Read The Knights of Christmas Online

Authors: Suzanne Barclay

The Knights of Christmas (10 page)

BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
7.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
“Duncan.” She leaned back, hands on his chest. “You're taller and...broader...than I remembered.”
“Fighting builds muscles.”
She shivered. “Don't speak of it. Every night I prayed for God to bring you back safely to us.”
“I..I feared you'd given up and wed someone else,” he teased, but his chest was so tight he could scarcely breathe. Please. Please let her have found someone.
“Nay. We made a pact, you and I. Oh, Duncan, I'm so very, very glad you've come home.”
“I, too.” But as he looked around at the stark walls of Threave, he felt anything but at home. A crowd had gathered, many of them glaring at him as they used to.
Ingrate. Son of a whore. Fortune hunter. The words crept through the throng, icy as a killing frost.
I don't want to be here, Duncan silently cried.
“Duncan, did you make your fortune?” Janet whispered.
“Aye,” he said dully. “I vowed I'd not return without it. And I'd not break that oath.”
“Of course.” She smiled up at him as though he'd granted her fondest wish. “Oh, Duncan, I am so happy. Father will be livid.” She chuckled. “I've prayed for this day. I've longed for your return. We must talk in private. Make plans—”
“Laird Niall wants ye in the hall,” growled the captain of Threave's guard, a great brute of a man who'd taken pleasure in whipping Duncan whenever he stepped out of line.
“I'd speak with my betrothed in private,” Janet said.
Mangus's lip curled. “Himself said now.”
Janet sighed. “Very well.”
On leaden feet, Duncan followed Janet across the courtyard up the stairs to the entryway and through it to the great hall. Dinner was in progress, the servants passing platters of food to the orderly rows of diners. The rushes crunched beneath his heel, giving off the sweet scent of rosemary. Whitewash brightened the walls, colorful tapestries softened their austerity. Dozens of flambeaux in rings on the walls illuminated the scene, but the people were cold and stiff.
When he was younger, the orderly way of life at Threave had seemed to him the epitome of grace and civility. A goal to be sought, a way to wipe out the stain of his mother's impropriety. Now it seemed stark, cold and oppressive.
“So, you have returned.” The voice was not loud. Niall Leslie never shouted. But it carried the length of the hall, stilling all talk and turning heads toward the threshold, where Duncan stood with Janet.
Duncan straightened his shoulders and advanced toward the figure seated at the table on the raised dais. Dimly he was conscious of the censorious folk he passed and of Janet's sweaty hand clenched tight in his. Mostly he felt a sense of loss.
“Duncan,” Cousin Niall inclined his head of close-cropped gray hair. “Have you gained that which you sought, or do you crawl back here a failure like your—”
Duncan tossed the sack of rubies onto the table. The grim satisfaction he felt when Niall beheld the treasure inside paled beside the grinding ache in his heart.
“Hmm.” Cousin Niall leaned back in his chair. Fingering his pointy chin, he regarded Duncan and his daughter as he might two bugs that had invaded his tidy bed. He had the face of a hawk, eyes as cold as a witch's soul. “So, there's to be a wedding?”
Duncan drew in a steadying breath, then exhaled. “Aye.” May God help us both.
Chapter Ten
 
 
T
he first winter storm struck on Christmas Eve day, but it didn't deter the folk of Edin from bringing in the Yule log. Trailing snow, faces red from the cold, they paraded the log around the great hall to the raucous lilt of the pipes then placed it in the hearth with due ceremony.
Surrounded by her merry kin, Kara felt as close to happy as she got these days. The familiar sights, sounds and smells of the festive season were a balm to her aching heart. It had been a relief, actually, to turn her thoughts away from her private pain and attend to the myriad of tasks. She must carry on without Duncan. What choice did she have?
“The hall looks that grand,” Fergie commented.
Kara grinned, eyes sweeping from the garlands strung along the beams of the ceiling. Interwoven with the ivy were sprigs of holly to keep the fairies away, and sprays of yew decorated the center of every table. “That it does.”
“We've much to be thankful for.”
“Aye.” She hugged his waist, pleased by the strength of his lean muscles. “Most of all, I'm grateful you're well.”
“Well, I'm glad the MacGorys are not about. If only...”
“Do not say it, Fergie,” she whispered. “Duncan would have come back ere now if he were free.”
“'Twould have been better if he'd never come.”
 
