Chapter 25
I can play at Tafl,
Nine skills I know,
Rarely forget I the runes,
I know of books and smithing,
I know how to slide on skis,
Shoot and row, well enough;
Each of two arts I know:
Harp-playing and speaking poetry.
—from an Old Norse manuscript
Rognvald Kali Kolsson (1100?–1158)
Norwegian skald poet and Earl of Orkney, Scotland
Alysandir and his men did not return until late the next afternoon. Isobella and Bradan were returning from another visit to the stables when Alysandir and his clansmen rode through the gates at a canter and into the keep. She and Bradan paused a moment to watch them dismount and kick the mud off their boots as they tossed their reins to waiting groomsmen.
But what caught her attention was the carcass of a large stag slung over the back of one of the horses. She rested her gaze upon the drooping head and imagined him racing for his life across the moors with a hunting party and deerhounds in pursuit, and she wondered if the Scots field-dressed it in much the same manner that her father and brothers did. She decided that probably that had not changed much over the centuries.
Alysandir had not told her they planned a hunt, so she supposed they happened upon the stag and took advantage of their good fortune. Children were gathering around the carcass, so she asked Bradan if he wanted to join them. He shook his head. She smiled, not certain if Bradan was interested more in the children or the stag, but then decided it was the latter. He seemed fascinated with the dead stag, the sightless eyes still open, the tongue lolling down like a red pennant from a castle tower. It was exactly as her brothers had done, and she decided boys also had not changed much over the centuries.
She was standing with her arm around Bradan’s shoulder when she noticed Alysandir gazing at her. He acknowledged her with a slight dip of his head; the second time he had done such. She smiled, a flood of memories of their lovemaking warming her until her toes curled under with delight.
Bradan had the opposite reaction to the sight of Alysandir, however, for the moment Bradan saw him, he broke away from her and lit out like a legion of devils were after him. She knew it would do no good to call him back, so she watched him disappear faster than a rabbit darting into a hole.
***
It was almost suppertime, and Isobella assumed Bradan was already safely ensconced in his tower hideaway and would not be leaving it until the following morning. She was walking down the hallway thinking about what she was going to wear to dinner when she was caught off guard by someone grabbing her arm from behind.
With a gasp, she turned around and saw Alysandir gazing at her warmly. She smiled, not bothering to hide the delight that shone in her eyes.
“How was your meeting with the Macquarrie?”
“’Twas an attempt at peacemaking between the Macquarries and the MacDonalds over a romance between Macquarrie’s daughter and the son of Robert MacDonald. It seems lovers’ spats are a favorite pastime on Mull.”
She tried to hide her disappointment over learning the trip had nothing to do with Elisabeth. “I was surprised to see the stag in the courtyard. Did you encounter it by chance?”
“Aye, but he was a smart one and tried to swim across the inlet. We gave chase, for we couldna let such a prime stag get away.”
“I am glad you were successful.”
He pulled her against him. “Not as successful by half as my tracking ye doon.”
She heard someone coming up the stairs and tried to step away from him, but he held her tightly.
“You don’t need to hold me in place. I am not going to bolt.”
“Is that the only greeting I am to receive from ye?” He loosened his hold, but he did not release her. “Is there no warm and welcoming kiss awaiting me?”
Laughter danced in her eyes. “I thought about grabbing you by the hair and dragging you off to my lair, but I was afraid the clan would frown upon that. It has been only two days since I saw you last. What did you want me to do, rush out to greet you with a kiss in the courtyard in front of everyone?”
His look sent a ripple of desire through her. “Aye, ’twould not bother me, for everyone will know soon enough that ye are my… that ye are mine.” He released her arm. “Ye will sit with me in the hall tonight.”
His words had a sobering effect, and she wondered what he had been going to say at the end of that phrase: “…know soon enough that ye are my—” My what? She had a feeling he almost said “mistress,” or whatever the going term was here on Mull for a woman who was a little above a prostitute and well below a wife.
“I prefer to dine with your sisters,” she said, raising her chin, icicles dripping from each syllable.
He cocked his head and studied her face a moment. “Ye will sit beside me.”
“That makes it difficult. I am trying to blend in here and become friends with some of your clanswomen. They are, for the most part, aloof and distant towards me. They obviously know you have come to my room and why, for you have not taken great care to hide the fact.”
