The Promise of Peace (4 page)

Keifer thought about it for only a second. “James is my best friend.” A stab of homesickness hit him as he remembered his friend so far away at Dunstruan. If this Nola was the oldest, then her brothers were going to make poor friends for a boy as old as he. Some of his sadness must have shown on his face.

“I'll be your friend. If you like.”

She looked so hopeful, he couldn't be mean. “All right.”

She beamed at him and handed him the kitten.

He gave the cat a friendly pat and set it down. Though glad to have pleased her and just a little grateful for her offer of friendship, Keifer reminded himself not to become too fond of her.

Ceallach and Adam walked toward them, and Keifer fought to tamp down his resentment. He'd allowed himself to care about the big knight, and yet soon Ceallach would abandon him. This place, these people, would be no more permanent in his life than his father, brother, or Ceallach.

Keifer would not make the same mistake with Adam Mackintosh or anyone else at Moy.

TWO

S
IR ADAM LED THEM INTO THE KEEP where they sat down for the midday meal. Keifer sat quietly, listening to his host and hostess and taking their measure.

“We are pleased to have you here, Keifer,” Sir Adam said. “The children have been allowed to sit at the table rather than being banished to the nursery so that they may welcome their new foster brother.”

Keifer couldn't think what to say.

Lady Gwenyth came to his rescue. “I remember leaving my parents to foster—it seemed cruel at the time. But I became fond of my new family.”

One of the younger boys spilled his cup of milk, and the lady calmly wiped the spill while Sir Adam gently admonished the child to be more careful.

Keifer had expected to be afraid of the man, but he dealt easily with his children and spoke with respect to his wife. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad after all.

Keifer kept a close watch on Nola, who sat across from him. She squirmed in her seat throughout the meal, and at the earliest possible moment, asked her father to be excused.

“Wait until Keifer is finished. Then you may show him the castle grounds.”

She fidgeted, sending meaningful stares his way. Keifer didn't want to be escorted by a six-year-old child, especially a girl. However, he had no more swallowed his last bite of bread than Nola shot up from her seat, knocking the trestle top and shaking its contents. She raced around the table and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Keifer.”

He looked to Adam for a possible reprieve, but the man just raised his eyebrows and nodded.

Keifer slowly stood, was granted permission to leave, and was nearly dragged off his feet when he didn't move fast enough. He had to jog to keep up with the red-headed sprite attached to his arm. They breezed through the kitchen and the chapel before heading outdoors, Nola chatting all the while.

Determined not to succumb to her exuberance, he scuffed his boots in the dirt, raising dust. She let go of his arm and skipped ahead. Looking back over her shoulder, she shouted, “Come on!”

As Keifer followed her at his own pace, he took notice of the well-maintained buildings and the high, stone curtain wall. Morrigan had chosen well; it would be nigh on impossible to breach these walls. Trying not to feel as if he'd been sentenced to a prison term, he looked for his companion, who had disappeared.

Her head popped out from the doorway of a wooden building and she gave an impatient wave of her hand until Keifer followed. He stepped inside, and though it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, he knew from the smell they were in the sheep shed.

He thought of the sheep at Dunstruan and of the weaving hut where he and Ceallach and Lady Orelia had worked together on the very plaid he was wearing. He fingered the cloth, remembering the English noblewoman who'd been a prisoner at Dunstruan. Lady Orelia had taught Keifer how to weave. Then she, too, had left him. He knew she had to go back to England and why, but it didn't make the parting any easier.

Aye, he'd allowed himself to care and what good had it done?
Stupid sheep.
Fiercely he shoved the memories aside as he and Nola stood outside one of the pens. Nola asked, “Did you have sheep at Dunstruan?”

“Aye.” He bent down and picked up a clean piece of sweet-smelling hay. Sticking the end into his mouth, he picked his teeth and tried to ignore the girl.

“Did you help with them?”

He nodded. She was difficult to ignore.

Nola put her hands on her hips. “Did you have a favorite?”

“No.” He threw down the makeshift toothpick. “You ask too many questions.”

