Page 12 of The Refuge

Steinar did not know what he would say to the woman Malcolm intended for Colbán. Since he had turned his horse north from Alnwick, his only desire had been to be alone with Catrìona to see if there was a glimmer of affection for him in her eyes. Beyond that, he now had a pressing desire to know what had transpired a year ago in the Vale of Leven.

Once he had fetched a servant to keep vigil over the wounded, he returned to the auburn-haired beauty who haunted his thoughts. “Will you walk with me outside the tower?”

A faint smile crossed her face. “Aye, that would be most welcome. The air in here is close.”

He offered his arm. “’Tis worse in the hall with its smell of ale and celebrating warriors.”

She laughed and took his arm. “You speak the truth.”

He glanced at her linen tunic, which lacked the warmth of a velvet gown. “You might want to bring your cloak.”

She looked down at her clothing as if she had not remembered what she wore. In one corner of her apron was a bloodstain. “Oh, aye. I will change and get my cloak. I will meet you in the hall.”

He waited at the bottom of the stairs. When she finally appeared, his eyes followed her as she descended, suspecting he was not the only man who did so. She had donned a gown and a green woolen cloak over which hung her long auburn plaits .

The tree nymph . He knew then he would never tire of seeing her face, no matter what lines the years would add to it. He only felt complete when she was near.

“I am ready,” she said eagerly.

After a fortnight away from her, he, too, was eager. Only he wished they could speak of the future and not the past.

He followed her through the noisy hall and out the tower door, avoiding the gazes of the men still drinking at the tables. One of them might be the king’s captain and he wanted no interference from that quarter.

Hoping her burly guard, Angus, had not followed them, he led her away from the tower to a rock outcropping where it was possible to glimpse the blue waters of the Forth a few miles away.

As they drew near the place of the large clustered stones, he was relieved to see they were alone.

“’Tis beautiful here,” she said, gazing south to where the Forth was visible in the far distance.

Once she had settled onto a rock, he dropped to a large slab of stone across from her, meeting her gaze. “Tell me of your home, Catrìona, and what happened there more than a year ago. How did your father die?”

Frowning, she inquired, “Why do you ask me now?”

“For some time, I have wanted to ask how your father was killed and since I met you, I have been eager to learn about you and your home.”

She seemed to accept his explanation. “’Tis not easy to speak of,” she began. “’Twas a day of great horror. It did not start that way, of course. Angus and I were returning from flying Kessog above Loch Lomond when we came upon Northmen attacking my father’s hillfort. I saw it all from the cliffs above.” A shadow fell across her lovely face. “In my mind, I can hear the screams of the women and the shouts of raiders as they brutally killed our men. I can see the bodies strewn upon the ground, including those of my mother and father.” She paused and looked up, her expression grim. “I still have terrible dreams of that day.”

She began to weep and he went to sit beside her, taking her hand in his and placing a protective arm around her shoulders. “Please forgive me. I had no idea you had witnessed your father’s death.” He let out a breath, wishing he could call back his question. Wanting to let her know he understood, he said, “I know what it is to see your father slain before your eyes. I cannot forget and I expect you never will.”

She raised her head to look at him, her green eyes full of tears. “Nay, I cannot forget.”

“I understand your dreams, too. For a long time, in my dreams, I relived that long day of fighting on Senlac Hill when the Normans stormed England’s shores.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, then she looked away, staring into space, mayhap seeing again the terror she had witnessed.

He drew her closer into his chest. “’Tis all right, Catrìona. We are both far from those fields of death.”

She curled her slender fingers around his hand.

“But tell me,” he said, “these Northmen, did you know from whence they came? There have been no Northmen attacking Scotland for some time.”

“Nay, but because of the banner they flew, Angus believes they might have come from the Orkneys.”

“The Orkneys…” Steinar searched his memory for something involving the islands far to the north. “The king has Norse relations in the Orkneys. From time to time, he exchanges messages with them.”

