Arsenic and Old Armor (2 page)

“
Indeed,” Judith whispered
with glee. “Just in time!”

“
I fear I cannot,” the
young man replied quickly. “We haven’t much time, ladies. We need
to move all of you to Blackthorn Hall.”

The two sisters looked at each other in
confusion. Brother Luke asked what he knew had to be the
inevitable. “What happened?”

“
We lost, Uncle,” Iain said
thickly.

“
Will my brother John be
coming back today, as well?” Margaret asked in her high pitched
voice.

Iain cleared his throat before answering.
“No, m’lady. He is not coming back today. I have much to explain,
but time is running short. We must move you all first. I shall
explain all when we are safe at Blackthorn.”

“
But the dinner is ready.”
Margaret motioned toward the feast spread on the table.

“
Indeed.” Judith nodded
enthusiastically. “It is all ready.”

Iain looked desperately at his uncle.

“
Tell them all of it,”
Brother Luke advised. “Briefly, if you must, but tell
them.”

The young man’s weary face turned to the
older sister. “We lost, Lady Margaret. We were slaughtered in the
battle. The king is dead. So is my father, and so is your brother,
the good Earl of Fleet. But we have no time to mourn now, my
ladies…for the English are surely coming.”

At the sound of the gasp, all eyes were
drawn to the arched doorway leading to the kitchens and a circular
stairwell. The hem of Marion’s dress could be seen disappearing up
the stairs.

Judith put her hand on Iain’s arm. “Then
will the English be staying for dinner?”

Brother Luke shook off his own grief and
motioned for Iain to go after his betrothed.

“
Go to her, lad. I shall
try to explain this to my good friends here.”

****

Marion raced all the way up the winding
stairs to the top of the great square tower house. Bursting into
the fresh air and sunshine, she ran along the stone parapet and out
onto one of the corner bartizans. Her breaths were short and the
quiet sobs escaping her were lost in the whistling wind. She leaned
out between the blocks of stone and looked down at the earth far
below. Beneath her, yellow leaves were swirling in the air, carried
by the breeze. Tears dropped from her cheeks, disappearing before
they reached the ground.

Her father couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be
gone. He’d promised her he would come back.

“
Marion.”

Iain’s sharp call snapped like a whip in the
morning air. She didn’t look at him.

“
Marion, step back away
from that ledge.”

She leaned farther out; she would not be
ordered around. She was in no danger of falling the four stories.
His powerful hands were around her waist in an instant, though, and
he lifted her bodily away from the edge. She stood with her back
against the opposite wall, the flash of anger disappearing as
thoughts of her father returned.

“
You heard what I told your
aunts,” he said in calmer voice.

She stared at the tops of the trees in the
distance and nodded. Her chin quivered, but she fought back the
tears.

“
I am sorry, Marion. I am
sorry to be the bearer of such sad news.”

It was the gentleness in his voice that
choked her up again. She slid her back down the wall and wrapped
her arms around her knees, burying her face against them.

“
We have no time for
grieving now.” He crouched before her. “I told your aunts the same
thing. The English are surely coming, and I need to move everyone
here to Blackthorn Hall. I told your father I would see to his
people’s safety.”

“
Will we be safer at
Blackthorn?”

Iain frowned. “I cannot say for certain. It
is more defensible than your father’s tower house. But you shall be
safe, anyway.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
You are going
north.”

Her gaze locked on his face. “Where are you
sending me?”

“
To the Isle of Skye. There
is an abbey there…with a convent. It will be perfect for you. And
safe.”

“
I shan’t go,” she argued.
“I want to stay with my family.”

Iain shook his head firmly. “It is not your
decision. It was your father’s wish that if anything were to happen
to him, you would be cared for properly. I gave him my word.”

