Bond of Passion (47 page)

Then they returned to Rath Tower to celebrate this new union between the Bruces of Cleit and the Bairds of Rath. The feast was held in the hall. There were roast meats: beef, venison, lamb, and boar. There were trout and salmon from the nearby streams and rivers. There was an enormous pie filled with rabbit, carrots, and tiny onions surrounded by a rich wine gravy, and topped with a flaky crust. There were ducks roasted until their skins were crispy, and swimming in a plum sauce. There were capons stuffed with sage, bread, onions, and celery. There were two roast turkeys, and platters of quail eggs. Lettuces had been braised in white wine. There were bowls of tiny peas. The trestles had small wheels of hard yellow cheese. The high board had two cheeses: a hard yellow, and a soft white French cheese. There were ale and cider and wine to drink.

They ate, and they toasted the bridal couple. Annabella thought her brother looked genuinely happy, as did his new wife. And when the feasting had ceased they went outside into the summer sunshine, where an archery contest was in progress. In a nearby field a group of men were kicking about a ball made from a sheep’s bladder. A group of musicians played, and there was dancing. Annabella and her sisters briefly joined in the round, catching hands with the villagers and cavorting in a circle, first this way and then the other.

Angus watched his wife, thinking that although her sisters had great physical beauty, Annabella was truly the most beautiful of them all, even if they didn’t know it. Her goodness radiated from her plain face. Her gray eyes sparkled, and her smile was sweet. The laird of Rath came and stood next to his son-in-law. “It pleases me to see the love ye hae for her,” he murmured softly.

“She’s yer daughter,” Angus answered quietly. “Ye know what she is like.”

“Aye, I do,” the laird replied, “but most men could nae get by her plain face. Ye did, and discovered the treasure that I gie ye. I am glad, for she loves ye too.”

Angus Ferguson smiled. “Aye!” he agreed. “Are we nae the most fortunate couple, my lord?”

The day began to wane, and they returned to the hall to feast once again. It grew near the hour that the bride and groom would be put together. But first Rob and his three brothers-in-law danced amid the swords laid out upon the floor as both the Baird and the Bruce pipers played. As their dance was coming to an end, there was a small disturbance at the far end of the hall. The mournful sound of the pipes died away as a gaunt figure stumbled forward toward the high board, hands outstretched.

Myrna and Sorcha screamed softly. Alys clung to her bridegroom. The lady Anne looked to her husband. It was Annabella who recognized the visitor. “Agnes!” she cried. Then she rushed to catch her youngest sister, who was collapsing to the floor. She sat on the hall floor, cradling her sibling in her lap. The girl was covered in the dust of the road. Her hair was matted, her garments shabby, and she was very pale. “Agnes,” Annabella said again. Her hand smoothed a strand of hair from her sister’s face.

“Am . . . I . . . home?” Agnes whispered hoarsely.

“Aye, ye’re home, and in time for the end of Rob’s wedding day,” Annabella said.

Agnes sighed deeply, and then her eyes closed as she fell into a deep sleep.

The lady Anne was now by her eldest daughter’s side. “What hae happened to her, Annabella?” She gave a little shriek. “She is barefoot! Where are her shoes?”

“We need to get her upstairs and into bed,” Annabella said.

It was then Myrna’s big Highlander husband, Duncan MacKay, stepped in, saying as he gathered Agnes up into his brawny arms, “Where do ye want me to take her, my lady? God’s blood, the lass weighs nae more than a bag of feathers,” he exclaimed.

The lady Anne looked distraught. The tower was not spacious. The chamber she shared with her husband was on the floor above the hall, their son’s chamber above that, and his sisters’ at the top. For the first time in her life the lady of Rath didn’t know what to do. She looked helplessly to Annabella.

“We must make a bed here in the hall for her,” Annabella said quietly. She called a manservant to her side and gave quick instructions. In just a very few minutes a small cot had been put next to one of the hearths. It was then covered with a feather bed, pillows, and a down coverlet. Duncan MacKay gently set the sleeping girl down on the narrow bed. “Thank ye,” Annabella said, smiling at him. Then she turned back to attend to her youngest sister.

“We must get her out of those filthy clothes,” the lady Anne said.

