By Honor Bound Part 9

He knew full well what Duncan's commission meant. In order to carry it out, he would have to give up everything he held dear-his family lands in Bute, his homeland, the companions.h.i.+p of his dear sister and his brother-in-law-and most of all, he must give up Elen. He thought his heart would break as he faced that certainty.

But whatever his personal pain, however deep his love for Elen, he could not forget his honor. Patric did not care what others were doing, what

excuses they used to themselves or to their a.s.sociates to explain why they broke their oaths to their king.He only knew he could not break his own oath of loyalty to Duncan, for if he did, In would becomesomething less than a true man. He would hate himself for the rest of his life, and, worse, he would beunworthy of Elen's love. He was bound by honor, and he believed that she would understand the painfulchoice he had to make. Taking a deep breath to help him shut away the bitter ache in his innermost heart,Patric went to his knees before his king and placed his hands between Duncan's own.

"I swear my sacred oath," Patric said, "that if the need arises, I will see all three of your sons safely 'toEngland, and I will never leave young Malcolm's side, except at his command or on his business, until hebecomes King of Alba." He bent his head to kiss Duncan's hands. He did not see the tears in Duncan'seyes.

6.

August 1040.

It was already too late for Duncan. Macbeth and Bancho and the other chieftains who followed their lead would tolerate no more insults from their king.

"It is time," said Macbeth, "for us to make our own agreement with Thorfinn. Give the order for our men to march."

Talcoran met Conal and Patric near the women's quarters.

"Will you come with us to Burghead, my lords?" he asked.

"I cannot," Patric replied. "I am sworn to stay with my king and to protect his children."

"I understand. I could not leave Macbeth, either." Talcoran clasped Patric's hand warmly. "We can respect each other as warriors, and dispense with personal animosity. I wish you well. And you, Conal?

Do you go or stay?"

"I stay. I, too, remain loyal to the king, and Fionna does not want to leave the queen. Our duty lies here."

"I am fortunate," Talcoran said, "that my oath is to Macbeth and not directly to the king. It is one of the advantages of common birth. Farewell, my friends."

"He may have been born a commoner," Con, mused, looking after Talcoran's dark, wiry figure, "but his heart is n.o.ble, and there is no one braver in battle."

"Aye," Patric agreed. "I hope we never meet sword to sword. I would hate to have to kill him. Now, where is Fionna? I want to see her, and then I will arrange a meeting with Elen. Fionna can help me with that. She should know where Elen is."

Elen was in the room she shared with four other young women. While the others talked with great excitement and only a little fear about the battle that would soon be fought, Elen sat quietly on a stool and let Ava comb her hair and thought of Patric. She wondered what her cousin Macbeth would do next, and how it would affect her and Patric.

She had heard Patric was in Forres, that he was with the king. She must think of a way to see him. She would find a place, some small corner of the overcrowded castle, where they could be alone. Perhaps Fionna could help her. Elen decided she would seek out her friend as soon as Ava had finished with her hair. Fionna would surely know where her brother was.

Elen's heart lifted. After all the lonely months of waiting, she was certain she would soon be in Patric's arms again. And this time she would know all there was to know of love. She would overcome his scruples and they would possess each other completely while there was still time, for in this uncertain world, who knew what the morrow would bring? As she thought of Patric's hands touching her, the strength of his young body, she felt a warm flush and knew her cheeks were reddening. What did the fate of kingdoms matter, compared to what she felt for Patric?

A sudden loud knock at the door effectively quieted the chattering young women. There was a moment of ominous silence before one, braver than the others, opened the door to reveal Talcoran and Drust, his aide.

Talcoran's dark grey eyes searched the room, quickly lighting on Elen. His voice was rough.

"Lady, tell your maid to gather your belongings. You are to come with me. We are leaving Forres."

So it had happened. Macbeth had finally broken with Duncan.

"No." Elen rose from the stool, backing against the wall as if she were afraid Talcoran would sneak behind her. "No, I won't."

How could she go when she knew Patric was at Forres? Patric! He would protect her. He would speak to Duncan, ask the king to keep her at his court. Perhaps Duncan would even let them marry at once. She was still his ward. If he commanded it, she and Patric could be married that very day, and then they could never be separated.

"I must find Patric," she whispered to Ava.

"What is it, my lord?" the maid boldly asked Talcoran. "It will take some time to pack all of this." She indicated a pile of Elen's belongings, and an opened wooden chest from which spilled various articles of feminine apparel.

"You will pack at once." Talcoran brushed aside Ava's protest. "Drust will help you, and you will follow us immediately."

While Talcoran's attention was diverted from her to Ava, Elen took advantage of his momentary distraction. She made for the door and freedom.

Talcoran was too quick for her. He reached the door before she did, and in his hand was a long, sharp dagger. He pointed it directly at her heart.

One of the other women screamed. Elen met Talcoran with outrage.

"How dare you?" she challenged him. "Macbeth never told you to use force on me."

"He and his lady have gone to Burghead. He told me to take you there, where you are to stay with Gruach. He left the means to me."

"I am the king's ward. I am under hisprotection.""He has none to offer you. You are comingwith me."Elen, glancing back into the room, saw Drust helping Ava to hastily dump her mistress's belongings intothe wooden chest. Then she saw the four women with whom she had shared the room. They werehuddled together, staring at Talcoran with expressions of terror. The only exception was a red-hairednewcomer to court who looked fascinated by what was happening.

"Crania." Elen spoke to the girl. "Grant me a

favor."

Crania nodded silently.

