Chapter 4
Robina waited until the gate shut and they were well away from the wall before she said, “Benjy, I think you must give some thought to what you expect now of our people. A man gains respect not by demanding it but by earning it. If you recall, John Greenlaw and Sandy called Rab ‘Master Rab’ long after Father died.”
“I was nobbut seven then, but they should ha’ called him ‘laird,’ aye?”
“Perhaps they should, but it did not trouble Rab when they called him Master Rab, and after a time, they did call him ‘laird.’ ”
Benjy did not answer, and Tig had run on ahead.
They walked in silence for a time and then discussed other things until they reached the graveyard on a grass-covered northeast knoll overlooking the vale below.
A simple wooden cross that Sandy had made and stuck into the dirt mound was the only marker for Rab’s grave.
They had had no time yet to have a stone carved for him.
Benjy gazed at the mound of bare earth. “At first it made me sad to come here,” he said. “But now I feel closer to Rab when we do. I wish he were closer to the castle, though, so I could visit him more often.”
“You might be sorry if Coklaw is besieged again,” she said. “Some raiders destroy nearby graveyards when they attack. You would not want that to happen to Rab’s grave.”
“Nay, but this is too far. I want to visit him every day.”
She was about to explain that he could come up as often as he liked but nearly jumped out of her skin when Rab’s voice sounded right behind her:
“He can’t come here often or alone most of the year, Beany. It’s too far. Also, in winter, I’ll lie under mounds of snow. I’d like to watch him grow, though. What we need is a carved stone or marker near the wall where he can visit me.”
It was all she could do not to whirl and scold Rab for startling her. Instead, her fruitful imagination converted his suggestion into a more practical idea.
“Benjy,” she said as they turned toward home after briefly visiting their parents’ graves, “you know my favorite tree—that big oak in the woods?”
“Aye, sure,” he said. “West o’ the gate, beyond the tower clearing.”
“I go there whenever I’m angry or sad. As ancient as that tree is, I’m sure that more than one spirit dwells there, because no matter when I go or how I feel, it always makes me feel better. You could visit my tree and talk to Rab there, or—”
“Could we find a tree that’s only Rab’s?” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
“That’s a grand idea,” she said. “We’ll find a sapling, dig it up, and replant it where you can see it from your window. Then it would be Rab’s tree forever.”
“I like hawthorns when they grow into trees and are not just part of the shrubbery,” he said. “Mayhap we could make a hawthorn grow into Rab’s tree.”
Nodding, she said, “They live a long time, but even if that one dies, we can plant a new one in its place. Then Rab will always know where you expect to visit him.”
“We’ll do that,” Benjy said with a decisive nod.
“We both have chores to do this afternoon,” Robina reminded him. “But we can find a site and a good sapling tomorrow morning if you like.”
He said eagerly, “I know just where it should be. There’s a rise outside the wall, on the side of the clearing where the sun comes up. I can see it from my window, and it lies near where the woods begin again, too, so our hawthorn will be amongst friends.”
Smiling, Robina said, “You’re a good, thoughtful lad, Benjy. We’ll have a look at that site straightaway, but I’m sure it will do.”
Benjy seemed pensive as they made their way back down and spoke again only to point out his chosen site.
When they reached the gate and Shag opened it for them, the boy went to him and, looking up into the older man’s eyes, said, “I been thinking about what I said to ye, earlier, Shag, and I want to apologize. Ye should call me whatever seems fitting to ye, I think.”
“I thank ’e, sir,” Shag said. He looked at Robina and raised an eyebrow.
Aware that he was asking if she had told Benjy to apologize, she shook her head.
Shag smiled then and said, “I’d like to shake your hand, sir.”
Solemnly, the boy shook hands with him.
At Ormiston that evening, after Fiona retired, her father and Dev moved to the end of the table nearest the fire to enjoy their excellent claret.
Men in the lower hall diced or chatted and drank ale, but the dais privacy screens were up. After a time, casually, Ormiston said, “I’ve been thinking about Archie Douglas.”
Reaching for the jug, Dev said, “Have you, sir?”
“You did say he might put his own man at Coklaw, did you not?”
“So he said,” Dev agreed, pouring more wine into his father’s pewter goblet and then into his own. “I mentioned that Greenlaw has proven his ability to keep the castle safe and reminded Archie of the Percy siege years ago.”
“What did he say to that?”
“That he would think more on the matter before making a decision.”
“Then there is still time,” Ormiston said.