Together, amid the finish of the wedding feast, the two women worked to divest poor Agnes of her clothing, bathe her as best they could, and dress her in a clean night garment. The women servants had thoughtfully brought a screen to give them a modicum of privacy. When Agnes was settled, her old nurse patiently combing the tangles from her hair, the lady of Rath and her daughter, the Countess of Duin, came back to the high board, where the rest of the family was awaiting them.

The lady Anne collapsed into her high-backed chair.

Annabella sat down, quietly saying, “As soon as Agnes knew she was safely home, she fell into a deep sleep. She hae said nothing, and so we must possess our souls of patience now until she awakens and can tell us what happened.”

“I think, with both families’ permission, we may dispense wi’ the putting-to-bed ceremony. Alys and I will just go to our chamber now,” young Rob Baird said.

The Bruces agreed with the Bairds. Everyone at the high board wished the bridal couple a pleasant night, and then they were gone from the hall.

Myrna stood up. “I will sit by Agnes’s side for the next three hours,” she said without even being asked.

“I will sit by her for the next three after that,” Sorcha said.

“And I will do the hours before and into the dawn,” Annabella told them. “Ye must rest, Mam, for yer nursing skills will be needed on the morrow, I am certain.”

She was right. Agnes finally awoke the next day with a low fever. Her mother cured it with a mixture of herbs. They were all horrified by her wasted appearance, but she was not yet ready to explain it, or how she had gotten to Rath. Several days passed before, finally convinced that their younger sibling would survive, Sorcha and her family departed for their nearby home. Myrna and Duncan MacKay, along with their curly-haired daughter, Meggie, left the day after. They had not yet allowed little Robbie Ferguson to see his mother, for fear her meager appearance would frighten him. The Bruces had also departed two days after the wedding was celebrated.

“When she is strong enough to travel,” the earl told the laird, “she will come home to Duin wi’ us. She is my brother’s wife. She hae her own house there, and her bairn. Taking care of Robbie again will help her to recover.”

At first the laird protested. “She is my daughter, Angus. She is Rath born.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “but she is a Ferguson’s wife, and she does love Duin. What is there for her here now, wi’ yer heir married? ’Tis nae a grand house, Robert. ’Tis just large enough for a small family. At Duin she can live either in the castle or the fine stone house that my brother built for her. She is her own woman, beholden to neither her da nor her brother. Alys seems a sweet lass, but how long will she tolerate her husband’s sister in the same house? Nay, Agnes will come wi’ us.”

“Leave the choice to her,” the laird said.

Angus Ferguson laughed. “Nay, Robert. Agnes is a stubborn young woman. She left Duin to follow after my brother, despite our best advice, despite our pleading that she remain. She is too proud to beg to come home wi’ us. She must be told she is coming and has nae choice in the matter at all. ’Tis better that way for all of us.”

The laird thought a long moment, and then he agreed that perhaps the earl was right. That evening Agnes sat among her kinfolk and finally told them her tale. The color had begun to come back into her cheeks. Her feet, which had been cracked, roughened, and covered with blisters, were now healing. Her little son nestled in his mother’s arms as, sitting up against a pile of pillows at her back, she told them what had happened.

“When James Hamilton murdered the Earl of Moray,” she began, “the Hamiltons were almost immediately besieged by the King’s Men. There was nae place they could hide. Matthew managed to escape and come for me here at Rath. Then we went on again to France, to the village from where old Jeanne had come.”

“Why did ye nae return to Duin?” the earl asked quietly.

“Matthew no longer felt welcome at Duin,” Agnes said, lowering her eyes. “I begged him to go back, but he would nae. He said that in France he would make a new life for us. He had been a steward in a great castle, and he could hire his sword. But we never reached Jeanne’s village. We never got past the port where we landed, Har-fleur. Though we had little coin, we managed to gain shelter in a waterfront tavern. But then Matthew heard some sailors disparaging his queen. They called her a whore. Matthew got into a quarrel wi’ them over it.” Here Agnes stopped briefly, her beautiful blue eyes filling with tears. “He . . . he was killed before my eyes. They slit his throat and left him to die in my arms.” She began to sob softly. Then she continued.

“When they tried to rob him as well, I began to shriek to the high heavens. The innkeeper and his lads came to my defense, and what coin we had was saved. I used most of it to hae him buried in the churchyard, and for the priest to say prayers for him. Then I sought a vessel to bring me back across the water.”

