Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03] (44 page)

Smiling in anticipation, he set the steel aside to lose its heat. He would return later to transform the lump of metal into the blade he pictured in his mind: a small, beautiful thruster sword, a twin to the one he had repaired and hidden away, never to be used again. This second one he meant as a gift for his wife. His betrothed, he corrected himself; the wedding was soon. Very soon, and he had best hurry if he was to attend it.

He noticed the grime and charcoal traces on his hands, and the sweat slicking his bare forearms. As he rinsed his hands in the dousing tub, he heard a light rapping at the door.

Simon stepped inside, greeting Lachlann with a wave. Several others crowded the step behind him. Through the doorway, the night sky sparkled like diamonds on black velvet.

"Are you ready?" Simon asked.

"In a moment," he answered.

"But we are here, smith, and eager to see this wedding," Iain Og said, and shoved open the door. "You will just have to put down your hammer and tongs for a while. Though we will not say what set of hammer and tongs you will be using later." He guffawed, and someone laughed, but Iain Og was rapped on the shoulder for his quip by Mairi MacKerron, who came inside after him. Lachlann went to his foster mother and embraced her, glad to feel her cool, practical kiss on his cheek.

"You have not cleaned up," she said, patting his sweat-dampened shirt. "And it is time for your wedding!"

"I thought all of you would come later," he said.

"It is later," she said. "You were lost in your work."

He chuckled at the truth of that, and stood with her while the others entered the warm, dim smithy. He greeted them, smiling at each familiar face, all of them dear to him, some of them known to him all his life.

The five male MacArthur cousins came inside, followed by their sister, Margaret, and Angus, who each carried a little one. Alpin followed, escorting Ninian with a hand on his shoulder. Then Eva entered.

Lachlann's gaze softened as he watched her. She wore a simple gown of dark red wool, with an
arisaid
of brown and red fastened by the silver circlet he had repaired for her. Her hair, loosened and glossy as midnight, was glorious around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him.

He noted, too, the lush rounding of her breasts beneath her gown, and her body, taut where she carried the child that only the two of them knew about as yet.

Blacksmiths like their secrets, he thought, smiling.

He reached out to take her hand. "You look like a flame,
mo caran,"
he whispered, kissing her cheek. "You look beautiful."

"And you could use a little scrubbing, my handsome, brawny smith." She laughed, resting her hand on his bare arm. "But that can wait. I love you like this, with the traces of your strength and your work upon you," she confided in a whisper. "I have some rose petals for your bath later, if you want."

"It is not flowers I want in the bath," he murmured, and turned with her to face the others. "I have an announcement," he said, raising his voice over the happy chattering.

"We know—you are getting married," Andra said. The others laughed, and Lachlann smiled, waiting for quiet.

"I wanted to tell you—and Eva—that I am leaving for Perth in a few days," he said.

Eva's grip tightened on his arm. "Perth!"

"Only for a little while," he assured her. "I have requested an audience with the king to discuss the MacArthur situation, which is still uncertain following... the events of weeks ago."

"Why would the king listen to a bladesmith," Eva asked, "even if you are a knight, and acted as a messenger for him?"

"He might listen to a king's cousin," he said. "My mother, Aileen Stewart, was second cousin to the royal Stewarts."

Astonished, she looked up at him, then glanced at Mairi, who nodded in confirmation.

"The Stewarts of Glen Brae are closely related to the king," Mairi said. "So Lachlann can claim that kinship as well. I think it is a good idea. The king may remember Aileen Stewart for her beauty and kind heart, and he might be inclined to consider mercy for the MacArthurs."

Lachlann looked down at Eva. "It is worth the chance."

She nodded. "Then I did not need Colin's influence after all to help us. I had you to help, all along."

"You always had me, Eva," he murmured.

She smiled, her hand clasped in his. "Perhaps Donal will be here with us by the new year. Lachlann, I dreamed about him the other night. He was with us at Innisfarna again, and he and Simon were bouncing our children on their knees."

He cocked a brow. "Children?"

"Two little girls," she whispered to him. "Aeife and Jehanne, you called them, in my dream." Her chin quivered a little as she said it, and her eyes shone with tears.

He could not answer for the tightness in his throat.

"Ho, blacksmith," Iain Og said. "Are you ready now?"

Lachlann nodded, and led the way across the room to the anvil. Ninian carefully removed a pair of tongs and a hammer from the anvil surface and set them on the edge of the forge. Then he smiled up at Lachlann openly, without hiding his scarred mouth, with its feline, strangely elegant shape. His blue eyes twinkled.

