Chapter 2
Southwest of Loch Lomond, Highlands of Scotland, eight years earlier
“Do you promise we shall be together always, Callum MacCade?” Callum heard his beloved Nella whisper, the warmth from her breath brushing his lips with a caress like a butterfly’s wing.
“Always and a day,” Callum vowed. Her eyes met his. Oh, there were those gold flecks in the center of her rich doe gaze, just like a primrose. Such a clue about what a golden treasure she was.
Nella’s arms circled around his neck. “A day?” She cocked her left eyebrow at him. “Our day begins upon the morrow.” Finally, the time was upon!
“Aye,” he agreed. Tightening his arms about her as they nestled beneath the large oak while he took a deep breath, the scents from baked bread and hum by conversation lingering the air when the breeze caught just right from market day in the nearby burgh.
“Nella, we will meet at our bridge upon dusk?” Please… please say aye.
Did his heart race from desire or the chance they were about to undertake? Both.
“Are you certain?” Her brow furrowed. “To turn your back upon the post of chief for your clan” – didn’t matter – “in want to steal away in secret with a rival clan’s lass. Your sire shall harbor wroth as none other at you.” Always. She always worried and wanted what was best for him.
His palms gripped her hips more. “Nae. A grand sigh by relief will be his consideration that my younger brother Aonghus shall take my post.”
“Callum, where shall we journey?” His lips lingered on the flesh beneath her wimple in a warm trail by kisses, salty and delicious and magnificent and his.
“My skills with the bow, I may seek a lord’s estate as a huntsman or mercenary,” he stated. His hands moved unto her backside, and she gasped as he tugged her tight against him. “I shall watch over you, Fawnella MacHearin, in any matter you wish, I vow it.” Forever.
Her fingers greedily feathered through his hair.
“Handfasted in secret, my love, and then…” Her words halted as his lips stole hers.
Aye, then, the bedchamber. They would finally explore more than just stolen kisses or looks or touches.
She would be his and he would be hers – for all time in flesh and passion.
His fingers dug harder into the curve of her backside.
Divine. Every last speck in willpower to wait was almost to a close.
A groan met his mouth as she softened against him, the taste from honey mead still fresh on her tongue. If only he could bottle up the feeling he captured in this moment, keep it safely tucked away, slay any who dare take it, then swallow a long hard drink in dire times. She was so very exquisite…
“Sir Callum!” A stern voice tore the dream away.
Callum’s eyes popped open, discovering Sir Sean looming in his chamber’s doorway.
An odd sort of glow behind him from the angle by the torch on the passage made Sir Sean appear like he stood on hell’s threshold.
It wasn’t hell, naw; he was back in the current time of 1266.
Without his Nella. Well… ’twas a special sort of hell in that respect.
“Our lord King Alexander summons you directly unto the solar’s keep!”
He rubbed his eyes, and the memory faded away from his mind. He nodded. Was he unable to speak given the fog from rousing out of a deep slumber or the anguish the memory had been ripped away? The latter. Every. Time.
Sir Sean’s stride echoed the passage as Callum swung his bare feet over the pallet’s side, hitting the floor which felt same as an icy hilltop.
Standing, he fetched the chain mail tunic off the chair back by the darkened hearth with a letter C woven custom into the pattern upon his shoulder.
A gift from the king years ago for saving his life.
At that time it had reflected his name. Now?
To those in the royal guard it also came to mean he was the captain.
Why would he dream of his Nella now? When was the last time he had the dream? He tossed the heavy metal weave which was as cold as the floor over his skull as the answer rang through his thoughts. Half a fortnight and three days and ten hours, but who was keeping track… Oh, wait, eleven hours.
Moments later he stepped out to cross the bailey headed for the castle’s keep in Stirling.
The sound from a whip cracking echoed. Who the hell was using a whip?
His gaze swung toward the stables. The butcher had struck a tired gelding whose forelock was graying.
No. Not on my watch! Callum’s stride changed direction.