She stopped talking, and he feared he'd hurt her feelings. But apparently she wasn't easily hurt. She turned from him and switched her attention to the sheep inside the enclosure. “Oh, dear.”

“What's wrong?” He didn't care. Wouldn't care. He only asked because he was pretty sure Nola would tell him whether he wanted to know or not.

An ewe stood at one end of the pen, feet planted in defiance. Opening the gate, Nola entered and Keifer followed. Nola ignored the ewe and walked to her lamb, curled up in some straw at the opposite end of the enclosure. Keifer feared the mother would charge them to protect her lamb, but she lowered her head to the hay lying on the ground and began to eat.

Curious at the ewe's odd behavior, Keifer knelt next to Nola and the tiny animal. “What's wrong?”

“The mother has abandoned her wee babe.”

Keifer looked closer. “Why? What is wrong with it?”

“I don't know. It seems to be all right but 'tis cold and hungry. If it doesn't eat, the poor thing will soon die. Will you carry it for me?” she asked.

Keifer shrugged. “Sure.” He picked up the mewling lamb and carried it out of the pen. To his surprise, they headed for the castle. “What are you going to do?” he asked, walking fast to keep pace with Nola.

“We're going to try to save it.” When they entered the kitchen, Nola scampered off and returned with a willow basket lined with tanned sheepskin. Keifer placed the lamb inside.

“I'll be back—keep her warm.”

Keifer sat beside the lamb, wondering what hare-brained idea Nola had come up with. The tiny creature looked so forlorn, he picked it back up and held it. Keifer knew only too well how it felt to be abandoned. He tucked the lamb inside his plaid for added warmth. He breathed in the smell of the creature's fleece and felt its tiny breaths.

Nola soon returned with a bowl of milk and a piece of cloth, as well as a spoon. Keifer placed the creature back into the basket and they took turns spooning milk down the lamb's throat, one of them holding its mouth open, the other emptying the spoon. Their sleeves and the lamb were soon damp with milk.

Exhausted from its efforts, the lamb fell asleep. Lady Gwenyth made up a pallet for each of them near the fire.

As they moved the sleeping lamb closer to their pallets, Sir Adam came to see how they were doing. “So, you are learning your first lesson about being a laird—to be a good steward of what God gives you.”

“Will the lamb live?”

Sir Adam smiled. “Nola hasn't lost one yet.”

Keifer and Nola took turns feeding the lamb through the night. By morning the lamb seemed stronger. They carried her outside to relieve herself. She kicked up her heels and hopped about in pure joy. Keifer laughed at the lamb's antics.

Nola called to the lamb and it came to her, butting its head against Nola's leg.

Sir Adam joined them. “Looks like she'll make it, thanks to the two of you. We must try to find a ewe that will nurse it, or you'll be getting up every night with her.” Keifer sincerely hoped Sir Adam was successful in finding a surrogate mother for the lamb. He didn't want to spend too many nights awake every few hours as he had last night. “Why did her mother abandon her?” Keifer asked.

Adam reached down and patted the lamb. “Some don't know how to mother. I don't let such ewes breed again. She'll make a better stew than a mother.”

Nola seemed unconcerned that the lamb's mother would be slaughtered.

“How can you be so indifferent?” Keifer fretted.

“'Tis the way of things,” Nola explained.

“Aye,” Sir Adam agreed. “An ewe who can't or won't mother her lamb, well, 'tis obviously not her purpose to be a mother. 'Tis her purpose to be nourishment so that we may fulfill our purposes.”

“What is our purpose, Da?”

Adam stroked the girl's hair. “Each of us must seek the answer to that question for ourselves.”

“How?” Keifer asked, interested in spite of himself.

“Start with prayer. And keep praying and listening for the answer. Now. We best find that old ewe whose lamb died and convince her this one is hers.”

While Adam and Nola worked with the sheep, Keifer gave thought to Adam's words.

Keifer already knew his purpose—he didn't need to pray about it. He would become a warrior, a knight of such prowess that no one could defeat him. He must become strong and skilled so that he would never be killed in a foolish accident and desert his mother and sisters like Ian Macnab had done.