Lachlann rested a hand on the boy's golden head. "You will be a good smith one day, if you want to be," he said. "And I could use an apprentice. Soon Eva will be too busy to spend much time in here with me," he added. Ninian grinned and nodded, and Eva smiled at them both.

"Tell us, blacksmith," Simon said, when all of them gathered in a partial circle around the anvil. "Have you ever performed a wedding?"

"I have not, but Finlay did so several times. A wedding at the forge is an ancient tradition," he told them. "Back in the time of the mists, before the Christian priests, it is said that smiths were essential members of their villages, gifted with the knowledge of transforming and joining metals. So it was deemed appropriate for smiths to bind couples in marriage. The tradition is hardly used anymore, but it will do well for us." He smiled down at Eva.

"You will want a priest later, but this will do until the priest comes to our glen again," Mairi said, nodding.

Simon took his sister's arm and positioned her in front of the anvil, facing the forge. "We will witness your marriage," he said. "I always thought you two were well suited," he added. "Donal thought so, too."

Eva glanced at him. "Donal? When did he say so?"

"Years ago, when your betrothal with Colin was first discussed, Donal told Father that you would be happier wed to Lachlann the smith's son, who would care for you and treat you well, and whose talents would be an asset to the clan. He said that you could not wed a finer man than the smith's lad."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "I never knew that."

"Donal never told you, for our father was adamant about his choice for you. So you see," Simon said affectionately, kissing her cheek, "you have the approval of your clan chief, too."

She turned, smiling tremulously, to face Lachlann. He stood across the anvil from her in his usual place, with the fire warming his back. "If we pledge our hearts in marriage to one another in the eyes of God, we do not need witnesses or a priest in the land of Scotland. Yet these witnesses are welcome to share this with us, and to take it into their hearts as we take it into ours."

He held out his hands. Eva took his fingers, across the anvil, and he felt her hands tremble slightly.

He looked down at her, with her eyes storm-colored and softened with unshed tears. In the rich light of the forge, she glowed in his eyes.

"I take you for my wife, Eva MacArthur," he murmured. "Over this anvil, with strength of iron and warmth of fire, in the eyes of these witnesses and in the presence of God, I make this marriage with you. This will endure forever," he added, his gaze deep in hers.

"I take you for my husband, Lachlann MacKerron," she murmured, and repeated the words he had said, words that came from his heart, and chimed out now in her mellow, loving voice. "To endure forever."

"Let it be forged between us," he whispered, and bent to kiss her with the anvil between them, and the light and heat of the fire upon them, and the love of the others in a ring around them.

Then, in a blur of laughter and sniffling embraces, he received the congratulations of all those he loved so well. And at last, eager to reach Eva, he stepped around the anvil and gathered her into his arms.

He kissed her, deep and endless, while the cheers rose around them. Drawing back, he brushed at a wayward strand of her hair. "This marriage was made between us long before this moment, my friend," he whispered. "We began forging it long ago. But something so good and so strong, and so very valuable takes a long time, and a lot of care."

"Then we will continue to work on it, smith," she answered, smiling up at him, "day and night."

"Ah," he said, wrapping an arm around her, "now that we will do."

The End

Page forward for more from Susan King.

Dear Reader,

A company of Scots guards serving in the French court were assigned by the Dauphin to ride with Joan of Arc, and many, like Lachlann in this story, were loyal to her; many died in her service. During the Hundred Years' War, thousands of Scots went to France to assist against the English, and those that survived were sometimes rewarded with land, titles and knighthoods. Other details in the story are also based on historical fact; Joan's sword, called the sword of Saint Catherine of Fierbois, revealed to her in a dream and discovered in a chapel at Fierbois exactly as she indicated, was apparently broken. Though the facts are unknown (speculation says she broke it in a fit of temper), a blacksmith declared it impossible to repair. Joan admitted that the sword had broken but she would not say what happened to it.

Smiths were essential craftsmen in medieval society and their skills were imbued with mystery. In Scotland, blacksmithing and bladesmithing were well developed, and although steel weapons were most often imported from Europe, swordmaking in Scotland originated with Celtic as well as Viking smiths. Rob Miller, a bladesmith from the Isle of Skye, shared with me some valuable insights into the old traditions and processes of this ancient craft. His work can be seen at
www.castlekeep.co.uk
.

I hope you enjoyed
The Sword Maiden.
To learn more about my books or to contact me, please visit my websites,
www.susanfraserking.com
, and
www.susankingbooks.com
. I'm also part of the Word Wenches blog at
www.wordwenches.com
.

Happy Reading!

Susan King