Claire Delacroix (36 page)

We both looked up in astonishment as Gawain leapt through the space. He landed on his toes with untold agility, a dagger gripped in his teeth. He plucked the knife from his teeth, twirled it and grinned.

I know that I smiled, so delighted was I to see him here, so reassured was I by his confident swagger.

“How fortunate to find you here, Alasdair,” Gawain said with cocky ease, sparing a conspiratorial wink for me. “I have a missive for you that must be delivered afore you die.”

“You have no missive for me,” Alasdair snarled.

“Indeed I do,” Gawain said amiably. “This dagger -” he twirled it so that the blade flashed silver and I recognized it with astonishment “- this blade commands me to avenge its owner.”

“You speak nonsense.”

“It is Niall’s blade,” I said breathlessly. “My father granted it to him when Niall pledged his loyalty to Inverfyre. It is an old blade, a blade that belonged to my grandfather.”

Gawain arched a brow, no doubt surprised that none of us had guessed why my father granted it to Niall. “And this family blade calls for blood in vengeance. It calls for your blood, Alasdair. Niall of Glenfannon may have been many things, but like his father, he was a man of honor, a man who demanded that justice be done.”

“Lies!” Alasdair roared.

While Alasdair’s attention was diverted, I drove my knee into his crotch. His grip loosed on me even as his eyes bulged. He swore, but that instant was all I needed. I leaned toward him so that the chain fell slack, then ducked my head through its loop. My mother’s crucifix remained locked in his fist, the chain swinging empty, but I chose to live without it.

Tarsuinn pounded on the chapel doors with renewed vigor. I raced for the back of the chapel, my heart quailing at the clash of steel on steel behind me. I gathered the
Titulus
pieces against my chest with one hand and opened the latch with the other.

The doors were cast open with such vigor that I was flung back against the wall. I caught my breath, certain that I had aided Gawain as best I could, then gasped in horror at what I had done.

It was not Tarsuinn that thundered into the chapel, nor indeed was it anyone I knew. Four of Alasdair’s troops ran down the aisle, their mail clattering and their blades held high.

“No!” I shouted in dismay.

The mercenaries bellowed as one, ignoring me as they joined the fight. I had a fleeting glimpse of Gawain when he glanced up at my cry and saw the multiplied number of his opponents.

I had betrayed him!

But Gawain cast no accusing glance my way. His lips set with such resolve that I knew he would fight to the most bitter end. Indeed, the sunlight gilded his hair as he leapt to the altar and swung his blade in a battle he was destined to lose.

* * *

XIX

“My lady!” Tarsuinn hissed.

I spun to find him on the threshold on the chapel, blood running from the shoulder of his sword arm. He was pale, but he relinquished his grip upon his wound to offer me his hand.

“Come, my lady, we must seize this chance to flee.”

I glanced back as a man groaned and fell. It was Alasdair, Niall’s knife lodged in his chest. Gawain must have no blade! I took a step just as Alasdair lunged to his feet with a snarl.

“No!” Tarsuinn seized my hand and pulled me back.

Gawain kicked Alasdair in the chest and Alasdair fell, hitting his head and moving no more. Gawain seized Alasdair’s sword without hesitation and spun to face his assailants.

“The specter of Niall of Glenfannon demands vengeance!” Gawain cried with wicked glee. I was fascinated and thrilled by his boldness. “How fearless are you, now, my friends?”

“We must leave,” Tarsuinn urged.

“A man gives his life to ensure yours,” Malachy insisted. I turned to find the smaller man panting with his own exhaustion, blood spattered across his face and garb. “Do not make his sacrifice a worthless one, my lady.”

I looked back, torn, to see Alasdair’s men fall upon Gawain with renewed vigor. They quickly obscured him from my sight.

Tarsuinn tugged my sleeve anew. Only the knowledge that a babe relied upon my survival made me turn. I would save myself that I might save Gawain’s child - had I not carried the fruit of his seed, I would have aided him, even died without remorse.