That evening, as the castle inhabitants were making their way to bed, Lady Gwenyth called Keifer aside. They stood beside the huge fireplace that heated the great hall. Keifer glanced at the dying fire and the servant who banked it for the night.

When he looked back at Lady Gwenyth, she studied him. Her expression was thoughtful and kind and he relaxed.

“I appreciate you helping Nola with the lamb,” she said.

“Aye, well, Nola asked me to.”

The lady smiled. “My daughter can be very persistent when she wants something.”

Keifer couldn't help but smile. “That she can.”

“You are to let me know if she becomes tiresome, Keifer. You are not required to be her keeper.”

“I didn't mind.” He said it to be polite but realized it was true. He enjoyed the little girl's infectious enthusiasm. It countered his sadness at being away from his family.

“That is a kind thing to say, Keifer. Now, on another matter. I have spoken with my husband about your sleeping arrangements. We thought perhaps you might prefer to make a pallet here in the main hall with the other men rather than in the children's room.”

He stared at her. At Dunstruan he had made his pallet on the floor of his mother's chamber. But now he was being treated like one of the castle guards. Except of course, the only weapon he had was his eating knife. Still. . .

“I would rather stay in the hall.”

“Good. I thought so.” Lady Gwenyth motioned to a serving girl who approached them carrying a bundle. “Did you bring his belongings as well?”

“Aye, my lady.”

The girl and Lady Gwenyth placed the straw-filled mattress on the rushes and then handed Keifer two woolen blankets. The hall would become chilly by morning. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You are welcome. Sleep well, Keifer.”

The lady and the servant left Keifer to settle his belongings along side his bedding. Carefully he set down the small wooden chest that held his most treasured possessions. Keifer lay down on his pallet and pulled the blankets over him. Then he leaned on one elbow and brought the chest close to him, situating it so he had light from the fire to see by. But even in the darkest night he would have known each object by touch.

He handled each one, remembering how they'd come into his possession. And in so doing, remembering as well the people who had given each item to him. Satisfied that his treasures were safe, Keifer turned the key and set the box aside.

He lay down and tucked the blankets securely around himself, then as memories and homesickness overwhelmed him, he wept. The brief spate of tears seemed to release something inside of him, and he felt stronger, ready to embrace this new turn in his life. A comforting presence gave him to know that God had not deserted him, even here in the wilds of the highlands.

As he waited for sleep, he listened to the sounds of others readying their pallets. Keifer was certainly the youngest one to sleep in the hall, and he felt proud to be included in the company of men.

Warm and feeling more at home, he drifted into a sound sleep.

The next morning, Keifer awoke to the bustling sounds of the main hall. Everyone else seemed to be awake and dressed and ready to break his or her fast. Keifer didn't want to earn a reputation as a stay abed. With hurried movements, he folded the blankets and placed his chest in the mattress before he bundled it all together for storage.

He stacked his roll against the far wall with the other men's. Then, remembering from Nola's tour where the chapel was located, he made his way there to begin the day in prayer.

As he stood with the others in the chapel, he gave thanks for his blessings. Morning prayers didn't last above a quarter hour, and soon he left and went to the main hall to eat. When he entered the hall, Sir Adam waved to him, indicating he should join him at his trestle table.

Keifer sat down with his new master. “Good morrow, sir.”

“Good morrow to you, Keifer. Did you sleep well?”

“Aye.”

“Good. You'll need to be well rested.” He indicated the red-haired man sitting across from them. “Seamus, meet your new pupil.”

The big man nodded and mumbled a greeting around a mouthful of food. Keifer stared at what was probably a normal-sized knife but looked like a toy in the man's huge hand. Seamus said, “So, my boy. Do you know how to clean a horse's stall?”

Keifer stifled a groan, knowing that he would perform this particular chore every day until he became a knight and had a squire of his own. “Aye, sir. I do indeed.”

“Good. Eat up. The day's a wasting.”

“IT'S NO USE,” Nola muttered. The key she'd found this morning in the main hall lay in her outstretched hand. Its silver gleam had caught her eye as it lay in sharp contrast to the rushes on the floor. No doubt she should have taken it straight to her mother, but what fun would that be?