“
I
am
cared for properly…by my family.
I shan’t—”

“
Do not argue with me,” he
snapped, his tone harsh. “With any luck, you will not need to stay
there too long, and I—”

“
One day is too long. Aunt
Judith and Aunt Margaret have been mothers to me for all these
years. Uncle William has been like a father…whenever my own has
been away.” Marion preferred to not beg, but she would if she
thought it would have any effect on this coldhearted man. “And they
need me, too.”

“
It is out of the
question,” he said, standing up. “Your own father, their brother,
did not wish to leave you in their charge. He knew they are not
able to care for you, and I think even less of them.”

“
You are vile and
mean-spirited,” she said furiously. “How could you say these things
after all the times you have been a guest at their
table?”

“
You are my
responsibility,” he replied, his voice low. “I shall do as I must.
And right now I am telling you that you need to prepare to travel
north.”

She could not go. She had just lost her
father, and now she was to be taken from the rest of her family. An
idea occurred to her, and she looked up at him towering over her.
“I am your betrothed, Iain. If you do not trust the care of my
aunts, then move me to Blackthorn Hall.”

“
I cannot be certain of
your safety there. Besides, it would not be right to move you there
until we are wed.”

“
Then marry me now. It is
not as if I have any options about choosing a husband. I have been
stuck with you since the age of three.”

Iain crouched down again, his head sinking
into his hand. Marion looked at the bloodstained hand as his
fingers dug into his long brown hair. She felt she might have a
chance. For the first time, she noticed the nasty gash on his brow,
but she fought back the urge to reach out and touch it.

“
Marry me,” she pressed.
“Do it now and be done with it. Then let me live my
life.”

His blue eyes were actually filled with
amusement when they looked up into hers.

“
I cannot, Marion. And even
if I could, I would not. You are going to Skye.”

“
But why?” she said, her
anger returning. “Why can you not marry me?”

“
Because, lass, you are
only six years old.”

Twelve years later, Isle of Skye

The walls of the Convent of Newabbey rose up
in the distance. A huddle of huts formed a neat village at its
gates, and the smoke of the morning fires hung like a low cloud
about the thatched roofs. A scruffy black dog spotted the man and
ran out from a pen beside the closest cottage. His ferocious
barking blended with the rhythmic hammering of the smith already
hard at work in the forge.

From the top of his horse, at the head of a
group of Armstrong men, Iain growled back at the dog.

“
An excellent way to rid
yourself of your disagreeable mood,” Brother Luke advised, spurring
his horse up beside his nephew’s. “In fact, why don’t you dismount
and wrestle the beast to the ground?”

His comment drew only a narrow stare. The
laird pushed ahead and the group dutifully fell in step.

The smell of roasting mutton reached Brother
Luke, and the stirring in his belly reminded him that he hadn’t
anything to eat today. Their group had risen early. The laird had
been impatient to be on the road. Twice, Marion had failed to show
up where she’d been directed to be. The messengers had been sent
over a month ago. She was to meet the laird at Eilean Donan Castle,
accompanied by half a dozen escorts that Iain had arranged for.

When Iain and the rest of his men had
arrived there two days ago, an Armstrong warrior was waiting alone,
but there was no sign of Lady Marion. She’d sent a message that
she’d made a habit of not traveling on Mondays.

Iain had proceeded to their second meeting
place. An inn at the crossing to the mainland at Kyle of Lochalsh.
Again, there’d been no Marion. Only the message that she had the
custom of fasting on Tuesdays. That made it difficult for travel.
Even the dogs had known better than to step in the path of the
Armstrong laird that day. He was not pleased. Brother Luke
suggested that it was really the weather that was keeping her. It
had rained incessantly for the entire week they had been on the
road.

Brother Luke nodded pleasantly at the folk
of the village as the laird dismounted from his horse. Everyone
else did the same, and they walked along the lane that led to the
gates of the priory.