But I could not think only of myself. I took Tarsuinn’s hand, my vision veiled with tears. They cast a cloak over me, these men so loyal to my father’s hand, and led me nigh blind through the market square. I could see little with the hood of the cloak pulled over my face, but knew that if I were recognized, I would breathe my last.

I put my trust in these men who had earned it time and again.

We nearly tripped over the fallen, our cloaks were singed by the flames that swept through the village. A shout echoed when we drew near to the shadowed gates. Tarsuinn and Malachy flung me ahead of them, but I could not abandon them wholly. I cast back my hood to better defend myself just as Dubhglas dove toward me.

I buried my eating knife in his eye. He fell back, screaming. My companions dispatched their attackers and we turned to flee, just as the portcullis rope began to groan.

“Run!” Malachy cried.

His cry prompted half a dozen men to turn. A shout rose from the square behind us, the iron gate began to lower toward the earth with relentless speed. We raced for the narrowing portal, and I saw that the gate descended too fast.

“Roll!” Tarsuinn shouted. Malachy tripped me and I fell behind him, tumbling through the narrow aperture. For a heart stopping moment, I stared directly upward into the descending spikes, fearing I would not be through in time. Malachy seized my hand and tugged, and I pulled my legs through. Tarsuinn rolled through the space behind me.

The points of the portcullis buried themselves in the ground with a resounding thud. Tarsuinn gasped, for the points had barely missed his flesh and pinned his tabard into the ground. We pulled upon his hands, I heard cloth tear, but we ran, not a one of us looking back. The mercenaries gathered shouting at the gates, demanding that it be raised with haste.

Indeed, we ran as if the hounds of hell were behind us, scattering into the welcome haven of the cool green forest.

* * *

When we crested a distant hill, the forest holding us in its embrace, I dared to look back. I groaned when I saw that Inverfyre burned with unholy vigor. The blaze was as bright as a beacon, the flames consumed hut, village and wall.

My legacy was lost.

As I watched, the roof of the chapel was devoured by flames. The cross upon its roof was illuminated with a corona of fire, then it tumbled along with the crumbling roof. It fell burning into the chapel and the ground seemed to shake with its impact even where we stood.

My heart sank at the sight. Even if Gawain defeated his foes, I could not imagine that he would escape the chapel alive.

My love was lost. I knew this to be the truth as soon as the thought came to me. I loved Gawain, loved him as I could never have believed a woman could love a man. Without him, without the prospect of hearing his laughter, without knowing that he plundered and pillaged abroad, without knowing that the man I loved lived boldly somewhere, my own life was as dust in my mouth.

I had realized the truth too late to share it with him.

At Tarsuinn’s urging, I turned reluctantly away from the scene of destruction and we began to put distance between ourselves and Inverfyre. I did not know where we went, I did not care. I but followed their lead and grieved.

I wept at the blood that stained my slippers, blood of the people I had failed. I wept for Niall, who had been killed because I sought his aid. I wept for the forebears I had failed, for my parents whose pledges I had broken, for my son whose legacy I had lost. And I wept for Gawain, a man who professed to care for nothing or no one but who had died ensuring my survival.

I had failed in every way that mattered, failed in ways that I had not dreamed existed. I could not imagine how I would continue in the face of these facts. I walked with these two loyal men, respectful of my turmoil in their silence, and gradually my tears spent themselves. The air cooled, the screams faded behind us and the shadows of the evening began to fall. We walked until we could walk no more, then Tarsuinn touched my elbow.

“There is a glade here, my lady, a sheltered hollow that cannot be readily discerned by any who might pass. I would suggest that we halt for the night.”

“I can walk to Edinburgh,” I said, though the exhaustion in my bones belied my words.

Tarsuinn smiled. “I do not doubt it, my lady, for you have your father’s strength of purpose. Think of the child you carry, though, afore you tax yourself too much.”