“If he hadn't, the MacGorys would be living at Edin Tower.”
Fergie grunted. “That's true enough, but—”
“None of that. We'll not be ruining the best season of the year with useless regrets.” Kara whirled him about and gently shoved him toward a bench. “The lads are about to sing.”
When they were seated, the gillean Nollaig, the Christmas lads, chosen for their sweet voices, stepped forward. Clad in long white shirts of bleached wool, tall white hats on their heads, they began to chant the traditional songs.
They finished with the first song, and the leader bent to the cradle by the hearth and lifted out Brighde's wee Donald Duncan, the babe chosen to play the part of the Cristean. Wrapping the little Christ in the skin of a male lamb, the lads carried him sunwise three times around the hall. As they went, the gillean sang the Christmas hail.
A shout rang from the ceiling as wee Donnie was returned to the cradle, and the tower folk rushed forward to lay small offerings around the Cristean. A crock of honey, tiny buns dotted with currants, a carved wooden horse and woolen booties. All the while, he cooed and waved his hands as though blessing them.
Cups were raised to the triumphs of the past year and prayers offered to thank the gods, both old and new. The feast that followed went on joyously all through the day. It stopped snowing at dusk, and the gillean marched out, followed by a goodly number of merrymakers, to visit the nearby crofts.
That first day set the tone for the week of festive celebrations. Kara was in the thick of things, overseeing the preparation of special meals, organizing games for the children. She danced till her feet hurt, smiled till her cheeks ached. But before she closed her eyes each night, she'd stare deep into the small fire in her corner hearth, seeking a vision that never came. Duncan must have wed his Janet, she reasoned, else he'd have come back to her as he promised.
Heartbroken, she'd bury her face in her pillow and cry herself to sleep. But there was no escape there, either, for she dreamed of Duncan. Rich, vivid dreams of their night together. Dreams so real she awoke sweaty, aroused and disappointed to find 'twas not his arms wrapped around her but the twisted bed linens.
By New Year's Eve day, she was weary and hollow eyed. Still she joined the folk of Edin as they left the tower, bearing torches on eight-foot poles. Around the loch they paraded, in an ancient ceremony intended to drive out evil and insure prosperity. The sound of the pipes rose in the air, mixing with icy bits of snow. When the hourglass showed midnight had come, they piled up the torches, formed a circle around them and watched till the fire had died out before retiring to their beds.
Facing another dream-filled night, Kara volunteered to stay up and make certain the fire in the great hall did not go out. Likewise, candles would be kept burning in the windows to insure that evil would be kept from the tower in the coming year.
Eoin, Fergie and Black Roily sat with her for a time. She forgot her own sorrows as she listened to their tales of long ago, and even laughed when Fergie told about the Hogmanay he was chosen to play the part of the bull. Dressed in a hide, including the horns and hooves, he led the procession from croft to croft. At every farm, they climbed to the flat edge of the thatched roof and enacted their little drama.
Fergie shook his horns and bellowed; the other lads chanted and struck him with sticks to keep him under control, while the pipers played. The noise was horrific, but once the ritual was complete, the farmers would come out of their huts to pass around cakes and ale.
“We visited nigh every croft in the valley, so they tell us. By the time we reached the last one, we'd had so much ale we none of us were too nimble. Still we climbed onto the roof. Promptly lost our balance and fell backward. Right through the thatch, we went, and straight down into the hearth. They couldn't get the stink of burned cowhide out of the place for a year.”
Everyone roared with laughter, and that tale blended into the next. But eventually, the others drifted off to seek their beds, leaving Kara alone with her thoughts.
She too found it easier to look backward than forward. As she stared into the sacred blaze of the Chulluinn fire, she searched over every moment she'd spent with Duncan. Nay, she did not regret loving him. In the flickering flames, she saw them dancing as they had Samhuinn eve, and the magic lifted her soul. Warmed by the fire and her memories, she drifted.
“Kara?”
She started, surprised to find Eoin standing over her. More surprised to find pale light glowing behind the oiled hides that covered the hall's narrow windows. “The fire...”
“Still burns brightly,” he assured her. “I came to tell you we've had a signal. Riders sighted coming down the valley.”
Her heart lurched. “How many?”
“Three score, mayhap more.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped, then fear intruded. “Invaders?”
“Nay. The lads would have sounded the alarm if the pass had been attacked. The men ride slowly, openly, like invited guests.”
“Father Luthais, then, though he usually comes alone.”
“I thought ye'd like to wash the sleep from yer eyes and don a skirt that doesn't look as though ye slept in it.”
Kara cuffed his arm and dashed upstairs. On her bed lay the deep green tunic and matching skirt she'd planned to wear for this most special of days. She donned them in a trice, mind leaping ahead to seeing Father Luthais again. He was dear little gnome of a man.
 