She raised her head and turned to him with sudden interest. “Did you ever pen a message for him about the vale?”

In his mind, he shifted through the missives he had penned pertaining to the Orkneys and the brothers Paul and Erlend Thorfinnsson who ruled the islands. “I do remember something. ’Twas last summer. Malcolm sent a messenger to the brothers Thorfinnsson and asked me to write a missive for the messenger to carry, inquiring about an attack on one of his mormaers in the west. I had not thought of it because he only mentioned the hillfort’s location as being on the River Clyde.”

“My father’s hillfort was on the River Clyde,” she said anxiously. “What news did the king receive back?”

“As I recall, Paul sent a reply saying he had no knowledge of any raid on Scotland and insisted he and his brother were loyal to the king. They are his stepsons, after all. And Malcolm’s eldest son by his first wife is in their care.” Gazing into her anxious eyes, he said, “The king would not hesitate to take revenge for an attack on one of his mormaers if he knew who was responsible.”

She looked down at their joined hands, one of her tears dropping onto his hand. “My father was faithful to the king. They fought Mac Bethad together.”

He squeezed her hand. “Were any saved besides you and your brother?”

“Angus, of course, and some of the women. The Northmen took them on their ships when they sailed. My handmaiden was among them. She would be seventeen summers now.” Her eyes pleading, she asked, “What has become of them?”

He leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. “You cannot think of that now, little one. To worry will not bring them back.” He would not tell her the women had likely been sold like surplus cattle.

She turned her face and, as she did, her forehead brushed his lips.

“I have missed you,” he said, raising her chin with his finger. Her eyes were like liquid emeralds and he could not resist their power. Capturing her lips, he kissed her deeply. She responded, returning the kiss and reaching her hands into his hair.

How he wanted this woman! Not just in his bed but as his partner for life. Keenly aware she was not his to claim, he lifted his mouth from hers, speaking to himself as well as to her. “The king would not be pleased to know I claim your kisses when he may already have in mind a man for you to wed.”

She dropped her hands to her lap. “But there is no one…”

Her lips were swollen with his kisses and her eyes a darker shade of green. Wisps of auburn hair blew about her delicate face. Achingly beautiful and so innocent. Apparently she did not know of Colbán’s request for her hand. And he could not tell her.

“You do not know that,” he said with regret. “The king chooses the husbands for Margaret’s ladies. Now that you are free of the Irishman, you will be highly sought after.” He wanted to tell her he would ask for her hand but since he had already done so and been turned away, he said naught.

She shook her head as if unable to accept the possibility. “The queen needs me in her work to build an inn for the pilgrims. Besides,” she said, her gaze meeting his, “would the king not want to know if there is a man I would want?”

Could she mean him? That she might want him even though she knew him to be merely one of the king’s men caused his heart to soar with hope, but it soon died with his memory of the king’s words. He could not allow himself to think of having her. In that way lay madness. “The king gives no maiden a choice.” When she began to protest, he stood and offered his hand. “All things in time, little one. Come, we’d best return.”

***

Catrìona folded the traveling gowns she would take with her to St. Andrews and Steinar’s words came back to her. All things in time. The same words of dismissal Domnall had spoken when she laid her heart as his feet. But this was far worse than Domnall, for she cared deeply for Steinar. Once again, she had spoken too soon and received only rejection. He would take her kisses but shun her desire for more, for she would have his heart if she could. Mayhap it was her destiny to be loved by no man. If that were the case, she would rather serve Margaret all of her days than be given by the king to some man for whom she cared little.

Shrugging off the unpleasant thought, she placed her gowns in the small chest, glancing at Fia, trying to decipher her cousin’s true feelings about staying behind. She did not appear sad, but Catrìona had to know. “Do you mind awfully not going with the queen?”

Fia looked up from where she sat on the edge of her bed. “I do not mind at all, save that I wish you would take Isla with you. Her boasting and arrogance are most tiring, but ’tis possible Cristina will be less indulgent with her than Margaret.”