Leaning nearer, he added, “Sithee, you serve Douglas. You also know Coklaw and its family. And you know Wat Scott, and Wat may support an idea that has occurred to me. I’ve been mulling it over, and the longer I do, the better I like it.
You are the right man to take charge there. ”
A startling, even terrifying, vision of himself married to the decorous, ever sensitive Anne Kerr and living at Coklaw with Robina arose in Dev’s imagination so swiftly that he could not stifle a mirthful snort.
“I see no humor in my suggestion,” Ormiston said dourly.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Dev said dutifully. “But if Archie had had me in mind for the position, he’d have said so. Moreover, I cannot imagine Anne Kerr living at Coklaw.”
“Agreed,” Ormiston said, his manner still stern.
“But I do agree with Archie that in these perilous times, Coklaw must have someone in charge other than its aging steward. We don’t want the Percys seeking again to seize such parts of Teviotdale as they believe are theirs.
And, the last thing the Gledstanes will want is a Douglas moving in with them. ”
“Rab did ask me to look after them,” Dev admitted.
“When was this?” Ormiston demanded. “You’ve told me little about what happened near Chesters.”
“I don’t like talking about it,” Dev said quietly.
“Rab died in my arms, and he knew he was dying. A dozen Percy men ambushed a near dozen of us, attacking us from above with lances. It was damnably close quarters, and we were fighting with axes.” He swallowed hard, staring into his goblet, the images still painfully clear in his mind.
Ormiston, an experienced warrior himself, kept silent.
Drawing breath, Dev went on, “Rab saw a chap with a lance aimed at me and, by urging Black Corby between us, he was able to knock the lance up and away. But he was so intent on the lance that he failed to see the dirk in the man’s other hand.
The dastard got Rab in the neck, knocking him off his horse and beneath the melee. ”
“Young Rab was a reckless lad but an honorable one, and courageous,” Ormiston said. “I’m sorry we’ve lost him, but I’ll be ever grateful to him for saving you.”
“I expect I’ll be grateful one day, too, sir. At present, I grieve his loss too keenly to feel other than selfish when gratitude stirs, and deeply indebted.”
“I do understand that,” Ormiston said. “What happened then?”
“Auld Nick and Corby went for the lancer’s horse, and two of my lads got to us.
That was damned fortunate, because I’d flung myself off Nick to aid Rab.
But it was too late. He was losing blood too fast, and although Jock and the lads routed the ambushers, I couldn’t stop the bleeding.
Rab could barely speak, but he told me not to fret, that he’d always known his life would be short.
He worried about Benjy and Robina, though, and Coklaw.
He… he made me promise to keep them safe. ”
“That settles it then,” Ormiston declared. “You must tell Douglas about that promise. In fact, you must leave for Scott’s Hall in the morning. I’d go with you, but you’ll do better, I think, on your own.”
“What about Anne Kerr?”
“We’ll discuss that later,” Ormiston said glibly. “I cannot tell them not to come for Beltane. However, I will think more about Lady Anne.”
A disturbing memory fluttered in Dev’s mind that one Coklaw estate was called Ormiston. “With respect, sir, are you thinking that I might marry Robina instead?”
“You could do worse,” Ormiston said. “But we’ll think no more of bridals. You are old enough to serve as Robina’s guardian, and Benjy’s, for now.”
Angry words leapt to Dev’s tongue, but he swallowed them, knowing that defiance would only arouse his parent’s ire. It would do himself no good, either. He’d be wiser to bide his time and devise calmer arguments.
“Archie is gey contrary,” he said. “He has a hard time making decisions and tends to go counter to what anyone else suggests to him.”
“If you have learned that much about him, I warrant you can easily parley with him,” Ormiston said with a speaking look. “Ask Wat Scott what he thinks about it when you see him. He has a wise head on young shoulders, does Wat.”
Dev stifled a grimace. Wat Scott could think and say what he liked. Robina’s opinion would be a flat negative, and she would not hesitate to express it.
Nor, he reminded himself, could he expect Douglas to appoint him to the post. He was, after all, the newest and least experienced of Archie’s knights.
The site Benjy had chosen for his tree being suitable for the project, Robina agreed Wednesday morning to help him find a good sapling. So, after breakfast, they made their way painstakingly through the thick hawthorn border that separated the castle clearing from its adjacent woodland.
Benjy was particular, and since the hawthorns would not flower for another month, he found it hard to make a choice, but Robina possessed her soul in patience, knowing that the matter was important to him.