“Who has treated ye this in this manner? Give me their names.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t involve yourself in women’s folly. It would only serve to make things worse. Please… let me handle the matter in my own way. Once they realize that I am not a threat to any of them and that I do not have romantic notions about you, they will come around.”
She saw a flash of anger in his eyes, his face turning hard and dark. “I have my ways of finding oot. If anyone is beastly toward ye, they will answer to me. I expect ye in the hall and seated next to me, and if ye dinna come, I will have ye carried doon by the guards.”
She almost laughed at his protectiveness, yet his autocratic attitude that riled her. She did not want to have it out with him now, so she tried to soften things with a spirit of willing cooperation.
“I don’t plan on entering the Great Hall like Cleopatra sailing down the Nile, if that is what you had in mind, but I will come on my own two feet. I am not a cantankerous woman, Alysandir. I do not like disagreements. I am a peacemaker, and believe it or not, I do not thrive on discord. I am meek as a shadow and mild as a moonbeam.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “After the meal, ye shall come to my study. I wish to see how well ye play Hnefatafl.”
“We call it Tafl in my time.”
“I expect to see ye at supper.”
She smiled, thinking how much she genuinely liked him, even when he played the dictator. He had been her friend before he was her lover. He started to turn away, but she detained him with a hand placed on his sleeve. “Please, I have a favor to ask.”
“And what is this favor?”
“I would like to name the new foal sired by the English war-horse.”
His brows went up in surprise. “And what name would ye give him?”
“Cahir Mor.”
“’Tis a fitting name ye have chosen, lass.”
“I take that to mean you agree to name it Cahir Mor?”
“Aye, the name suits me.”
“Thank you,” she said, and came up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“Ye stir my bluid.” Before she could turn away, he took her hand in his and placed a kiss upon her wrist. He drew her into a small, dark alcove behind the stairwell and surrounded her with his warmth, enveloping her in a cocoon where nothing else existed but the closeness of his body, the comfort of his arms, and the security of knowing that he would protect her. His mouth found hers and she surrendered to his kiss, her hands soft against his neck.
She never wanted to leave. And yet she had no control over her life. She could find herself back in Texas a minute from now or tomorrow or next month or next year. Her happy thoughts of a future with Alysandir vanished. Caution took its place. She pulled away from him, breathing unsteadily while her pulse pounded in her ears. She brought her hands up between them and pushed him away as she took a step back.
“We need to go, or we will be late.”
She had to end it now before they both were carried away. She turned and started down the hall at a fast pace, her skirts rustling about her. She was almost to the door of her bedchamber when he laughed and said, “Ye told me many things aboot ye, that ye are not cantankerous, do not thrive on discord or disagreements, that ye are a peacemaker that is mild and meek. What ye did not tell me is that ye are faint of heart.”
“I run away to live and fight another day. In essence, I am merely regrouping.”
The sound of Alysandir Mackinnon’s laughter rocked down the hallway and whispered along the spiraling stairwell. It floated past the Great Hall and through the massive studded door of the donjon, where it was caught by a breeze, as it drifted through the barbican and over the heads of the two guards standing there. It was swept into the current of a whirlwind and rode on the back of sand eddies along the beach and swirled around a tousle-headed lad building a turret out of wet beach sand.
***
Alysandir did not understand Isobella’s tendency to blow both hot and cold, but he did not have time to linger on the subject for long. As he went down the stairs, he heard the sound of horses coming through the gate and a commotion in the bailey, so he went to investigate. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky darkened and a heavy, black cloud settled over Màrrach, but the air did not hold the smell of rain. An uneasy wind stirred as he stepped through the door and saw his uncle Lachlan’s men from the monastery in Iona. Then he saw his sister Barbara.
Gordon McMurry rode closer and dismounted to greet Alysandir with a hearty hug and a slap on the back. “We have escorted Barbara home for ye,” he said, obviously making a valiant effort to hold back laughter.
Alysandir frowned. “’Tis a favor ye are doing me, then?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did she ask ye to bring her here, or did ye grow weary of her steel will and bossy manner?”