“You may not have to put up with Isla for long. She will depart soon after Domnall returns, do you not think?”

“Aye, mayhap.” Her cousin’s eyes narrowed on Catrìona, as if watching for a sign of sadness.

“Nay, Fia, I do not wish to have Domnall back. He could not have loved me, betraying me for the sake of coin as he did.” What she did not tell Fia was that she had found more comfort in the scribe’s arms than ever she had with Domnall’s scant attempts to console her after her loss.

Rising from the bed, her cousin came toward her and gave her a hug. “Good. I am glad you do not pine for Domnall.”

Looking into Fia’s eyes, Catrìona said, “It is just as well I go with the queen. Mayhap Domnall will come for Isla while I am away and then I will be free of them both. I will miss you, but at least I will have Audra for company.”

Catrìona closed the chest. She had not packed the cinnamon-colored gown she would wear tonight. There was to be a celebration for the king and his returning warriors and she wanted to dress for it. In truth, she dressed to please Steinar even though he had not encouraged her.

Fia resumed her seat on the bed and reached for her blue ribands. “Has Audra said aught about her father?”

“Only that he insists she travel with the queen and since Audra is willing to go, I assume he recovers.”

Fia tied her ribands onto the ends of her plaits and rose from the bed to help Catrìona dress. “Just think, Cat, you will be with the handsome scribe all the while you are gone. ’Tis a pleasant thought for you, no?”

Slipping the gown over her head, Catrìona nodded. “Aye.” Her cheeks burned with the memory of his kiss, but her countenance fell as she remembered how things had been left between them.

“I am hoping Cristina does not keep us at our embroidery all day while you are away,” said Fia. “I want to be able to watch Rhodri at archery practice.”

“Do be careful, Fia. Cristina would not approve of your sneaking away to meet the bard.”

“Aye, she is a hard one, but more easily fooled than Margaret, who sees into the hearts of her ladies. I think the queen knows I care for Rhodri.”

“No doubt she does. One would have to be blind to miss it. ’Tis all over your face when you look at him.”

“As are your feelings for Steinar when he draws your attention. I think he has replaced Domnall in your heart.”

She would not deny it. “Aye, you may be right. But our pining for those two will not lead to marriage.” Then remembering the orphan boy, she asked, “Will you look after Giric while I am gone? I will ask Niall to see to Kessog as well as the lad but you will be there when Giric comes to break his fast. I would not want him to be lonely.”

“Gladly. I will enjoy breaking my fast with the boy and his little dog. Shadow never barks during the meal.”

Catrìona could not resist the smile she returned her cousin. “’Tis because Giric feeds the whelp beneath the table. I saw him doing it when the men sat down to eat upon their return from Northumbria.”

“I should have noticed that, but the lad is quick with his hands.” Reaching for her own gown, Fia said, “You and Audra enjoy your travel. I am content to stay in Dunfermline and see to the boy.”

Satisfied Fia was not feeling left out, Catrìona helped her cousin with her gown, then turned her mind to the evening. “There will be a celebration tonight. Mayhap the bard will entertain. There must be many tales from Northumbria he can set to song.”

“Aye and some of them could tell of the archers’ flaming arrows. My heart pounded in my chest as Steinar spoke of them rushing through the air like a great wind!”

“You are as bad as Giric. His eyes grew huge as Steinar told the stories.”

“The lad is very fond of the scribe,” observed Fia.

Catrìona reflected on the time they had spent in the hall listening to tales from the raid. “Aye, and with good reason. Both Steinar and Rhodri are warriors and so would Giric be one day if he has his way.”

“I wonder what happened to render the lad an orphan,” said Fia.

Catrìona had wondered the same thing many times. “The queen never speaks of the boy’s beginnings and I have been too much the coward to ask.”

***

That night, as Catrìona descended the stairs with her cousin, the mood of the crowd gathered to celebrate the king’s return was festive. Warriors, now bathed and shaved, were carrying on lively conversations with the women from the village invited to share the feast.

