last stone in the wall surrounding his heart shifted and fell away. Alainna turned her head and her gaze touched his, and he held it gently, knowing that she was part of him, and he of her.

He knew, too, that he must leave her soon, as they had implicitly agreed he would do. Spring had come, and the time-between-times was ended, and decisions must be made.

He had a young son, alone and small, who needed him more than this strong, beautiful woman needed him, more than these proud, loving people needed him. His going would break the bond of their handfasting, and break his heart and hers, he knew, but he had to leave.

He desperately wanted to return to her, but one decision remained. Although he told himself that the issue of the name did not matter, he was not able to abandon his name and his identity so easily. His pride was still strong in what he had gained for himself, in who he was.

Loving Alainna had challenged every part of him, down to the bedrock of his soul. But carving a new identity for himself was not so easily done.

He saw a haunting sadness in her eyes as she looked at him. Then she walked away from the stone and through the circle, and the people turned to follow her. Sebastien fell into step with Lome and Ruari, and glanced up at the hills surrounding the loch.

He halted and held up a hand to the men closest to him. Ruari, Lome, and Giric stopped. "We are not the only ones who have come to see the last mark made in the Stone Maiden," he said. "Look."

At the top of a long hill that overlooked the loch, a host of men stood, plaids and braids blowing in the breeze. Cormac, his brother, Struan, and nearly forty MacNechtans watched them, still and menacing. Then they began to walk down the hill.

The MacNechtans had no women among them, as Clan Laren did, Sebastien noted; they had not come to watch the ceremony. Armed, grim, and glaring, they were prepared for battle.

Near Sebastien, the others turned, and gasps rippled among them. The small gathering parted as Alainna walked past them to meet the MacNechtans.

Reaching out, Sebastien took Alainna's arm. "Be wary," he said. "They do not come here seeking peace."

"They might," she said. "The chief of Clan Laren and the chief of Clan Nechtan have always met on the day of the marking of the Maiden. It is part of the tradition. Truces have been declared then, and our clans have had periods of peace in the past. This is the day the old spell ends. It is the right time to begin a new era for our clans."

"That may be the tradition, but you cannot trust this man," he said. "Alainna, stay back. It is not safe for you to do this. Let me negotiate with him."

"You," she said, "have no interest in negotiating with him."

He frowned. She turned, and he strode beside her as she went toward the MacNechtans, who halted at the foot of the hill. Alainna paused, facing Cormac in the open middle area.

Sebastien stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword, a silent and alert guard. Cormac glowered at him. Sebastien returned a flat, even stare.

"Cormac MacNechtan," Alainna said. "I ask you formally, before all, as is custom on the day of the marking of the stone, if you will agree to peace between us. The deaths of the Maiden and of the first Nechtan have been avenged over and over, to ten times a thousand. You and I can end this long and bitter and pointless feud, and put forth forgiveness."

"I do not ask your forgiveness," Cormac said brusquely. "I do not offer you mine. I came here to talk of more important matters than forgiveness."

"What, then?" Alainna asked.

"The power of the Stone Maiden has ended. I have long waited for this day. Your protection is at an end."

"Her protection continues," Sebastien said curtly.

Cormac laughed harshly. "A few knights sent by the king?"

"A husband," Sebastien drawled. He knew, with a powerful and certain conviction, that the vows he had taken with Alainna had bound him to her, and her to him. Nothing could undo that. His heart pounded hard as he faced Cormac, and as he felt Alainna's gaze, soft and wondering, upon him.

"Husband!" Cormac barked. "You!"

"I told you that I would choose," Alainna said quickly. "It is done. You cannot claim Kinlochan, or me."

Cormac's face flushed dark and his eyes glittered. "A husband is only a barrier so long as he is alive."

Sebastien tensed, ready to pull his weapon, but he stared calmly at Cormac. "You have no more dispute with these people. Take your men and go, or stay and fight me alone. Either way, you will never gain what you want here."

Cormac grinned slowly. "I have forty strong men at my back, and you have a handful of knights, with old men and old women."

"Would you fight elders?" Alainna asked, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Your father would never have done that, or his father and kinsmen before him."

"Tell the old ones to go home," Cormac said curtly. "I will not fight them. My dispute is with the Norman, doubly so now that he has taken my rightful place as your husband." He looked at Sebastien with narrowed eyes. "And I see you found Ruari MacWilliam. I came here to escort him to the crown myself, since you neglected to do it."

"MacWilliam is no threat to the crown," Sebastien said.

Cormac looked at Alainna. "You are the chief here, not this one. Your kinsman Ruari is a traitor. Will you witness a battle now, in front of your Stone Maiden, or will you order MacWilliam to come with me and face king's justice?"

"Ruari is no traitor," Alainna said. "He will stay here."

"Fine," Cormac bit out. "I will see all of your kinsmen killed this day, and your husband, too. This can only gain me what I want. Else give me the traitor, and avoid the bloodshed. Decide, girl!" he ordered. He grabbed the handle of his dirk. Behind him, his men stepped forward.

Sebastien slithered his sword free with the swift whooshing sound of steel drawn from leather. "Tell your men to stand down. This is between you and me, and no one else. Alainna, get back," he warned.

She turned. Sebastien watched with a sense of slowed time as she whirled, and her hair spun out behind her.