Page 52 of This Heart of Mine (O’Malley Saga #4)
“Aye, but they dinna belong to the people who live in them. They belong to the lord of the land. Only the roofs belong to the peasants. If they move, the roof goes with them.”
It took several days for them to reach Dun Broc , and, to Velvet’s surprise, they stopped well before sunset each day and only at the houses of people who were bound by oath of fidelity to the great Gordon clan. Velvet and Alex were welcomed warmly there, fed simple suppers, and given beds from which they arose before dawn to eat bowls of hot oat stirabout with honey and cream, still warm from the cow, and then went on their way.
Velvet, having been advised by Cat Leslie, was now dressed very much like the Countess of Glenkirk. She rode astride, wearing dark green trunk hose and a cream-silk shirt over which she sported a leather jerkin with bone buttons belted with a wide, brown leather belt that had a silver buckle and showed her tiny waist off to perfection. Her brown leather boots came to her knees and her auburn hair was clubbed back with a black ribbon. Atop her head was perched a velvet bonnet with one eagle’s feather in it, and she carried a Gordon plaid of warm wool should she grow chilly. Alex was dressed in his kilt as were all of his men, but in his bonnet he wore two eagle feathers denoting him as a chieftain of a cadet branch of the Clan Gordon. Only the Earl of Huntley, George Gordon, had the right to wear three feathers, and, in all of Scotland, only the king himself wore four.
Pansy was also dressed like a boy, to the delight of Alex’s men and the belligerent annoyance of her husband, who, seeing his comrades eyeing his wife’s shapely legs hugging her pony, became quite jealous. Before Pansy on her saddle rode little Dugie, although sometimes Dugald couldn’t resist carrying his son himself to both his and the boy’s delight.
Velvet’s heart began to hammer with excitement when on the third afternoon Alex suddenly said to her, “We’re now on BrocCairn land, lass.”
“Where is Dun Broc?”
she asked, looking about.
He smiled at her innocence. “ ’Tis several miles away over the next ridge of hills, but ye canna see it yet.”
They rode on through the forest, sunlit this afternoon, and around a small lake he told her was called Loch Beith, meaning birch. Indeed, the loch was surrounded by them, their leaves bright gold with the autumn sun, reflecting themselves vainly in the blue, blue loch. The sight took her breath away.
On they rode up the hills surrounding the loch, through the pine forest, and once Velvet thought she saw a fox, and another time a family of pine martens. Alex told her that the area was home to weasels, wolves, and wildcats as well. When they reached the top of the small mountain that Alex insisted on calling a wee hill, the sight that met her eyes as they stopped to rest the horses was one of incredible beauty. Below them was a small glen where the village of Broc Ailien was located as well as the manor house of his brother-in-law, Ian Grant, Alex told her. She could see a great herd of cattle grazing in a meadow near the village.
“Cattle, lass, is the sign of a man’s wealth here,”
he said. “A good deal of our wealth comes from them. We raise the cattle, and then each autumn a portion of the herd is slaughtered, then pickled, and barrels of it shipped to France, Holland, Denmark, and certain German states. I have a permit from the king to take salmon from my waters, and these, too, are exported either smoked, salted, or dried. My wealth comes from my cattle mainly, however.”
“Who ships your goods?”
she demanded, ever her mother’s daughter.
He chuckled. “In my youth I convinced my father to let me invest in the purchase of several ships, and we now ship our own goods rather than pay another to do it. Before that time we had to contract out to a middleman who usually took too great a fee and still cheated us.”
He pointed. “Look across the glen, Velvet, and then look up upon the mountain above it.”
Velvet’s eyes followed his finger, and suddenly she saw it, a castle that seemed to spring up from the very rocks of the mountainside.
“Dun Broc!” he said.
A small thrill raced through her. Dun Broc! Her home! It was not a large castle, but, oh, how beautiful it was with its battlements and towers soaring high above the glen. It would be practically impregnable, she thought. She could not even see how one could reach it, and she asked Alex.
