By Honor Bound Part 27

"Elen." His mouth was only a breath away from hers. "How I have missed you," he whispered.

He moved, just a little. She moaned and closed her eyes.

Macbeth's homecoming feast went on for half the night. The banqueting hall was smoky with flaring torches and candles and damply burning logs. It was hot and noisy from all the people there.

Elen, in a fresh gown of moss-green wool trimmed in gold, watched Talcoran with Macbeth. The dignified, reserved man who stood by the king's chair engaged in quiet conversation was very different from the lover who had taken her so pa.s.sionately a few hours ago, and who would, she had no doubt, possess her again as soon as they returned to their rooms.

They were all alike under their stiff silk or woolen garments and their smooth, polite faces. Every man of Macbeth's company, even the priests who had gone to Rome with him-for many of them were married-had surely lain with his woman that afternoon. Elen had herself spread fresh lavender-scented coverings on the queen's bed, and had smiled at Gruach's eager antic.i.p.ation of her husband's return.

We hide it so well, she thought, but we all yearn for the same thing. Gruach, and I, and servants like Ava-what we want most is our men home safe and in our beds with us.

Talcoran came to her again when the feasting was finally done, and made love with her with the same urgency he had shown earlier. Afterward, they lay until past dawn, talking while the candles guttered low. He told her about Rome, about going with Macbeth to meet the Pope, and how Macbeth, riding through the great city, had scattered money to the poor like seed in springtime, calling it a joyful penance, and then had received from the Pope absolution for all his sins. She told him of Laggan, of the fine harvest recently gathered and his increasing wealth, and he said he was pleased and proud of her. And then they made love again, and he slept at last, his head on her breast.

Bruised, aching, but happily satisfied, Elen vowed to herself as she drifted toward sleep that she would never, never again think of any man but Talcoran, only him, her beloved husband . . . her love. . . .

20.

Summer 1053. Fife.

Fionna was very ill. She had borne a second daughter in mid-June, while she and Conal were at home in Fife. Confident of her prompt recovery, Conal returned to court a week later, expecting Fionna to follow him in early August. He received instead a weary servant, who arrived late one night, having ridden to Scone without stopping.

"The baby has died," a distraught Conal told Elen and Talcoran. "I can't understand from what my man says exactly what is wrong with Fionna. I can't go to her. Macbeth needs me at court just now. Elen, would you go to Fife in my stead?"

"Talcoran?" Elen looked at her husband for permission.

"We owe Fionna a great deal," he agreed. "I have no objection. When will you go?"

"Tomorrow. I'll leave Ava here to keep watch over the children while I'm gone, and take Briga with me, along with a chest of her herbs and potions. Perhaps she can help Fionna."

"That is what I had hoped for." Conal looked more cheerful after Elen's suggestion. "You needn't use your men-at-arms for this, Talcoran. I'll send two of my men along for Elen's protection 278.

on the way. She won't need more than that. Thanks to Macbeth, the roads are safe for travelers."

Castle Kennoway was situated on the coast of Fife, on a cliff overlooking the Firth of Forth. Conal kept a well-armed and always alert detachment of men there to guard it against the Nors.e.m.e.n who still sometimes attacked by sea. When Elen and Briga arrived, they found Fionna, a priest, thirteen-year-old Keith mac Conal, twelve-year-old Ewen, and Elen, whom Fionna had named for her friend, and who was now eleven.

"I am mighty glad to see you," Ciniod, the captain of the guard greeted Elen. "We have feared for my mistress's life. The priest is with her now."

Fionna's hot, damp chamber smelled of illness and unwashed linens.

"No wonder she's so sick," Briga said in exasperation. "I'll find a couple of serving women and we'll put clean linen on the bed and strew fresh herbs around to purify the air. Then I'll make a nice hot infusion for her to drink, and we'll wash her and comb her hair."

"Oh, no," the priest objected as Briga tore down the heavy strips of woolen cloth that had been fastened over the narrow windows. "You mustn't do that. You will let the air in. It will sicken her more."

"Nonsense," Briga said. "It is bright summer and the breeze is warm."