“’Tis only an old nag, the king awaits,” Sir Sean, who trailed him, scolded.
“Then this shall have to be set right with utmost haste,” Callum snarled, his steps picking up pace toward the burgh’s butcher, who raised the whip again at thorny-hipped gelding who refused to move and was hitched on an overloaded wagon.
“Butcher!” Callum yelled. The rotund man’s hand halted mid-air before turning with a glare.
“Aye! You shall be under my blade if you raise that whip once more at the beast.” The whip fell onto the cobblestones.
“Lighten the load upon the wagon, make two trips if needed once the beast has rested, understood?”
The eyes sunken in the butcher’s skull narrowed. He means to test the highest-ranking knight in the royal guard. Callum’s hand dropped onto his sword’s hilt. What move now, Butcher?
“Aye, Sir Callum,” Butcher gushed. “It shall not happen once more.”
Giving a somber nod, Callum spun on his heel, finding the round face of his friend Sir Brayden who was standing under the archway leading into the keep brushing the blaze of his red hair from his eyes when a gust caught.
“It can be done! I believe you set him into order without one thrashing. Flawlessly played and good morrow, my friend.”
“Good morrow.” Callum fell into stride beside the broad knight. “I was to reflect in prayer with our lord king this mornin’. Yet, Sir Sean” – he waved his hand at the copper-haired knight who vanished around the corner – “summoned me to the solar in its stead. Is King Alexander well?”
“Aye, more than you appear.” Sir Brayden’s hint of usual mirth vanished as they stepped down the passageway, which smelled from freshly herbed rushes. “What has cast such a grim look upon you as if someone stepped on your toe and laughed?”
Nella. Not a toe but heart. He never had spoken to another about her; even his two younger brothers didn’t know about the lass he’d loved as a young lad.
No, a young fool. That was him, standing in the bitter dreich night all those years ago when Nella never came to meet him by their bridge. Blind lovesick fool.
“It does not matter.” He inwardly punched the broken emotions downward into his gut. They rounded into the great hall. There stood same frame, same hair, same eyes, but a broad grin of a lad’s heart who was whole; his brother… “Alec!”
Alec charged forward to clasp Callum on the shoulder. “Brother, good morrow!”
“Good morrow, wee brother.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “You are a day early. All is well with the clan?”
“Aye, Lady Keirah is doing wonderfully with the wee one just born and has our brother well in hand.” Excellent. “I believe the tasks required by Chief Aonghus have grown tenfold as the clan is preparing to construct a fresh granary.”
“Good, then onto our usual formal greeting.” A grin met Callum’s lips as he ruffled the sibling’s hair.
“Ack!” Alec stepped back, smoothing the ruffled strands. “Shite, brother, you are aware I am over score in years old?”
“You shall always be my wee brother.”
Alec arched a brow. “Also, a sire to a strapping wee laddie of three and soon-to-be sire to another bairn.”
Callum hugged him. “Ahh, wee brother! Deidre is with child?”
“Aye, she just told me upon my leave. Aonghus has promised to protect all of them in my brief absence. Sir Brayden.” Alec grinned, slapping the broad knight on the shoulder.
“Always a pleasure to see the youngest MacCade brother.” Brayden smiled. “Cursing and colorful as always. Court has been so very dull without you here.”
Alec inquired toward Callum. “Where are you both chargin’ in a rush upon such an early hour?”
The mirth was stolen from Callum. “I was about to inquire to Sir Brayden regarding this before we arrived in the great hall.” Callum turned at the fellow knight. “Our lord king has begun his dawn with affairs beholden to the kingdom rather than his usual prayer. Something must be terribly wrong.”
The three strode for the passageway, once they had stepped by two pages and a squire. “A missive has arrived,” Sir Brayden whispered as he opened the door into the solar.
A cluster belonging to the king’s council and high lords filled the chamber with an air tense as the bow string which was swung forever upon Callum’s shoulder opposite the sword scabbard.