He smiled. “Look carefully, lass. There is a very narrow, walled road that leads from the glen up to Dun Broc.”
“Then the castle cannot be attacked, can it? You couldn’t get enough of an army up that narrow road at one time to make an attack, could you?”
“Nay,”
he answered, “but we are not totally impregnable, lass. The north side of the castle sits atop the mountain on a narrow plain. Although we are walled, like any castle walls they are breachable in certain instances. Still, only once in the history of Dun Broc were those walls scaled successfully, and that was during the reign of James IV. A castle serving girl who was in love with one of the opposing soldiers let a ladder down to her lover one night, and he, after rendering her unconscious, opened the main gate to the king’s soldiers.”
“Why was the lang besieging Dun Broc?”
asked Velvet.
He smiled. “ ’Twas a small dispute over a pretty lady. The lady, however, preferred my ancestor and married him after he had carried her away. The king broke in and found them honeymooning, but instead of being angry he is said to have laughed, admitted he was well bested, and given them a wedding gift of a golden candelabra, which you will see on the sideboard in the Great Hall tonight.”
Velvet laughed. “ ’Tis a very romantic place that is to be my home.”
Then she turned, her face radiant. “It’s beautiful even from here, Alex, and I know that I’m going to love it!”
“Let’s go home then, lass,”
he said, and they began their descent into the glen.
“The earl is coming!”
A barefooted boy ran at top speed through Broc Ailien shouting, “The earl is coming!”
He was proud to be the first one to trumpet the news.
The cottage doors flew open, and the residents of the village poured forth to welcome their lord and his wife. Broc Ailien, Velvet noted, was more prosperous-looking than so many of the other villages that they had passed through. Some of the cottages had front gardens that did indeed boast flowers, and those that didn’t had boxes of herbs on the windowsills. The faces were smiling and filled with welcome; the men casting approving looks at Velvet, the women nodding slyly at one another.
“Welcome home, m’lord!”
“Welcome to yer lady, m’lord!”
“God bless ye both, m’lord!”
The greetings came thick and fast, and Velvet couldn’t help smiling. Alex, who knew each and every resident of his village, had a word for them all. “Allan, I thank ye kindly! Gavin, ye’ve gotten fat while I’ve been gone. Hae ye been poaching in my woods again, man? Jean, another bairn? This will make three in three years, won’t it?”
They looked absolutely delighted to see him, to be acknowledged so personally. He knew all about them, their problems, their strengths, their weaknesses, and Velvet could tell that they loved him for it.
There was a small village square with a Celtic cross to mark it, a small inn, and a little church in Broc Ailien. This is a good place to live, thought Velvet. Then a woman stepped directly in front of Alex’s horse. She was petite and blond, and she was holding up a child, a little girl.
“Will you not bid your daughter a good day, Alex? Have you brought her a fine gift as I promised her?”
the woman asked boldly.
“Ye should nae promise what ye canna give, Alanna,”
Alex said quietly, and attempted to move his horse by her and her child.
Alanna poked her daughter, and as if on cue the child cried out, “Papa! Papa!”
She was too tiny to say much more, but it had its effect.
Unable to help himself, Alex reached down and took the child up into his arms. “How are ye, Sibby?”
he asked, his face tender. It was obvious that he loved his daughter.
It was as if someone had thrust a knife into her vitals so sharp was the pain. Velvet turned her head away, and quick tears filled her eyes, but only Pansy saw them. The tiring woman glowered at Alanna Wythe, but the blond English girl merely tossed her head and smiled boldly.
“Is this your wife, then Alex?” she said.
Without answering her, the earl handed her back the baby, then turning to Velvet said, “We’re almost there now, sweetheart. Ye’re beginning to look tired.”
Then they moved on and rode out of the village.
Jean Lawrie, the goodwife to whom Alex had spoken, looked archly at Alanna Wythe. “Ye’d best beware, ye bold baggage! I’ve known Alex Gordon my whole life, and I can tell ye that he’ll nae put up wi’ yer forwardness, nor will he allow ye to offend his bride.”