"My lady of Laggan, stop your servant," the priest implored. "I fear for this poor woman's life."

"We are here by order of both the king and the Thane of Fife," Elen said. "Briga knows what she is doing. I suggest that you leave. We are going to unclothe Fionna and bathe her."

"Bathe her? Heaven protect us all!" The scandalized priest fled the room.

They worked over Fionna for the rest of the day and well into the evening. First they sponged her with herb-infused water, trying to cool the fever that racked her body. Then they forced her, sip by unwilling sip, to drink cups of steaming herbal brew, which Briga said would make Fionna sweat and thus dissipate the fever.

"There is little more you can do here, mistress," Briga said at last. "Why don't you try to sleep? I'll sit with her until morning."

Elen was too tired to object. She made her way to the chamber a.s.signed to her, where she fell into a heavy, dreamless slumber.

Fionna was only a little better the next day. Elen and Briga took turns sitting with her and making her swallow Briga's herbal medicines and hot drinks. It was several days before they could be sure she would live.

"I have never seen a fever like that," Elen said.

"I have," Briga told her. "It happens too often after childbirth, and usually it kills. It is fortunate we arrived when we did."

The bright weeks slipped away toward autumn while Fionna slowly recovered. Elen found Kennoway a peaceful place. She enjoyed walking along the cliffs, frequently with her namesake Elen, or with Ewen. Ciniod always sent a man-at-arms to attend her when she went out.

"You never know what dangers may come by sea," Conal's captain said darkly.

Elen was not overly concerned by Ciniod's worries. She was too happy breathing the sharp, salty air, watching the blue sea and the gulls circling above. Her heart was light. Fionna was getting better. Before long, Elen could return to Scone, where Talcoran and her children awaited her. In the meantime, each day was a new delight.

One day Fionna got out of bed. She took only a few steps before declaring she was dizzy and needed to lie down again, but each day after that she was able to walk farther. Within a week, she was sitting in the great hall. Her appet.i.te had improved.

"Most a.s.suredly, you will live," Briga p.r.o.nounced. "You will not be completely well for some time, and you must be very careful to eat well and stay warm this coming winter, but I no longer fear for you."

"I do not know how to thank you," Fionna told her. "Or you, Elen. You came to me when I was in desperate need."

"We are friends," Elen said simply. "You have helped me in the past."

"I have some advice for you both," Briga said. "You are too old to have more children. You, mistress Elen, are twenty-nine next month, and you, lady, are thirty-two. You both have given your husbands sons. Do not risk your lives again. Let me provide an herbal potion for you that will prevent conception, and drink it regularly."

"Talcoran would never allow that," Elen protested.

"Aye, mistress, I remember well that after poor Aiden was born, your husband would not let you use it, but if you had, you would have saved yourself and him much grief."

"I cannot deny that."

"A man need not always know what his wife is doing," said Briga, eliciting laughter from both women.

Elen had seen Fionna safely into bed a few nights later, and was returning to the great hall.

She pa.s.sed a chamber set aside for Conal mac Duff, which no one else was allowed to use. He kept the records of his estates in there, and some gold, and the door was always locked.

Tonight, a bar of light showed under the door. Elen stopped. Had Conal arrived in Fife unexpectedly? If he had, she felt certain he would have gone to Fionna at once. If not Conal, who else would dare to use his room? Some thief? Should she call Ciniod, and have him bring armed men to check the room? Or perhaps it was Ciniod himself, making certain all was well.

She pushed at the door. It swung silently open. A candle sat on Conal's big, polished table, where he wrote out his accounts. She could see nothing more. She entered the room. It appeared to be empty.

Why was a candle burning in an empty room?

She heard the door click shut behind her. She froze. A gleaming dagger flashed before her eyes, and an instant later its point pressed against her throat.

"One sound," said a harsh whisper at her back, "and you are dead."

She heard the man move, heard the bolt on the door being closed. The knife at her throat did not waver.

"It is your misfortune," the harsh whisper said, "that you arrived before I locked that."

"I saw your light," she whispered, risking her life to speak.