At the bottom of the stairs, the king’s captain waited, wearing the copper-colored tunic .

“My lady,” Colbán said, bowing before her, “allow me to escort you and your cousin to your table.”

An uncomfortable feeling swept over Catrìona as she placed her hand on his offered arm. Shooting a glance at Fia, she said, “We would be honored.” She was certain his request was in the nature of an order.

He deposited them at their table and strode away.

Fia whispered, “I told you those falcons would mean trouble. I have the feeling that man was marking territory.”

“Surely you are wrong,” she said, hoping it was true. “He was merely being gracious to one of the queen’s ladies who did him a kindness.” At first she had been glad he had not found fault with her stitchery, but his attendance on her now caused her to wonder.

While the men had been away, Catrìona had begun the blue tunic for Steinar, oddly happy to be sewing for him when she had not liked similar tasks done for others.

“Apparently the king’s captain did not look closely at my stitches,” she remarked to Fia, “or he would have been frowning.”

“From what I could see,” said her cousin, “the work was not lacking. Besides, ’twas not the stitches that garnered his attention, ’twas you.”

“But you said he looks at all the queen’s ladies. Surely it is Elspeth who holds his attention, not me. He seems to bask in her flirtations.”

“Elspeth showers him with attention, aye, but I cannot imagine a man like Colbán content with her for long.”

A few seats away, Elspeth laughed merrily. “She is yet young,” said Catrìona. “You remember how we were three years ago.”

“Incorrigible,” said Fia. “And mayhap you still are.”

That brought a smile to Catrìona’s face. “Aye, mayhap I am.”

The food that night was an amazing array of fish, game and roast boar. The kitchen must have been preparing the various dishes since the messenger had come with news of the king’s imminent return. Despite the men having eaten when they returned, they devoured the food on their trenchers and consumed many goblets of wine.

Catrìona sipped her wine, snatching glimpses of the golden-haired scribe at the other table. His words about her now being free to wed came back to her, causing her to worry. She hoped the king had no plans for her. What would she do if he did ?

When Rhodri’s entertainment concluded and all the stories had been shared, Margaret slowly rose and, begging leave from the king, stepped down from the dais. Her searching gaze fell upon her ladies and Catrìona rose with the others, relieved to leave the boisterous noise of the male celebration behind her.

***

Steinar checked Artair’s saddle and the pack he had slung over the horse’s back, eager to be on the road. He had never been very far east of Dunfermline and certainly not as far as St. Andrews, but now that Scotland was his acknowledged home, he was glad for the chance to see more of it. And he was glad to have days with Catrìona away from court even if the king’s captain would be accompanying them.

It took some time for the party to be ready. Malcolm himself insisted on inspecting the cart his queen was to ride in, scolding a servant for insufficient pillows. Once that situation was remedied and the provisions and chests secured, the king settled Margaret into the cart and Colbán assisted Audra to sit beside her.

Steinar was unsurprised to see a servant leading Catrìona’s horse from the stable. While Colbán was issuing orders to the other guards, Steinar helped Catrìona to mount her horse next to the queen’s cart.

Checking the stirrup, he glanced around but did not see the ever-present Angus. “Your guard does not go with us?”

“Nay,” she said settling herself in the saddle, “the king’s captain persuaded him that I would be well protected by the guards attending the queen.”

“Why do you not ride with the queen and her other lady?” he asked, knowing the answer but hoping he could tease her into some spirited reply.

“I would not be so gently seated.” Shooting a glance at the queen whose maidservant was assisting her efforts to get comfortable, Catrìona said, “I can see more from my horse and enjoy the diversions the road has to offer.”

“Well, then, you can ride beside me as I’m to lead the party while the king’s captain and most of the guard will ride on either side of the queen. ”

“If I must,” she said, as if greatly affronted. Her smile told him she was not.

The queen gave Catrìona an odd look but then Margaret was unused to the back and forth exchanges he enjoyed with her lady.