“Aye, ’twas both and then some,” Gordon said and laughed. “’Twould seem yer uncle, Lachlan, grew weary of her daily bombardment of requests to return to Màrrach, so he decided to save ye the trouble of fetching her yerself. ’Twas he who asked me to escort her back to Màrrach and to place her under the care of her brother, the chief o’ Clan Mackinnon.”
“Are ye saying she was a wee bit o’ trouble to my uncle?”
“Nae, not a wee bit o’ trouble, but more a monstrous amount o’ it, she was. ’Tis a woman of strong opinion and demanding ways ye have on yer hands, Alysandir. Faith, such a woman would expect ye to peel her grapes afore she would eat them.”
“I don’t suppose ye would be interested in taking her off my hands now, would ye, if I threw in the peeled grapes?”
Gordon did not laugh when he replied, “Nay, not for all the grapes in Italy. She is a comely lass, that is true, but I would sooner take vows of celibacy than to live with a cantankerous woman.”
“She only needs a man with a gentle touch.”
“Och! The deil is in her tongue, Alysandir. She would devour a gentle man. ’Tis an ogre that she needs.”
Barbara, who had just dismounted, walked by and gave Gordon a swift kick in passing. “Keep yer opinion and yer hostile words to yerself. The nunnery would be preferable to being shackled for a lifetime with a brute like ye.”
Gordon grinned as he watched her walk away.
“’Tis a pity ye are no up to the task of taming the lass,” Alysandir said. “I thought ye had an eye for her.”
“Aye, the sight o’ her warms my bluid, but I canna let her know that I fancy mysel’ to be exactly the kind o’ man she needs to tame her. ’Twill take a great effort, ye ken, but once I have won her heart, I shall go after the rest o’ her.”
Alysandir laughed heartily and clapped Gordon on the back. “Come inside, and we will have a dram or two before we sup.”
***
Isobella stood at her window trying to see what was going on in the courtyard. She saw a lone woman and a group of men dismounting… none of whom she recognized.
She turned away when she heard a knock at her door. “’Tis Sybilla and Marion, and we have brought our sister Barbara to meet ye.”
Isobella hurried to open the door and found herself surprised, for no one had mentioned Barbara was such a beauty. No wonder Fergus Maclean was determined to have her. With her wealth of luxuriant red hair and fiery green eyes, she would be a standout in any crowd. Isobella was willing to bet Barbara had a fiery temper and a strong will to go along with it, for she had seen the way Barbara had kicked one of her escorts.
Isobella knew immediately that there would be no middle ground between the two of them. They would be either very dear friends or archenemies. Isobella was praying it would be the former.
Barbara looked her over and then said, “I hear ye have a sister who was taken by the Macleans. My sisters seem to think it is Alysandir’s place to tell me aboot it, but I prefer to hear it from ye.”
Isobella laughed outright, both delighted and relieved it was not hatred at first sight. “Shall we take a walk? We have some time before dinner. I will give you the short version as we go.”
They went downstairs, walking past the Great Hall and Alysandir’s library and into the garden. Barbara and Isobella were walking arm in arm, auburn head next to red one, as they talked, Sybilla and Marion following close behind.
Gordon and Alysandir were standing at the window. Gordon said, “I thought ye said Barbara had not met yer visitor.”
Alysandir had his gaze fixed upon Isobella. “Apparently, she has now. I have never known Barbara to make such fast acquaintance with anyone, especially another woman, and to see her arm in arm—’tis hard to believe what my eyes see.”
Gordon laughed. “’Tis a much gentler version of yer sister I see now than during her stay on Iona. I think she began to complain aboot it right after ye left.”
Alysandir barely heard. He was watching Isobella intently. What mischief do they plan?
Isobella saw Alysandir, but she was too occupied with the fact that Barbara liked her. It validated her as a member of the family, for several women smiled at her as they passed by. It was a happy moment, for she caught a glimpse of her future here. But, she reminded herself her future was not hers to plan. At least for now.
Marion and Sybilla left to change their clothes. Isobella and Barbara remained seated on the stone bench, while Isobella told her how Alysandir had rescued her and her twin, and Elisabeth’s fate in the hands of Angus Maclean.
When Barbara asked about her odd speech, Isobella told her that their family had been shipwrecked on an island for several years, during which time her parents taught them and gradually their accent had changed.
“We were rescued eventually.”
“And ye and yer sister were separated again,” Barbara said. “By another ship?”
