The Promise of Peace (9 page)

“So the truce may not hold?”

“Aye. There may be war!”

He was smiling. Smiling at the prospect of more conflict.

“You needn't look so happy that we may be at war again,” she said crossly. But Keifer seemed unaware of her dismay, so his news must be wonderful. “So, tell me your news.”

He pretended to think.

“Keifer!”

He laughed, throwing his head back in that way he had that she loved to watch. “All right. The most wonderful thing about the trip is that Sir Bryan Mackintosh has agreed to take me on as a squire. I will become a knight as I've dreamed!”

Nola forced her smile to remain on her face. “That is wonderful. When will you leave?”

Eagerly Keifer grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “In the spring.”

Nola could feel her smile fade despite her effort to be happy for him. She stopped walking.

Keifer let go of her hand and they faced each other. “What is wrong?”

She sighed. “I am happy for you, truly I am. But I will miss you.”

“And you will be stuck here with no hope for an adventure, right?” He made a sympathetic face.

“Aye.”

“Then I will persuade your father to bring you to my knighting ceremony. It won't be Paris, but it will be out of the glen.”

“That will be wonderful, but it will be years from now.” She felt her shoulders droop. “Sometimes I wish we were older.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Why?”

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Because then we could marry and I could go with you.”

“Marry?”

“Well, you needn't look at me as if I've suggested cutting off your head!” She turned on her heel and stalked toward the door.

“Nola! Wait!” He caught up with her and spun her to face him.

“I . . . you surprised me is all, Nola. You have another year or so until you are old enough to be betrothed, let alone married.”

“I could be betrothed any time father wishes. We can promise ourselves to each other, Keifer. Then when we're older—”

“Nola. I told you long ago that I don't think I want to marry.”

“I know.” And she did know. She had hoped he would forget or change his mind by now. “I know you are afraid you'll die and leave your unfortunate wife bereft.”

“Unfortunate?”

She looked at him. “Aye. Such a glum outlook would have her on her knees praying for you half the day and into each night.”

He bent down and picked up a fist of snow. “Unfortunate, you say?”

“Keifer,” she warned. “Don't you dare throw that at me.”

He looked down at the ball of snow in his palm and then at her, as if trying to decide. With a dramatic sigh, he dropped it to the ground, then took her arm to escort her.

They walked in the cold air, heading toward the promise of warmth in the keep. Smoke rose from the central chimney, seasoning the air with the smell of burning wood.

“If I were to marry, you would be first on my list of prospective brides,” he said, his voice solemn.

“You are such a tease.” She had tried to resign herself to Keifer's decision about marriage, but it wasn't easy. She could easily imagine herself as his wife someday. Would he meet someone else who would change his mind? “I won't have anyone to go fishing with when you are gone.”

Keifer grinned. “Or to pull you from the water.” He sobered. “And who will tease me into a good mood when I get grouchy?”

Nola wondered, who indeed?

THE SNOW ENDED with just a few inches of powder, not enough to spoil the celebration but enough to make the countryside beautiful. Keifer loved Christmas at Moy, and he awoke the next morning in happy expectation. It felt good to be home.

After breakfast he helped Sir Adam hitch the oxen to the sled they would use to haul the Yule log. While the men loaded a saw and axes, the women prepared a basket of food and drink. With a good deal of laughter and some shoving by the little boys, Lady Gwenyth and young James were settled on the sled.

The others walked as they made their way through the forest. They searched for pine, juniper, holly, and mistletoe and brought it back to the sled. Later they would use the greens to decorate the hall.

Soon the sled was too full for anyone to ride, so Keifer gave James a ride on his back. As he trudged through the snow, listening to the shouts of Nola and her brothers when they found some greenery, he felt a pang. In spring he would leave for Homelea and his training. It would be years before he spent such a day with these people again.

He shifted James's weight and dodged an errant snowball.

Family. This is what he would miss if he did not marry. Watching Sir Adam throw snowballs at the boys reminded Keifer of all that he had missed with his own father. Despite being welcomed into this family, Keifer felt like a piece of him was missing.

