Page 52 of A Constant Blaze

Ursula brought dinner to the table in Halla’s bedchamber and then hurried off to prepare the cell next door for Mairead. Without a word of instruction, Mairead’s maid served the three other women.

After Halla had told the story of the day’s adventure to Astrid, the conversation was not lively. Mairead appeared tongue-tied and uncomfortable, twisting the daggers in Halla’s heart, for the only reason such a woman as Mairead would be uncomfortable was that she had wronged Halla.

But Halla would be no one’s victim. And so, she regarded Mairead pleasantly as she ate the hearty soup before her. “You have made a big impression upon my family,” she observed.

“As has your family on me,” Mairead said at once.

“Did you really do all this, risk so much for love of my son?”

Mairead smiled, as though grateful for the safe ground. “Not entirely. I am one of those restless people who constantly seek excitement. I married Colban, your brother’s captain, because my father bade me. I married Brian of Kingowan and carried messages to and from Malcolm mac Aed because your brother bade me. Having said that, there is very little I would not do for Adam mac Malcolm.”

“Nor he for you,” Halla said, knowing it to be true. Adam was nothing if not loyal.

Mairead met her gaze. “Is that why you came here to help me?”

“To prevent my sons from coming? Partly. But mostly because it was I who received the message first, while I was journeying southward within Ross.”

Mairead smiled suddenly. “I like your style, lady. You travel light, and yet with your own harpist.”

“Muiredach is as much friend as musician. He has become indispensable to me.”

Mairead looked back at her soup and took another mouthful. It seemed Muiredach intrigued her, but she would ask no more, either because she misconstrued Halla’s words or because she had too much pride. Or both.

*

By the timeUrsula cleared away their dinner, the monks were preparing for their supper. The women could hear the clanking of plates and the quiet, cheerful voices seeping through the tapestry and boards from the refectory. Since neither of the priory’s male guests had returned, Mairead chose to go with Ursula to the chapel for Vespers. Grizel and Astrid, who appeared to serve the Lady of Ross, went with her.

“You have been with the lady a long time,” Mairead observed to Astrid as they followed the lay sister from the women’s quarters, through the cloisters toward the chapel.

“Since she was born, more or less.”

Clearly, there would be no gossip to be had from that quarter. Instead of prying into Halla’s life as she’d meant to, Mairead said, “Then you have never married?”

“I married a man of Ross. A good man. He died fighting for the sons of Malcolm mac Aed.”

“I’m sorry,” Mairead said. “I, too, was married to a good man once.” Roaring, fun-loving Colban, first out of the boats to fight, and last to get back in, until he’d never come back at all. He’d burned bright and burned out, Mairead’s first love whom she barely remembered. Perhaps because Adam MacHeth had blocked him out so soon. That, too, had been an intense affair, and yet it felt almost as much part of her childhood as loving, faithless Colban. It was his father Malcolm who could have been her great love. Who surely would have been, had it not been for the lady who had rescued her from the prison within her own home.

She tried to draw peace from the beauty of the monks’ singing. She tried to concentrate on the meaning of the prayers. But inevitably, her gaze wandered, searching for dangers, for interest. As she glanced behind her, she saw Muiredach, watching her.

She couldn’t help it. She stuck out her tongue and turned back, though not before she’d glimpsed the surprised laughter in his face. At least that made her smile. Until she remembered that he, too, loved the Lady of Ross.

Unexpectedly, Muiredach caught up with her again as they left the chapel after the monks.

“That was an impious gesture,” he observed with mock loftiness.

“Only if it gave you impious thoughts.”

It surprised a breathless laugh from him. “Actually, it did.”

“Then I would suggest the impiety was yours alone.”

“While yours was meant to be purely insulting.”

“Purely,” she agreed.

“How have I offended you, Lady Mairead?”

She considered. “By assuming.”

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