Lord MacParson wore his usual shadow of a smirk while Lord MacBenrick nodded in greeting.
The robust-built Lord MacBenrick wore a grim look where a smile normally was held – it must be most dire.
“Sir Callum, Chieftain MacCade if you would care to remain as well,” King Alexander began once formalities in greeting the monarch were seen to. “The Northern delegation is almost upon our soil for the signing of the treaty in mere days.”
“Aye.” Lord MacParson took the hint in providing insight at the king’s stare.
“Chancellor Askatinus, and Andreas the son of Nicholas, Baron, we have been told are to be present upon King Magnus’s behalf.
One of the royal guards flanking them shall be Sir James.
” That traitor dares to show his face here!
Lord MacBenrick said to Callum in a dry tone, “We all detest Sir James returning unto his home soil after the traitorous acts toward our lord king’s crown.
My apologies for the grievance you suffered after Sir James sought harming your brother, Sir Aonghus and his lovely wife Lady Keirah.
And to you, Sir Brayden.” He hissed a sigh born by frustration.
“Alas we are bound by honor to Norway’s crown in the form of our word to leave the leech be. ”
Sir Brayden nodded his head, grin gone.
Grievance? Honor? Really? The arsehole, Sir James, had left both his brother, sister-in-law, and Sir Brayden to die!
Callum tightened his jaw but bowed his head in acknowledgment.
Three years; he had waited three years for this moment.
Would he find a way to set the balance right on the scale when the time presented? Without a doubt.
The king took helm, speaking toward Callum.
“This treaty in Perth shall be a bestowment after the blood shed at Largs, but there seems to be a grave element unfolding in the kingdom.” Callum straightened his spine.
“Word has arrived from the lands belonging to Lord Bentley; crofts have been burned far north of Loch Lomond with rumors by those present the raids were cast by Northmen’s hands themselves.
Thistle Glen Abbey’s abbot is to be present for the treaty’s signing by my request. I fear for his safety and the treaty itself in this mayhem.
You are to leave my side and this keep at once.
Sir Sean shall remain in your stead with Chieftain MacCade since the fates have graced us with his earlier arrival.
” The king took a step closer. Determination rode his face like a sea captain commanding his crew away from a deadly tempest on the horizon.
“After speaking with my council and the high lords, there are two tasks I bequeath you. Take Sir Brayden and two more knights you trust, then travel to Thistle Glen Abbey. Seek the abbot who previously journeyed on my behalf with Chancellor Askatinus to Norway’s kingdom.
This abbot ensured those negotiations for the treaty were a success.
The abbot is to be brought safely to the signing of the treaty at Perth.
Next, choose a second gathering of royal guards to discover who is at fault for these raids upon the Highlands.
” The sovereign looked at Callum a hard moment.
“I do not place this task with a light consideration. You are my greatest hope, Sir Callum, the same as the day you saved my life all those years ago when another sought to dash the kingdom into chaos.” The king paused, looking at Callum’s surcoat bearing the royal mark.
“As then, it shall be once more. I seek this to be seen to with the utmost discretion. Nae surcoats are to be worn by those who seek the traitors. I cannot have word spreading in the task you are ordered to complete in finding these true traitors. When your brother Sir Aonghus took his leave to his clan, an empty trench, deep as an ocean, was left behind regarding someone I could trust on the most delicate tasks. Your time here in this castle and keep these years past have set a stronger standard than I ever thought possible to fill this void. My late sire gave his life before he was able to secure this treaty. The need weighs heavily upon my soul that this shall be done on the second day of July year of our lord 1266.”
Callum vowed, “We shall not fail you, my lord king, nor the honored memory of the late king, your sire.”
The king revealed a signet ring in his grasp. “Keep this with you. If a need arises to reveal your task, do so with great care in only the gravest of circumstances,” the king demanded. “Once again, Sir Callum, discretion is paramount.”
Callum took the ring while nodding solemnly. The full moon was in three days’ time; would he make it to Thistle Glen Abbey by then? Absolutely!