Adam, for all his faults, was good to his family, and treated Keifer as one of his own. Keifer had to give him credit for that. If something were to happen to Adam . . . Keifer steeled his heart. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't get too close to these people? Just then James grabbed for a branch and missed. He lost his balance and snatched Keifer's hair to keep from falling.

“Mind what you grab, James!” he growled. He stopped and set the boy on the ground.

“Come here, James,” Sir Adam called. “Leave your brother be.”

Brother. The bonds of fosterage were lifelong. He scowled, suddenly too close to tears for comfort. He did not want to love this family, but it was too late. This time with them had shown him a father's love, taught him to be a man. At the same time he'd been safely hidden away from his uncle while he grew to manhood. Aye, Morrigan had chosen well when she sent him here.

The sled had stopped, and Sir Adam led the way to the log he had picked out earlier in the fall. Shaking off his melancholy, Keifer helped Adam hitch the oxen to it. They dragged the Yule log through the woods and back to the castle. Six men were needed to carry it inside and maneuver it into the hearth.

That evening, Christmas Eve, Keifer watched as Nola lit the fire with a piece saved from last year's Yule log. Lady Gwenyth threw a bit of holly on the flames to burn up this past year's troubles.

As she did so she said, “I pray our Savior will keep us safe in the year to come.”

They all sat around the great fireplace as the Yule log smoldered, waiting for it to catch fire and burst into flames. The younger children's eyes were heavy from the warmth and a day of activity in the cold air. James had evidently forgiven Keifer for his shortness earlier, because the boy snuggled against his side and yawned.

Nola said, “My favorite is the mistletoe with its bright white berries.”

“Aye. It symbolizes our prayers for goodwill and peace to all our friends who will come for the feast tomorrow,” her mother said.

“Too bad we can't find some of that peace with England,” Adam grumbled.

Keifer prayed for peace even though he hoped it wouldn't come until he'd had his chance to fight.

The nobles of Scotland had signed a declaration at Arbroath last April outlining their grievances with England. The decree had been sent to the pope in the hope that he would recognize Bruce as Scotland's rightful king.

“Recite the declaration to us again, Sir Adam,” Keifer said. “Perhaps the coming year will bring peace.”

Adam went to his desk and took a piece of parchment from it. He began to read, and as Keifer listened to his country's impassioned plea, he was determined to become a warrior who could fight for freedom.

He focused again upon Adam's voice. “. . . for so long as there shall be but one hundred of us remain alive, we will never give consent to subject ourselves to the dominion of the English. For it is not glory, it is not riches, neither is it honor, but it is freedom alone that we fight and contend for, which no honest man will lose but with his life.”

“Oh my,” Lady Gwenyth breathed. “I am moved each time I hear it.”

Even the younger children sat up a little, as if they felt the impact of the words.

Again the lady spoke. “Those are not the words of peace.”

Adam responded. “England leaves us with little choice. We've sent this declaration to the pope to gain his favor for Scotland's cause. He must recognize Bruce as our king if we are to have any hope of peace with England.”

Adam looked at Keifer. “Have you told anyone of your news?”

“Only Nola.” He grinned and turned to Lady Gwenyth. “I'm to train with Sir Bryan Mackintosh.”

Lady Gwenyth's face broke into a sad smile and she said, “I'm glad for you, Keifer. But I will hate to see you go.”

Though he, too, dreaded the good-byes that would have to be said, Keifer looked forward to training for battle. Because despite the pretty words in the declaration, he doubted the troubles with England would be over any time soon.

ON CHRISTMAS DAY many guests came to share a traditional feast. Keifer recognized William Macpherson and his wife, Suisan, and their son, Will, who was a year older than Nola. Though Will was near Keifer in age, the two had never struck up the kind of friendship that would entice them to travel the half-hour walk between their homes.

After greetings and taking the Macpherson's offering of food to the kitchen, Suisan went with Lady Gwenyth.

The men took up places around the fire, the great Yule log still burning, though other wood had been added. Keifer sat with them, but their talk of lambs and farming soon lost Keifer's interest. He wanted to hear about great battles and brave deeds, not which fields should be sown in oats next season.