I did think of the child, for I wished to put a thousand miles betwixt we two and the ambitious MacLaren clan who assailed Inverfyre. All the same, there was some merit to Tarsuinn’s argument. We could not get so far this night, and Tarsuinn needed care for his wound. I realized how tired these two men must be and found the truth of it in their faces.

I smiled in my turn. “Forgive me, both of you. In my haste to be away, I have forgotten the battles you have faced this day.”

“Not only us, my lady,” Malachy said quietly. He raised a hand, though did not touch my throat. I was aware suddenly the burn upon my flesh and raised my hand to the welt wrought by the chain of my mother’s own crucifix.

I refused to dwell upon the fact that I had lost that, as well. “Let us halt then, as you suggest. You must have your wound tended, Tarsuinn.”

There was a tranquility in this glade, a caress in its welcoming shadows. It seemed our hearts were lightened even as we stepped within it, as if this place belonged out of time. The hues of green seemed richer here, the burble of the stream more merry. The cool shadows embraced us, a light breeze coaxed our cares away. Tarsuinn took a deep breath and seemed to drop a weight from his shoulders, even Malachy seemed less dour.

“There is no balm like a place with old bones,” Tarsuinn said, then cupped his hands and sipped of the stream trickling there.

“You know this place?” I was surprised, though I supposed we had not come that far from Inverfyre.

Tarsuinn colored. Malachy chuckled. “Many know it, my lady, though I am not surprised that you do not. It is a place where lovers oft come to meet, a place where they forget the cares of the world of men.”

“It is said that the old goddesses walked here, trailing their skirts upon the ground and leaving flowers in their wake,” Tarsuinn confided. “It is here the peasants come to leave prayers to the Lady of the Waters.”

I looked and saw a few rags tied in the trees, their ends trailing in the water. It is an old charm to journey to a holy fount, to pray, then to leave a token behind. The rags were old and I suspected that this place had lost its allure as a place to beg favors, at least of a divine feminine.

I had no doubt that the old goddesses would have approved of mortals making love in this glade so fond to them. I smiled that they might smile upon those who trysted here.

“And you should know such a detail,” Malachy teased his comrade. “Given your many encounters with the ladies.”

Tarsuinn colored more deeply. “Do not blame me if you have poor fortune in matters of the heart,” he said gruffly. “Your own tongue is your worst enemy.”

I glimpsed a side of these men I had never seen before and watched with welcome amusement.

“While your insistence upon showing gallantry even where it is undeserved has won you untold hearts,” Malachy said, then grinned. “Even those you do not desire.”

“We need not speak of this…”

“Tell me, did ever you bring Fiona to this place?”

Tarsuinn shook a finger at his friend. “You promised never to tease me about this matter again! I cannot help an old maid’s folly…”

“Fiona?” I echoed.

“Tarsuinn was kind to her, which was his sole crime.” Malachy barely restrained his laughter. “He has paid for his foolhardiness ever since.” He laid a hand upon his chest and fluttered his lashes. He then pursed his lips and offered a parody of a kiss to Tarsuinn before mocking a woman’s voice. “Oh, Tarsuinn, Tarsuinn, take me!”

Tarsuinn dove after his friend with a growl of frustration and they tussled good-naturedly. Malachy rolled on the greenery, laughing that Tarsuinn was so outraged.

“What of your wound, Tarsuinn?” I asked.

“Aye, his heart is broken now that he is parted from his beloved Fiona,” Malachy managed to mutter. Tarsuinn tussled the smaller man to the turf, Malachy’s defense much impeded by his helpless laughter. He whispered “oh Tarsuinn!” at intervals, until he was breathless with laughter.

Tarsuinn abandoned the battle, returning to me as if affronted beyond belief. “No doubt you are jealous, for you desired to court her yourself,” he cast these words over his shoulder, his manner smug.

“Me?” Malachy sat up, leaves in his hair.

“Oh, I have seen the eyes you make at Fiona across the hall,” Tarsuinn insisted. Now, he laid his hand over his heart and tried to look like a man besotted. “I have heard you catch your breath when she enters the hall and I have heard you whisper her name in your sleep.”