Today, the weather was warm and Catrìona had chosen to wear a simple linen gown, her cloak slung over the back of her saddle. Her hair was formed into one long plait that hung down her back like a crimson rope, the end of it dangling tantalizingly below the edge of her saddle.

“And what of your falcon?” he asked. “Did you leave the bird behind?”

She frowned, her disappointment evident. “Alas, I must. I just looked in on Kessog this morning. He is never too happy in the middle of a molt but today he was quite disgruntled. His feathers were all askew and he bristled on his perch as I left. ’Twas as if he knew I was going somewhere without him and was chiding me for not taking him despite his untidy appearance.”

Steinar chuckled but he well understood the falcon’s discomfort. He, too, would bristle should he be forced to wave her goodbye as she hied off to some distant place without him. Nay, he would not think of the day that might come to pass. For now it was enough they rode together. He would relish his moments with her and wait to see if she welcomed the attentions of the king’s captain before he lost all hope.

Bowing his head to the queen, he bid Catrìona to follow as he kneed his horse toward the front of the score of riders. Soon, they left the tower behind and took the path leading northeast from Dunfermline.

Above him, the sky was a cloudless blue. The path took them through green meadows edged with wood sorrel and butter-colored flowers. On either side of the meadow tall pines rose high above them. In the distance, he could see low hills. This part of Fife was proving to be most pleasing to the eye, especially when he rode beside so comely a woman.

“Where will we lodge tonight?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over the grass-covered hills stretching before them bounded by deep woods.

“Would you be disappointed if I said in an open field?”

She laughed. “Would you be surprised if I said, ‘Nay’?”

He chuckled. “My lady, after your jaunt in the woods and dip in the burn, nothing you do would surprise me.” She was about to protest, he was certain, so he added, “Lest you worry, the king maintains a manor house a few miles southeast of Loch Leven in Ballingry. From the sketch I looked at of where we are headed, ’twill bring us about a third of the way into our journey.”

“I have not had such a long ride since coming to Dunfermline,” she said wistfully. “I will enjoy it.”

“Then you have no complaints?”

“Quite the opposite, sir. I am pleased beyond measure to be outside, free of the tower’s small chambers and, dare I add, free of my needlework.”

He smiled. “You do not love your stitching as the other ladies do?”

“Rarely. But recently I have found a new interest in embroidery, a design of my own.”

Immediately he pictured the copper-colored cloth she had presented to Colbán. He had seen the captain wearing a tunic of the same color that evening in the hall, embroidered with what looked like falcons. Only she would have stitched such a design. The thought she might have enjoyed sewing for Colbán made him regret having asked the question.

A short while later, his mood darkening, Steinar called a halt to the procession. “We break here for a short while. The queen will be weary and we’ve the horses to water.” Gesturing to a nearby stand of oak, he said, “There is shade among the trees, my lady.”

***

Catrìona could not imagine what had come over Steinar. Without another word, he abruptly turned his horse and swept back toward the queen’s cart. The shade of the trees could wait. She would not be directed to the woods when her mistress might need her. Following the moody scribe, Catrìona urged her horse back to where the main group had stopped.

“Allow me to help you,” said the king’s captain turning to her, having just helped the queen to alight from the cart. While Colbán reached to help Catrìona down, Steinar assisted Audra. Catrìona fought the feeling of jealousy that washed over her .

Placing her hands on the captain’s shoulders, she felt his powerful hands circling her waist as he lowered her to the ground. “Thank you, sir. You are most gracious.”

“Why not ride in the cart with the queen for the rest of the day, my lady? ’Tis likely more comfortable and you might enjoy the company of the other women. Riding all day on a horse is not for a lady such as you.”

She handed the horse’s reins to a waiting servant. “Nay, sir. I prefer to ride. I am quite used to it. Besides, Audra can keep the queen well entertained.”