"I will remember that and be more careful the next time." He moved, the knife at her throat making her turn so that she looked directly into the candle. Her eyes dazzled by its bright flame, she could see nothing but a dark shape when he stepped in front of her. The dagger shook, then steadied.

"Dear G.o.d," the harsh whisper came again. "Why are you here?"

Something about the man, his great height perhaps, or the set of his broad shoulders, was oddly familiar.

He wore a hooded cloak, the hood pulled up to hide his face. She strained to see his features.

"I know you," she whispered. "I'm sure I do.""Were you anyone else, those words would mean your death.""Who are you?""Will you promise me you'll not cry out?""I promise," Elen said, curiosity overcoming her fear. "Show me your face."

He kept the dagger at her throat. With his free hand he pushed back the hood.

"I can't see," she said. "Are you from court? No, I'd remember you if you were."

He moved closer to the light, still keeping the knife pointed at her, and now she saw him clearly.

Auburn curls, with a bit of silver at the temples. Deep lines radiating from bright blue eyes. A magnificently luxurious mustache. A once tender mouth grown older, harder. A square jaw with a cleft.

She must not faint. There was danger here, and she must keep her wits about her.

"Patric.""Aye, it's me.""What are you doing here?""I believe I asked you that first.""Fionna was sick. I came to nurse her.""Fionna. What's wrong with her? Where is she?"Elen told him."Thank G.o.d for you and your nurse," he said. "Now explain to me why you are here, Patric." "I came tosee my sister."

"Don't expect me to believe that, you lying traitor! You have no right to place your feet on Alban soil.You're plotting something, aren't you?"He chuckled and raised an eyebrow, but the old, bright smile did not come.

"You have grown hard, Elen. This is not the sweet, shy maiden I left thirteen years ago.""No, it is not. I have changed. It began when you deserted me. Traitor!" She hurled the word at himagain, her voice rising with unleashed anger. He caught the hair at the back of her head, pulling her faceso close to his that she could see every line in it, and now the dagger was back at her throat, its pointp.r.i.c.king into her tender skin.

"Be quiet!" he ordered. "Fionna's life depends on your silence. And your own life, too.""Did Fionna know you were coming here?""She knew nothing." He glowered at her for a moment, then let her go with a savage push. She stumbled against the table, rocking the candle. She caught it and steadied it with shaking hands. A drop of tallow splashed onto her wrist, burning her. She gave a smothered cry, and rubbed at the spot, trying to ease the pain. Her chest was so constricted with fear and something else she dared not admit to, that she could hardly breathe.

"Where is Fionna?" Patric asked, still in the same harsh whisper."In her bedchamber. She is sleeping.""I have to trust you, Elen. If you say one word about seeing me, you and Fionna and her children will all die."

"Will you do the deed yourself, traitor?" She regarded him with contempt. He was hard and cold andcruel. How could she ever have loved such a man?"Not I," he said. "But there are others whowill not let you live if I am betrayed.""It might be worth it, if they'll let me see you drawn and quartered before I die."There was a surprised silence. When he broke it, there was a sad note in his voice."Do you hate me that much, Elen?"

"More!" she hissed at him."I'm sorry. I thought you understood. I must go now. I'll see Fionna and then I'll be away from here. Idepend on your silence."

"Don't ever come back!" she whispered viciously.

He paused by the door, listening carefully before he slid open the bolt. He grinned at her, and for just a moment all the old boyish charm and confidence was there, tugging at her heart.

"Oh, but I will come back," he said, teasing her as he used to do. "Will you be waiting for me, love?"He was gone."No," she moaned, still whispering, though the need for it was over. "No, no, no."He had to be spying. He was surely in Alba to stir up trouble against Macbeth. Perhaps he was even planning to kill the king.

She ought to send a message to Talcoran, telling him about Patric. But was Patric alone, or did he really, as he had threatened, have companions-men who would intercept any messenger, then come and kill her and Fionna and the children? Patric had entered Kennoway Castle by some secret means, she was sure

of that, and his companions would know the way, too, and would enter and kill them before Ciniod and his men could prevent it.

And if her messenger got safely to Scone and found Talcoran, what would happen then?