Page 42 of The Falcon Laird
“Only wha’ all men know. He landed on Galloway shores a few weeks ago and gathers a force o’ men to rout the English. He and but a few men took Turnberry Castle from three hundred English soldiers. Henry Percy hid quivering inside the walls. Watch your towers well, Gavin Faulkener. If Bruce comes here, he’ll take Kilglassie quick and burn you out of what’s left. Your castle lacks a yett.”
“Where is he now?”
Fergus laughed. “Only those who are with him day and night know that. Even my own sons will not tell me—if they know. And I am not saying if they know or not.”
Gavin nodded. He had not expected even that much information from a local. And he was not sure he wanted to know either.
When he andFergus entered the small, warm chamber, Gavin saw Christian seated on a floor pallet, her arm around Michaelmas as they spoke with Dominy and William.
Christian looked up. “Fergus!” she said, smiling. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
“God be with you, Lady Christian.” Fergus hurried to her. “You’re thin as a reed, though you look well. Your husband, there, said you were near to death not long ago.”
“I am well enough now.” She glanced at Gavin, her eyes bright, cheeks rosy. She wore a dark blue gown taken from a chest in the underground storage chamber; the color lent depth to her eyes. A soft white veil covered her short dark hair. She wore a cloak of a mulberry wool lined with silky black fur that matched the deep gloss of her hair.
She glowed, Gavin thought, realizing that it was less from color than happiness with her child.
“Moira sent eggs and cheese.” Fergus handed her the sack.
“Cheese!” Christian said with obvious delight, peeking into the sack.
“Iain and Donal told us you came back, and that you were ill.”
“I am much better.” She withdrew a chunk of golden cheese.
“The Lord watched over you, and we are grateful,” Fergus said. “Ach, but you came back with a Sassenach,” Fergus went on, sitting beside her. Christian blushed and sent Gavin a quick glance. Leaning in the doorframe, he inclined his head at that.
She hugged her daughter. “Gavin Faulkener, this is Michaelmas,” Christian said. “My daughter. Dear, this is—Sir Gavin.”
Gavin nodded. “Michaelmas. We have met. Welcome back to Kilglassie.”
Michaelmas looked at Gavin, then at her mother. “He is your new husband?”
Christian nodded. “And your stepfather,” she murmured. Michaelmas tilted her head to look speculatively at him. Again, he had a sense of familiarity that he could not place. He smiled awkwardly, and after a moment she smiled, too.
“Will you have some cheese?” Michaelmas asked him.
“Thank you,” Gavin said, accepting the small chunk she broke off for him. He took a bite, then nodded. “I will leave you all to your visit,” he said, and left.
“Another Sassenach!” Fergusshook his head.
“Fergus, if you say that again I may scream,” Christian said.
“At least he has some Scots blood, I will give him that. And his uncle is a Scot.”
They spoke softly in Gaelic, leaning together near the fire. In a corner of the little chamber, Dominy told a story to Will and Michaelmas, who, after a supper of stew, curled on pallets made of thick blankets. They looked sleepy and content.
“I am amazed, I tell you,” Fergus said. “You rode away from here to escape the English and come back wed to one of them.”
“I had no choice.” Christian tore off more cheese, feeling as if she could not get enough of its creamy, salty taste. “Sir Gavin took me out of Carlisle and saved my life. He was ordered to wed me.”
“For Kilglassie, so you said. A cruel thing, that cage, but no surprise from Edward Longshanks.” Fergus shook his head. “Though Gavin Faulkener has a good heart to make sure you were safe. His mother was a Keith from Perthshire, he says. So he has good Celtic blood in him.”
“He told me his mother was Scottish. But I know little of him otherwise. Tell me of my Bruce cousins. Any news?”
“Iain and Donal saw the Bruce just recently,” he whispered, casting a glance toward Dominy.
“Dominy does not understand Gaelic. And she hates King Edward.”