Nuns were known for occasionally developing
peculiar habits, especially when it came to reclusiveness. Brother
Luke thought it natural that after Marion’s twelve years of living
with them, she could have developed similar tendencies. His nephew,
though, didn’t share his thinking. He was laird and a very busy
man. Brother Luke knew Iain to be a fair leader, a man who was
respected and obeyed. When he made a command, he expected nothing
less than total compliance from his people and from his intended. A
marriage was going to take place. The English king and the Scottish
regent were both sending representatives to Blackthorn Hall within
the fortnight to witness it, as the final union of McCall heir and
Armstrong laird was a further guarantee to consolidate power after
decades of uprisings and clan conflict in the region.

In short, it was time for Lady Marion to
return home.

The gates that led through the high wall
surrounding the buildings and the church comprising the priory were
open, and when the group entered, an old porter rushed over.

“
I was told ye might arrive
last night. Maybe it was two nights ago, I canna remember. But we
knew ye were coming, m’lord.” He motioned for the stable hands to
rush over. “The prioress is waiting for ye at the chapter
house.”

Brother Luke looked around at the orderly
plan of the priory grounds, at the church directly ahead, and at
the stables and guest quarters to the left, with a small orchard
rising behind. To the right sat the chapter house, with its
business offices and school and what he assumed to be the nun’s
quarters beyond. He could see the smoke rising from what must be a
kitchen building behind the living quarters, and he guessed there
was probably a well-tended garden behind that. Between the nuns’
quarters and the church, paths of white crushed shells crisscrossed
a small quadrangle of greensward, cultivated herbs, and flowers.
Neat, efficient, and pleasant, Brother Luke thought approvingly.
This had been a good place for the wee Marion to grow up.

“
Where do I find Lady
Marion?” Iain asked, handing his horse to one of the stable hands.
The rest of the horses were taken away, too.

“
She might be in her cell.
But I’m not certain, m’lord. Would today be Wednesday,
perchance?”

“
What difference does it
make what day it is?” Iain asked, his patience obviously wearing
thin.

The porter took his hat off and scratched
his balding head. “I’m getting too old to remember everything I’m
told, or keep track of what day it is, either. One thing I do know
was that the lass told me if ye were to come on a Wednesday, that I
was to tell ye that’s her day of…of seclusion. Yer lordship canna
know where she is.”

Seeing the laird’s temper about to boil
over, Brother Luke immediately stepped forward and placed a hand on
his nephew’s forearm.

“
He’s just a simple
messenger,” he whispered.

Iain did not take his eyes off the old man.
“Tell me this,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “What did she
tell you to say if I arrived on Thursday?”

“
Thursday?” The porter
scratched his head again. “Ahh…that’s it. That she’d be gone to the
lepers' village if ye came on Thursday. Or maybe that was for
Friday. And Thursday she’d be ill to her stomach? I know Saturday
and Sunday were the prayer days and she could not be disturbed.
Ahh, I’ve muddled it all. The prioress shall be able to explain
much better, m’lord. She’d be waiting at the chapter house for
ye.”

“
You said that before.”
Iain handed the man a coin.

“
I’ll show ye the way,” the
porter said, relieved.

Everyone but Luke and the laird headed for
the kitchens. At the sound of another growl from his stomach,
Brother Luke was tempted to head that way, too. But gauging his
nephew’s temper and having heard about the iron fist of Mara
Penrith MacLeod, prioress of the Convent of Newabbey, he decided
his presence and mediation could be needed. The good Lord only knew
what Iain might say in his present mood. The last thing they needed
was to leave without the McCall heir.

“
Has Lady Marion always
been kept to such a rigorous schedule of daily activities?” Iain
asked the porter as they moved toward their destination.

“
This is not the prioress’s
doing, if that’s what ye are asking. Lady Marion has never been one
to sit still. From the time the wee creature arrived, the lass has
always been ready to put her shoulder to the priory wheel,” the old
man said with a smile. “The lass likes to work, be it here or at
the village, or visiting a sick crofter or even the
lepers.”