Back down the stairs she went, arriving breathless in the hall just as a knock sounded on the stout wooden door. The other folk of Edin dropped what they were doing and froze, waiting to see who would cross the threshold, for 'twas believed that the first foot to enter the hall was a portent for the coming year.
Fergie walked slowly to the door and opened it.
Snow swirled into the room, bringing with it the tang of clean, crisp air and a big man wrapped in a thick cloak. Its hood obscured his features, but he was too tall for Father Luthais.
“Damn, but 'tis cold,” exclaimed the man in a muffled voice. He shook like a dog shedding water, then flung aside the cloak.
“Duncan!” Kara cried. “It's you.”
“Aye.” The red, chapped skin about his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “A bit frozen, but none the worse for—”
“Duncan!” Kara launched herself at him with such force she drove him back into the men who stood behind him.
“Easy, love.” He laughed and hugged her so tightly she couldn't breathe. “You'll bruise the gift I brought you.”
“You are all the gift I want.” She buried her face in the cold folds of his neck. “What of Janet?”
“Later. I'll tell you all of it later.” He stroked her back, then set her on the ground. “First, I have to see to our men.”
“Our men?” Kara echoed. Looking behind him, she saw a throng of dark-clad men file into the room. “Who—?”
“MacLellans,” Duncan said proudly. “Eight and twenty stout lads come to see if life in Edin Valley will suit them. If you'll give us leave to settle here, that is.”
“Us?” Kara repeated. “You mean, you've come to stay?”
“If you'll have me,” he said with the first note of uncertainty she'd yet heard.
“If!” Kara's mouth rounded. “Oh...”
“Course she will.” Fergie waded through the crowd of wide-eyed Gleanedins. “We'll summon Father Luthais from Kindo—”
“I'm already here.” The wee priest stepped around two of Duncan's clansmen and grinned at Kara. “I was that surprised when yon knight turned up at the church door yestereve. But when I heard what he wanted, I was only too happy to trek through the snow for the pleasure of seeing Kara wed.”
 
The wedding was held that afternoon, in the great hall decked with ivy, holly and mistletoe. It was a mix of pagan and Christian, as was only proper, Duncan had said, for the joining of a redheaded witch and a Crusader knight.
The bride wore a garland of holly and a tunic of finest wool in a brilliant gold that matched her eyes. A gift from her groom. He was resplendent in forest green and a smile so wide it put dimples in his cheeks. Father Luthais conducted the ceremony in the great hall, for there was no kirk.
“Come spring, we'll build one,” Duncan said, raising a cup to toast his new-made wife.
“Hmm. Well...” Kara glanced uncertainly at the old ones, Morag and those who still kept to the ancient ways. “I don't know.”
“'Twill be a joining of the old and new. A tribute to God for leading me here to you.” Duncan's arm tightened around Kara, the fire in his eyes warming her clear to her toes. There'd been no chance for them to be alone together, but soon...
“An excellent idea,” Father Luthais said.
“I dunno,” Morag muttered.
“We could put it on the side of the hill,” Duncan said softly. “Leaving free the crest where the sacred fires burn at Beltane and Samhuinn. That way the people may have both.”
Morag sniffed. “Ye're a right canny lad, fer an outlander.” Drawing her robe about her withered body, she limped off toward the hearth. “We'll see, come spring,” she added.
“'Tis a sound idea,” Fergie said. Eyes twinkling, he glanced at the crowded trestle tables, where Duncan's broad-shouldered MacLellans broke bread with the Gleanedins. “They're a likely looking bunch.”
“Our lassies seem to think so,” Kara said, noting the women buzzing about them like flies to honey. “Come spring, we may be needing that kirk for a host of weddings.”
“And baptisms,” Father Luthais added. “Mayhap I'd best hang about for a fortnight or two...in case I'm needed.”
“Ye're more than welcome.” Fergie threw an arm about the priest's shoulders. “Come sample the mead.”
As the two men wandered off through the crowd, Kara felt Duncan tug her back toward the door.
“What?” she whispered.
“Come away with me.”
“But you've not had your supper.”
“I'm not hungry...for food.”
Suddenly, neither was she.
Hand in hand, they slipped from the hall and across the entryway to the stairwell. Barely had they gained the steps, when a shout warned their escape had been noted.
“Run,” Duncan cried.
Lifting her skirts, Kara dashed up the stairs with Duncan pounding after her. Propelled by the clatter of their pursuers, they reached the upper hall, hurtled down it and into Kara's room. Duncan kicked the door shut behind them and shoved the bar into its bracket.
“Let us in.” The latch rattled.
“Not on your life,” Duncan called. “Take them downstairs and get them drunk, Fergie,” he added, laughing.
There were a few grumbles about being cheated of the bedding ceremony, but finally her uncle coaxed the crowd away.
 
Kara collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for air. “I thought sure they'd catch us.”
“Never.” Duncan sprawled beside her, his breathing ragged. “They had not half the incentive I have.”
She met his gaze, her senses ignited by the fire glowing there. Her heart skipped a beat, then slammed into the next. “I can scarcely believe you are here.”
BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
7.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Corpse Reader by Garrido, Antonio
Up In A Heaval by Anthony, Piers
Tempest by Rose, Dahlia
Expiación by Ian McEwan
The Flesh Cartel by Rachel Haimowitz, Heidi Belleau
The Ascension by Kailin Gow
Lost Girl: Hidden Book One by Vanderlinden, Colleen
The Lawson Boys: Marty by Angela Verdenius