“You’ve two daughters, don’t you, Mistress Lawrie? If you want that fine son you’re carrying to be born safe, I’d not offend me.”
Alanna’s eyes narrowed.
Jean Lawrie crossed herself. “Oh, ye’re a bad one, ye are! Ye’ll nae frighten me though. I dinna believe the tale that ye’re a witch. Perhaps ye can fool some of the younger girls in this village wi’ yer love charms and potions, but ye canna fool me. If ye’re so all-powerful, then why has yer witchcraft not kept the earl’s favor?”
“Alex loves me,”
Alanna Wythe declared firmly.
“Humph,”
snorted Jean Lawrie. “Ye’re a fool if ye believe that, lass. I saw the look he gave his beautiful wife. He’ll hae her belly filled in nae time at all, and when her son is born, he’ll nae gie ye another thought. He wouldn’t now except for wee Sibby.”
Then she flounced off, satisfied at having bested the Englishwoman.
Angrily Alanna stared after her, but then she turned to look after Alex. She had given him a child, and what was her reward? A cottage in this backwater village and a pension that could barely keep them. She detested keeping house, and no woman in the village would work for her. Sybilla was forever hanging onto her skirts, whining for this or that. Alanna hated it here, but eventually she would be back at Dun Broc with a servant to care for her and another to look after her brat. She had already begun casting charms that would bring Alex back to her and away from the proud bitch who had not even bothered to look at her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,”
Alex apologized as they reached the narrow, walled road that led up to Dun Broc.
Velvet took a deep breath. “ ’Twas not your fault, Alex, but now perhaps you’ll see why she must go. She’ll not give you up, and she uses the child to gain your attention.”
“If I send her away, God only knows what will happen to wee Sybilla, and she’s a bonny little bairn, Velvet. Surely ye saw that?”
“I did not notice, Alex, but you could give the child to some kindly village woman to raise. Surely she would be better off, and I suspect that Mistress Wythe will be happy to accept a bag of gold from you and her passage home to London.”
“God, Velvet! I dinna think a great deal of Alanna, but what kind of woman would leave her child? She’ll nae do it, I’m certain, but gie me a little time and I will try to have her gone before the winter sets in here. Be patient lass. Ye need nae see her again.”
He couldn’t know how his words wounded her, but she would not tell him of Yasaman. Instead she said, “I will see her each time I go down to the village, Alex, you may be certain of it.”
“She’d nae be so bold,”
he said, and Velvet thought how little her husband knew women.
“You cannot be sure what she will do, Alex. Remember Mary de Boult,”
she warned. Then she changed the subject entirely, asking, “Where is your sister’s house? Did you not say ’twas in this glen also?”
“ ’Tis on the other side of the village,”
he answered. “We’ll go there in a few days, but I am certain that we’ll find both Annabella and Ian awaiting us at Dun Broc. Dinna invite her to spend the night or we’ll nae get rid of her for a week.”
“Alex! She’s your sister, your only sister!”
“She’s a spoilt and willful minx,”
he answered her. “When Mother and Nigel died, she moved herself and that weak-kneed husband of hers right into Dun Broc , and it wasn’t until Father passed away that I was able to rid myself of her. She was already telling her bairns that they would inherit Dun Broc one day because I wasn’t married or likely to be so. She herself could have made a better match than the one she made, but for some reason she wed wi’ Ian Grant. I have never been able to understand it.”
They were close to the head of the road, and Velvet could see the lowered drawbridge and the portcullis raised to welcome the castle’s master. Suddenly upon the battlements appeared a lone piper whose bagpipe wailed a spirited tune that Alex told her was called “BrocCairn’s Triumph.”
The sound of the pipe hovered in the air over the glen, the notes blending one into another until the last of the melody was played in a victorious burst. Velvet could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising in excitement.
“Tis how the chief is welcomed home,”
Alex said, “and today is a most joyful homecoming for my people because ye’re with me, Velvet. They’ve long awaited their Countess of BrocCairn, lass. My mother’s been dead close to five years now.”