“Ye had enough coin for it?” Annabella said.

Agnes flushed and said nothing for a few moments as they all waited to learn what else she would say.

“Thank ye for seeing that Matthew was properly buried,” the earl said to her. “I regret the pain my brother hae cost ye.”

Agnes looked up, and he could see both sorrow and anger in her lovely blue eyes. “By some miracle I found a vessel going to Leith. I told the captain my husband had just died, and showed him my few coins. ’Twas all I had for my passage, and I told him I would travel on the deck, and eat only the scraps from the table.” She paused, then went on. “He suggested another arrangement, which I at first refused, but after two nights of rain and wind I weakened, for I knew I would get sick and die if I had to endure another night on the open deck. He was a kind man, and I no virgin.”

The laird’s wife grew pale at her daughter’s words. Annabella reached out and took Agnes’s hand in hers. Agnes threw her sister a grateful look and continued onward.

“When we reached Leith I sold my boots for enough coin to purchase bread. I had been able to eat little aboard the vessel, for my belly is nae a good sailor, I fear. I began walking, and I walked and walked and walked until the countryside began to look familiar again. I passed many villages and homes burned out, for they were obviously supporters of the Hamiltons. Three days ago I ran out of both bread and coin. I made certain to shelter secretly in barns, where I was able to steal eggs to eat raw. And then I reached Rath, praise God! There were times,” Agnes said as tears began to roll down her cheeks, “that I thought I should never see home or family again.”

There was a long silence as her words concluded, and then the laird of Rath told his daughter, told them all, “Ye’re a brave lass, Aggie. I’m proud of ye.”

“We’ll gie ye another week to gain yer strength back,” the Earl of Duin told his sister-in-law, “and then ye’re coming home wi’ us, Agnes.”

“Nay!” Agnes quickly cried.

“Aye, ye are, lass,” Angus Ferguson said. “Ye should hae never left us, and yer son needs his mam, but he’s a Ferguson, Aggie, and he remains at Duin, where he hae his family, his grandmam, his cousins, his aunt and uncle.”

“But how can I live?” Agnes said. “I hae no monies.”

“But ye do,” the earl surprised her by saying. “Matthew would hae accessed his gold when ye got to France and were settled. Now it is yers. Ye hae a stone house on lands belonging to him. Ye can live in the castle if ye prefer. However, there is nae question of ye living anywhere else but Duin. We want ye home again, Agnes. Yer son wants his mam.”

Agnes began to weep again, but this time the sound she made was one of relief. She looked up at Angus Ferguson. “I am grateful to ye, my lord. I will gladly come back to Duin, for I love it. It almost broke my heart to hae to leave it.”

“Then it is settled,” the earl told her.

Afterward, as Agnes lay sleeping again, the lady Anne came to where her eldest daughter and Angus Ferguson were seated together by the other fireplace. The flames were blazing brightly, the warmth of the fire taking the chill from the summer’s evening.

“How can I thank ye,” she said to the earl. “When I think how concerned I was when it was decided ye were to marry Annabella . . . Yer family’s reputation for sorcery frightened me. Yet my husband assured me ye were naught but a man who sought his privacy. I was but partly reassured. And then I met ye, and I could see yer deep and abiding affection for my child. Everything I had heard of ye was put to flight, for ye are a man of honor, of principle. Now, seeing yer kindness and forgiveness for Agnes, I think ye are nae a sorcerer but an angel come to earth, my lord. Thank ye.”

The Earl of Duin stood and took the lady Anne’s two hands in his. His handsome face turned to look into her blue eyes. “Let me assure ye, madam, that while I am nae a sorcerer, neither am I an angel.” He flashed her a warm smile. “I have done little, but even fearful ye gave me Annabella, who is the best of all women. I will do whatever ye need for that reason and that reason alone,” he assured her. Then he kissed her two hands before releasing them.

Afterward, when she had gone, Annabella told him, “Ye hae made her so happy, my darling. Thank ye for reassuring her.”

A week later, Agnes settled in a comfortable cart, the Fergusons of Duin began their journey to the southwest. With the good late-summer weather they reached Duin in good time, considering the baggage that followed them along with Agnes’s cart. Agnes had decided to live in her own home. She and her son would live in the castle until the house had been opened up again and the servants returned to serve her.