"Find Conal mac Duff or his lady, Fionna. Tell them what has happened to me. Ask them to tell mybetrothed"-here Elen's voice rang out proudly-"to tell Patric mac Keith of Bute to rescue me if he can. Ifhe cannot, if his duty to King Duncan prevents him, then tell him that my heart will always be his, and Iwill wait until this war is over and he comes to me."

"I know the Thane of Fife," Crania told her. "I will deliver your message."

"I will go with you now," Elen said, turning to Talcoran. "You do not need your knife."

"Nevertheless, I will keep it handy." Talcoran motioned with the blade, and Elen preceded him out the door. They walked through deserted

rooms. Many of the men and women who had a short time before filled Forres Castle to overflowing had now departed from it, some joining Macbeth, others returning to their homes to await the outcome of the war Duncan had begun. After a while, Talcoran said, "That was well-spoken, lady. Your betrothed has been my friend on more than one occasion. He is a brave man. You well deserve each other."

"Then let me go to him. My loyalty is with him and with the king, who is my kinsman. Release me, Talcoran."

"So is Macbeth your kinsman, and my loyalty is to him. I owe him everything. I will not betray his orders.

The dagger moved menacingly. Elen could do nothing but go with Talcoran to the stables, where horses awaited them, saddled and ready to ride. He helped her to mount and took her horse's reins in his own hands. Astride his great black stallion Talcoran led Elen away from Forres, away from Patric, and toward Burghead.

Macbeth's meeting with Thorfinn had been a successful one. Their agreement was celebrated with a great feast at which Gruach and Elen, along with the few other women present, were seated at the high table. Elen was placed next to Thorfinn himself. She marveled at the amount of mead he consumed.

"You do not eat," Thorfinn observed, looking at Elen over the rim of his golden cup. She was amazed to see a silver cross at his throat, hanging from a heavy silver chain.

"I did not know you were a Christian," Elen faltered.

"I am that." Thorfinn leaned toward her. His jutting nose was red from drink. He was the darkest man she had ever seen, even darker than Talcoran, and he was huge and powerfully built. Elen thought that if he wanted to, Thorfinn the Mighty could crush her with one finger. "Did you think all Nors.e.m.e.n are uncivilized, little girl?"

"I'm sure you are not," Elen said hastily.

Thorfinn smiled at her. His ugly face lit up in an expression of singular sweetness. Elen decided he was not so terrible after all.

"My mother," Thorfinn informed her, "was your father's cousin, so we are kin, as I am to Macbeth."

"Your mother was also sister to Duncan's mother," Elen reminded him sternly. "You are closer kin to Duncan. You were fostered at his grandfather's court, and it was old King Malcolm who gave you both Caithness and Sutherland."

Thorfinn roared with laughter.

"Are you still loyal to Duncan? A man who would take back a gift his grandfather bestowed? Duncan is a fool. He won't live long. Don't trouble yourself about such matters, little girl. You have a happy future before you. Leave war to men."

Elen wondered what Thorfinn meant about her future, but she had no chance to ask him, for Gruach, on Thorfinn's other side, now began to talk to him. When Thorfinn's skald, Arnor, took up his harp and began to sing a plaintive song of love and death, Elen was left with her lonely thoughts.

On the twelfth of August, Thorfinn, wearing his gilded battle helmet, and his new allies, the n.o.bles of Alba, moved their combined armies out of Burghead to meet Duncan. Elen remained with Gruach, safe behind the thick, timber-laced stone walls of the ancient fortress that jutted out into the waters of Moray Firth.

The two women spent a good part of the following day in the chapel, praying. Elen wondered what the saints must think of them. She knew Gruach was asking heaven to grant victory to Macbeth and Thorfinn, while she, Elen, could only beg humbly that King Duncan and his queen, Conal and Fionna, and most of all, Patric, would be spared. Or if not spared, then at least granted a quick and painless death. Once Elen wondered wildly if her prayers and Gruach's would cancel each other out, like counters on some heavenly game board.

She was dry-eyed. She could not eat or drink or sleep. Gruach was in little better state. They forgot that they favored opposing sides in the bitter conflict. They knew only that women had no say in such important affairs, though they must bear the bitter aftermath of war. They were kin, close cousins, and now they clung together while they waited for news.

August fourteenth dawned grey and still. A heavy mist crept in from the sea and lay over the land for the entire day. Elen, leaving the chapel at midday, was oppressed by an unshakable dread.

"No one can fight in this," she whispered.

"Inland, the sun may be s.h.i.+ning," Gruach said. "It may be the battle is already fought and won."

"Or lost."

They fell silent, and walked arm in arm from the chapel to Gruach's chamber, to spend the afternoon spinning and reading Gruach's prayer book.

The unbearable day seemed to go on forever. It was well after midnight when the messenger came. Elen went with Gruach to the great hall to hear the news.

The messenger was an old soldier, grey of hair and with a bloodstained bandage on one arm. Despite his obvious weariness he strode proudly into the hall. The guards stationed at Burghead crowded eagerly behind him.

Gruach entered and walked rapidly to the center of the room. She had donned her red silk gown, but had not taken time to arrange her hair. It hung down her back in a single, thick, honey-gold braid, as she always dressed it for bedtime. Elen watched her with admiration. Gruach did not know if she would be given good news or dragged off to the dungeon to be held as a prisoner of war-or, indeed, if she would be murdered on the spot. That, or worse, was not unheard of when a battle was lost. But Gruach gave no sign of fear. She met the messenger with simple dignity. "Speak," she said.

"Lady, I am charged by my lord Macbeth to tell you the battle is won, and to greet you as Queen of Alba. Duncan is dead, and Macbeth has been proclaimed king. My royal lady!" The man was on his knees before Gruach.