They passed over the drawbridge, the horses’ hooves drumming on the heavy wood, and beneath the portcullis arch into the castle courtyard. On the south wall was the stables, with its blacksmith shop and its armory. Directly before them across the courtyard was the castle itself with its walled garden. The double-arched main doors of the castle were open, and waiting on the stone steps leading to them were a man and a woman.
“ ’Tis Bella and her weakling,”
muttered Alex.
Velvet giggled. “Alex!”
she admonished.
“Nay,”
he replied. “Look at her standing so proudly as if ’twas she who was the lady of the manor. The minx should be on the lowest step awaiting us, nae on the top!”
They rode up to the foot of the steps, and Velvet got her first good look at her sister-in-law. She was wearing a deep crimson silk dress, one of her best, Velvet suspected, which flattered her dark hair and gray-blue eyes. She had a pretty, fair-skinned face, but she did not look particularly like her brother, and Velvet suspected she favored their late mother.
Alex slid easily off his horse and, turning, lifted Velvet down from hers, kissing her on the nose as he did so. She laughed up at him, and he couldn’t resist a chuckle himself. She looked so damned adorable in that outrageous riding outfit. Then, slipping an arm about her, he walked up the steps to where his sister and her husband awaited.
“Welcome home, brother,”
said Annabella Grant, but her very disapproving gaze was upon Velvet.
Alex kissed his sister in a perfunctory manner. “How nice of ye to be here awaiting us, Bella.”
He loosed his grip on Velvet and drew her forward. “My wife, Velvet Gordon, the new Countess of BrocCairn.”
Annabella Grant was forced to curtsy, but as she inclined her head, Velvet, in return, said graciously, “You need not curtsy to me, sister.”
Then, taking the surprised woman by the shoulders, she kissed her upon both of her cheeks. “I do hope we will be friends,”
she finished.
“Of course,”
said Annabella, quite flustered by this young and beautiful woman in her outlandish garb. This was not how she had imagined this meeting would go. She was, after all, her new sister-in-law’s senior by eight years, yet Velvet made her feel positively awkward.
Velvet tucked her arm through Annabella’s. “I want to know everything about Dun Broc , and since it was your childhood home, I am sure you can tell me. When I ask Alex, all he can talk about is history and architecture.”
Bella felt a burst of warmth suffuse her slender frame. Why Velvet was very much like herself. How wonderful! “Men,”
she said importantly, “simply dinna understand the running of a household, sister.”
She looked archly at her brother and her husband, and then, as if remembering something, she said with a wave of her hand, “This is Ian, my husband.”
But before Ian could open his mouth, she was chattering on again about the numerous details necessary to running a castle like Dun Broc , quoting her dear, departed mother frequently as they walked into the castle.
Alex couldn’t help but grin. Bella was incorrigible. He turned to his brother-in-law. “How are ye, Ian? Is all well at Grantholm? And wi’ my nephews?”
“Aye, Alex. The cattle ye gave us last spring hae prospered, and we’ve just slaughtered them. They’ll bring a pretty penny, and I’ll finally be able to make repairs to the roof.”
“Ye dinna slaughter all the cattle, did ye, Ian?”
“Aye,”
came his brother-in-law’s reply.
“God’s nightshirt!”
exploded Alex. “How in hell do ye expect to build yer herd if ye hae no cows to breed to my bull?”
“Bella said we couldna afford to keep the cows this winter if we were to make all the repairs needed. She said ye’d gie us new stock in the spring. That it was her right.”
“Her right? Christ almighty, man, the only rights yer wife has are those ye gie her! I warned ye that I would not help ye again, Ian. Bella has no claims to Dun Broc , and ye both well know it. Ye should hae seen that ye couldna make all the repairs necessary to yer house this year. The roof would hae been a good start. If ye’ll take my advice, ye’ll repair it and save the rest of yer money to buy fresh stock in the spring.”
Ian nodded. “I’m nae wise like ye, Alex, but I’ll take yer good advice. Bella is nae easy to live with, ye know,”
he finished apologetically.
