Page 46 of A Constant Blaze

Halla gazed at him thoughtfully. “You know, it’s possible you’ve been wasted as a mere musician all these years. Let us sleep on this, and tomorrow, we’ll go to this priory of Mairead’s.”

Chapter Twelve

As a youngman, Malcolm had always found monasteries and churches to be peaceful places. But the monks’ chapel was small and the priory closed in behind doors and walls that it seemed he could no longer bear. He’d chosen to come here for reasons of discretion and secrecy. A traveling nobleman retreating into a monastery for a few nights was nothing out of the ordinary. A nobleman camped alone under the stars with no following was a curiosity.

He left morning prayers before the service was even finished, saddled his own horse, and rode out alone. Keeping away from the road, he moved around the edges of the wood until he found the signs of a campsite. The fire had been kicked over. A tent had been pitched and struck. He found signs of about six horses of varying sizes, which accounted for all of Halla’s party and a packhorse.

Unless they meant to abandon their baggage or ride two to a horse, they would need another mount for Mairead. But he was sure they hadn’t released her already. There had been no sign of her among the people welcoming Halla last night.

Before he returned to the priory, he checked the place he’d struck down Brian of Kingowan’s soldier. Both the man and his sword had gone.

It was time, he decided, to ask the prior about Mairead. See if she’d acquired a companion prisoner in the shape of Halla’s tame harpist. As he rode back to Restenneth Priory, it struck him there weren’t very many animals for such rich, farming land. A few cattle and sheep, a few scattered pigs and goats, but none in any quantity.

Then he remembered his sons had raided here by land and sea only a few months ago. The story went they’d carried off all the cattle in the area, but since the king had proved not to be in Kingowan, Adam had kindly left the lord with one cow and one bullock. Malcolm grinned to himself before he also remembered Mairead’s precarious position. It really wouldn’t be good for her to be connected with the MacHeths.

The monks and their lay brothers were hard at work in the fields and gardens as he rode through the priory gates. He dismounted in front of the stable and waited for the monk in the doorway to lead another horse out. It was the same monk, Brother Andrew, who’d let him in last night, only now he was smiling as he uttered a cheerful greeting. Malcolm led his horse inside and unstrapped the saddle. He was hanging it up when he heard the young monk’s voice again, speaking respectfully to someone he called lord. So, not the prior but, presumably, the house’s other shy guest.

Leaving the horse in its stall, Malcolm walked to the side of the door, and from the shadows, peered out into the yard. As the young monk held the horse’s head, a slight, wiry man vaulted into the saddle.

Twenty years had not been unkind to Fergus, Lord of Galloway. There was a touch of grey in his once-black curls, and even over this distance, his face had developed a distinctly lived-in, craggy look. He didn’t have an easy life, preserving his country, which he insisted on calling a kingdom, from England, Scotland, and, by all accounts, the turbulence of his own sons. Malcolm could sympathize. Everyone did their best for their family’s position, but in luring Donald into his trap, Fergus had committed one betrayal too many.

Malcolm’s fingers closed around his sword hilt.

But this was hardly the place to settle violent scores. Besides, if Fergus was here now, he was surely involved with Brian of Kingowan and with Mairead’s captivity. Mairead had said Fergus knew somehow about her visits to Roxburgh. Had he informed the husband? Was he the reason Mairead was imprisoned?

Dear God, what if Fergus ran into Halla? He was one of the few Scottish nobles who had met her and could identify her unequivocally, even in her ridiculous male costume.

And what if Fergus had seen him ride in? Would he know Malcolm MacHeth now? His own wife hadn’t, but it had been dark in the woods.

One thing was certain, everyone needed to be warned of Fergus’s presence here.

*

Halla, once morewearing a tasteful, unostentatious gown of fine green wool, was shown to the separate women’s quarters.

“We are your only guests?” she asked Sister Ursula. The woman was not a nun, but a lay sister who would see to their needs.

“The only females. We have a nobleman and a crusader on the other side.” Ursula opened the door to a room containing a bed and a mattress on the floor.

“My wish is to be private,” Halla told her.

Ursula shrugged. “I can serve you meals here in your room. And you may come and go from here without using the main entrance. Look.” The woman pointed to the end of the passage. “Turn the corner and walk up the steps. The door remains locked at all times, but the prior will give you a key.”

“That will be most helpful,” Halla said warmly.

Ursula shrugged again as if she couldn’t understand Halla’s concerns. “The gentlemen are as concerned with privacy as you are. You are unlikely to meet them even if you dined in the refectory.” She hesitated, then beckoned Halla once more to the chamber door, from where she pointed to the large tapestry at the near end of the passage. It depicted a somewhat gory hunting scene and seemed rather old and worn. “That divides the women’s quarters from the refectory. You might occasionally hear voices, but the brothers are a peaceful lot. And the tapestry doesn’t just hang. It’s nailed in place.”

Halla nodded. Against marauding invaders, it was hardly a defense, but in this place, it should suffice. “I am hoping to meet another guest here for a few days. A lady who has, I believe, been generous to this house.”

Ursula’s eyes widened. Isolated or not, they all clearly knew of Mairead’s troubles. “She will be most welcome as always. Does the prior know?”

“Of course.”

Sister Ursula bowed. “You are a good lady.”

As Halla went into her bare chamber, she reflected that Ursula might not say the same if she knew that it was Halla’s sons who had plundered the land only a few months ago with her blessing.

Closing the door behind her, Astrid said, “This is ridiculous! If we are separated from the men, how will we speak to Muiredach, or summon the men?”

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