Lady Gwenyth came back into the hall and, seeing Keifer, called him to her. “The ladies and I will take the smallest children with us.

But I would like you to watch over Nola and the others for me. See they come to no mischief.”

Suddenly the planting of oats sounded rather appealing. But the lady wasn't really asking if he wanted to watch the others for her. He tried not to let his expression convey his aversion to the task. “As you wish, my lady.” Sixteen and still watching children. He couldn't wait to leave and begin his training.

His dislike of Will Macpherson increased as the afternoon wore on. Will was comely and he knew it. He insisted that Nola be his partner in the games they played. Nola didn't seem to mind, but Keifer did.

At thirteen, Will resembled his father in looks—dark coloring and a well-built form. Morrigan had told Keifer that he looked like his father, Ian. Keifer wished he could see it for himself. Wished his da had been in prison instead of Uncle Angus.

Sir Adam, Seamus, even Ceallach, had all done their best to teach Keifer what he needed to know. But Keifer needed to know things about himself that only his father could teach him. Without him, Keifer wasn't sure who he was supposed to become or how he came by his likes and dislikes. Keifer envied Will his relationship with his very much alive father.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that caused Keifer to be impatient with Will.

He watched Will pull Nola's braid and remembered Morrigan telling about their older brother's teasing. If Will teased Nola, did that mean he liked her or not? Keifer scowled. Nola was his friend, not Will's.

Was he jealous? Of Nola and Will? He pushed aside the silly notion. He and Nola were friends, nothing more. After all, Keifer didn't intend to marry. And she was still a child and he nearly a grown man. Come spring he would begin to train in earnest. He most certainly was not jealous.

Until he caught Will giving Nola a kiss.

It was but a wee one, more of a brother's kiss to her cheek, but it made her blush, and in turn, made Keifer blush in the watching of it. They were right pretty together, those two. He ought to be happy for Nola that she had an admirer.

But he wasn't happy. He felt all churned up inside, like Cook's butter. And perhaps a bit curdled as well. It was time to move on. He was not a man who got caught up in the goings-on of children playing at romance. He was a knight in the making!

WHILE THE MEN FINISHED THEIR TALK in front of the fire, Gwenyth led Suisan Macpherson to the solar, where the other women had adjourned with the smallest children.

When Eva, Adam's mother, saw Suisan and Gwenyth enter, she raised her eyebrows then went back to her sewing. Long ago Suisan had spurned Adam's offer of marriage. Adam had been gravely wounded, nearly died. And Suisan hadn't wanted to marry a man who might be a cripple the rest of his life.

Gwenyth smiled. Adam was far from crippled, and Gwenyth was glad that Suisan had been such a shallow young woman. Though her rejection had caused Adam a good deal of anguish, it had allowed for Gwenyth and Adam to fall in love and marry.

Despite Suisan's past behavior, Gwenyth had come to enjoy her visits with the Macpherson woman. Suisan was a gifted musician and a devoted wife to William, as well as a good—if overprotective— mother to her son.

Gwenyth settled Suisan on a bench and sat down next to her mother-in-law.

Gwenyth could see that Suisan was breeding again. The poor woman seemed to be in this condition every year, and yet only her firstborn, a son, had lived beyond infancy.

Children were a blessing from God, to be welcomed no matter what. But Suisan's poor bairns rarely lived beyond a few days or weeks, it seemed. Perhaps if she were stronger she might produce stronger babes.

Gwenyth considered how she might bring up the subject without offending her guest. “Did William go down to Berwick?”

Suisan had taken out her spindle and wool. “Nay. Said it was too far to travel in winter. But Adam went, didn't he?” Suisan fed some wool onto the spindle as it dropped and spun.

“Aye, he did.” She repeated the declaration Adam had read to the family last evening.

Eva looked up from her sewing. “What other news did Adam bring home?”

Gwenyth thought for a moment to decide what news might be of interest to her guests. “They have settled the succession on King Robert's grandson and namesake.”