“She needs a stick taken to her,”
snapped Alex, “and until ye do it ye’ll nae be able to control her. She’s a willful wench, Ian. For God’s sake, man, show some backbone!”
He stamped up the steps into his home and, turning back to Ian, said, “Now take yer wife home, Ian. Ye know that the road is difficult in the dark, and ’tis getting close to sunset.”
“Are we not to stay the night, then? Bella said we were to stay.”
“The hell ye’re going to stay! It’s taken me three years to bring my wife home to Dun Broc , and I dinna intend to spend our first night at Dun Broc entertaining ye and my sister.”
Annabella was outraged at her brother’s behavior, and though Velvet pleaded sweetly, Alex held firm. Within a few short minutes the Grants of Grantholm were trotting down the narrow, walled road toward the glen and their own home. The portcullis was lowered, the drawbridge raised, the men-at-arms paced upon the castle heights, and Dun Broc was secured for the night. With a self-satisfied grin, Alex returned to his wife.
Velvet loved Dun Broc from the first moment she saw it. It was not a large castle. Indeed, there was an almost cosy air about it.
The building was set firmly against the north wall of Dun Broc and ran along a portion of the northwest and northeast walls as well. The windows on these particular walls were high enough to prevent entry through them by an enemy, for it was this area of the castle that was the most vulnerable. Most of the views from Dun Broc faced south, west, and east.
The gardens on the west and southwest walls of the castle were badly overgrown, except for the small kitchen garden.
It was still warm enough, Velvet thought, that something could be done there before winter set in. At the very end of the gardens, and directly off the castle itself, was a small chapel.
Dun Broc had been begun two centuries before when a laird of BrocCairn had fortified the mountaintop and started to build upon it. The first Earl of BrocCairn had been created by James IV as reward for his support in his war of insurrection against his father, James III. The last laird had fought against his son, the first earl, and died with his king, James III, at Sauchieburn along with his two younger sons. It was said that James Gordon, the first Earl of BrocCairn, was punished by God for his rebellion against not only James III but his own father as well in that he had but one child, his son, Alexander. The second earl was also childless but for a single daughter.
Lady Alexandra Gordon, the heiress to BrocCairn, was a wild and willful girl with flaming red hair and black eyes.
At fourteen she had attracted the attention of James V, the handsome and unmarried king. For close to a year Alexandra had held the king at bay, only yielding to her liege after a handfast marriage that James Stewart afterwards denied. Alexandra had died in childbirth at sixteen, bearing the king a son, Angus Gordon, the third Earl of BrocCairn. Young Angus, though recognized by his father, was raised by his grandfather and bore his name, not the king’s. Angus was matched with Isabel Leslie who bore him two living sons and a daughter, of which Alex and Annabella were the survivors.
Since the time of the creation of the earldom, Dun Broc had grown: its walls going higher; sprouting round towers from which the land below might be viewed;
its manor house giving away to the small jewel of a castle that now held sway over the bailey.
Within the castle Velvet found a fine, good-sized hall containing two large stone fireplaces to heat it.
There were several large, beautiful tapestries hanging upon the walls, the stone floors were swept clean, and the tables were well polished. Bella’s handiwork, Velvet thought, and reminded herself to thank her sister-in-law.
The air was fragrant from the applewood fires and bowls of sweet herbs that had been discreetly placed about.
The main level of the castle also contained the steward’s office, Alex’s private library, the kitchens, storage rooms with their casks, barrels, and boxes, as well as the granaries and the servants’ hall.
There were more storage rooms, as well as the castle’s dungeon in the cellars below.
On the upper level of Dun Broc were the family quarters, consisting of the earl’s apartments, which adjoined the countess’s, guest chambers, and the nursery. The servants slept in the attics above.
Alex led his wife to the kitchens so that she could meet Dun Broc’s cook. A big-boned woman came forward at their entry, a smile upon her handsome face. Her dark hair was liberally streaked with gray, and she carried herself proudly.