He frowned, his displeasure clear, but he did not challenge her further as they walked to join the others. A short time later, a servant spread a cloth beneath the nearby trees and they sat in the shade enjoying a bit of food. ’Twas a small meal but welcome and Catrìona was happy to see the queen ate the bits of cooked game, cheese and berries. Margaret often ate little but mayhap for the sake of the babe she carried, Audra had convinced her to eat.

Beneath the trees, sunlight filtered through the branches, falling onto the small party sitting with the queen. Robins, flitting about in the trees and foraging on the ground, tittered and chirped, making their presence known. A breeze wafted through the air and Catrìona leaned back on one arm, admiring the beautiful afternoon.

Several members of the guard had joined them as well as the queen’s maidservant, an older Saxon woman whose brown plaits were laced with gray. She was very attentive to Margaret, leaving Audra and Catrìona free to converse with the men.

Colbán eased himself down beside her. “I would sit with you, my lady, if you would allow it.”

“Aye, your company is welcome.” As long as Steinar was in a black mood, she might as well enjoy Colbán’s company.

He offered her more ale.

“I will fall off my horse do I drink any more of that heady ale, good sir,” she said, declining. “But I thank you for the offer.”

He entertained her with stories of his early days with the king. She was not disinterested, but what held her attention even more was the way Audra, sitting a few feet away, stared adoringly at the man. ’Twas the same way Fia stared at the bard. Did Audra hold a tendre for the brash captain? As she listened to the warrior with the red beard and warm brown eyes, who regaled her with tales of his early battles, she pictured a bear, dangerous and cunning, but potentially soft with the right woman. Could Audra be that woman?

Out of the corner of her eye, Catrìona glimpsed Steinar conversing with Audra. The twinge of jealousy she had felt earlier returned for he appeared to be enjoying the company of Duff’s daughter. She chided herself for it. Audra was kind to everyone, not like Isla of Blackwell. Besides, Catrìona might wish it otherwise, but she had no claim on Steinar.

Still, she watched him, thinking how unlike the other warriors he was. His manners were elegant, he was lettered and he treated her as an equal. She had responded willingly to his kisses, but it was more than attraction she felt for him. She respected him above other men. Few warriors would grant her the freedom to speak her mind as he did. Fewer still cared to hear what she had to say.

If Colbán was a great bear, Steinar of Talisand was a sleek golden panther, both creatures of mythical proportion and neither easily tamed.

***

Margaret watched her two ladies as they sat eating beneath the trees, drawing the approving glances of the king’s guard sitting around them. Each woman was lovely and each had qualities a husband would treasure.

But they are so different .

Catrìona was a spirited beauty, willful, intelligent and courageous, who harbored deep hurts from the loss of her family and betrayal by the man she had thought to wed. Like a fast-moving river, obstacles were nothing to her. She went over them, like water over rocks. Catrìona needed a strong man with a tender heart to love and protect her, but who would not stifle her spirit. One who, after Domnall, would be ever faithful.

In contrast, Audra was a sweet woman, amenable to all, a placid loch that ignored obstacles, consigning the rocks to her deep waters. She would expect less and tolerate more than the fiery Catrìona. But she needed a man who would hold her in high regard.

One would challenge a man; one would bend to a man’s demands with never a contrary word.

Would Audra make a better companion for the English thegn’s son who had been exiled to a country not his own, a man who harbored his own ghosts from the past? Though Catrìona and Steinar had worked well together on the plans to build the inn, only this morning Margaret had observed the two exchanging words that made her think they did not suit. And now Steinar sat with Audra and Catrìona with Colbán.

The king’s captain was strong enough to handle a woman like Catrìona. Both she and Colbán were Gaels, children of Malcolm’s beloved Alba. And she had not forgotten that Audra’s mother and younger brothers had been killed on the order of Mac Bethad of Moray, the land of Colbán’s people. Mayhap she had been wrong in thinking the king’s captain might be better served by the gentle Audra.

Margaret vowed to carefully observe them to determine if this new thought was correct. She cared about each of the ladies placed in her charge and she knew from her own experience that the crown of happiness in a woman’s life, absent taking the veil, arose from a happy marriage.