Isobella nodded, careful to stick to the story as Alysandir had outlined it. “Yes.”
“If I were ye, I wouldna put one dainty slipper on board another ship,” Barbara said, and the two of them laughed, but Isobella’s was more of relief than good humor.
Later, they ended up in Barbara’s room so she could change for dinner. Isobella thought she was on safe ground with Barbara, safe enough to be able to discuss Alysandir, and even if she wasn’t, she had to ask. “I know we’ve just met, and you have a right to refuse me, but I must ask. Will you tell me about Alysandir’s marriage and Bradan?”
Barbara’s brows went up, and she smiled. “Ye have met the lad, then?”
Isobella nodded. “Yes, and I adore him. So much that I intend to see to his education. He is a bright boy, and it is a shame he has been an outcast. I want to know why Alysandir refuses to have anything to do with him, for whatever it is, it is not Bradan’s fault. And there is no way anyone could ever convince me that Bradan isn’t Alysandir’s son. He favors him too much.”
Barbara nodded. “Aye, he does, and Alysandir knows Bradan is his son, but whenever he sees him, he is reminded of the disastrous marriage that produced him.”
“I know he was married, but I do not know anything about the circumstances,” Isobella said, leaning forward with her hands folded in her lap, her gaze attentive upon Barbara’s face.
“Her name was Janet. It was an arranged marriage between the fathers. They were young and Alysandir loved her, but she never wanted to be married and she begged her father to let her join a convent. From an early age, she had her heart set upon becoming a nun. The idea of mating with a man was abhorrent to her.
“After almost a year of marriage, she left to visit her family and never returned. Alysandir learned later that she had fled to France. When she discovered she was expecting a child, she waited until after it was born and then sent the wee bairn to Alysandir. She sought an annulment and the protection of the church.”
Isobella was shocked. “And she got it?”
Barbara nodded. “Aye, it was granted. The church decided a nun was a higher priority than was a wife. The marriage was annulled. Her rejection hit Alysandir particularly hard.”
“Understandably,” Isobella said. “It must have been a terrible shock to him, but the child was his and totally innocent of wrongdoings.”
“Och! What ye say is true, and we all know it, but unfortunately Alysandir did not see it that way. He was away at the time trying to find Janet, and when he returned, he was furious to find another man’s bastard being foisted off as his. Even when it was pointed out that the age of the child coincided with the time that Janet was in residence at Màrrach, Alysandir refused to accept it as the truth and consequently, refused to acknowledge Bradan.”
Isobella was puzzled. Alysandir had shown himself to be compassionate and caring to her, a stranger. How could he be so cruel to his own flesh and blood? “But why?”
Their eyes met and Barbara shook her head. “’Twas twofold. He had no proof that Bradan was his lad, but more important was the annulled marriage. If Bradan was his, then he was conceived when his parents were married, yet the annulment invalidated the marriage.
“We dinna know if Janet told the church about the child. So no one knows if Bradan would be considered a bastard or a legitimate heir. If Alysandir should be forced by the king’s regent to marry again, and if he should have a son, recognizing Bradan could jeopardize the position of a legitimate son.”
“But this could all be worked out, surely. Your uncle is the abbot.”
“Aye, and Alysandir would cut with him if our uncle went around him and tried to settle this. Any recognition of Bradan will have to come from Alysandir’s heart.”
Isobella sat back and thought there had to be a way to soften his hard heart. Although the sort of treatment Bradan received was never justifiable, she was ashamed to think she had been guilty of misjudging Alysandir. She understood him better now.
She realized why he was at war with himself and how he could be a man who yearned for the softness and companionship of a woman, yet feared one bad marriage would only lead to another. It was sad to think how one woman could so damage both father and son. With a sigh, Isobella stared down at the hands folded in her lap before she said softly, “I had no idea he suffered so much pain from such a short marriage.”
“And suffers still. I hope I have no’ said too much,” Barbara said. “Ye have fallen quiet and pensive.”
“No… no, you haven’t said too much. As for pensive, I was thinking of a saying… Two men look out through the same bars: One sees mud and one the stars. I am ashamed to admit that when it came to understanding Alysandir, I saw mud.”
Barbara smiled. “’Tis what anyone would have thought if they did not know the entire story. Mayhap ye understand my brother a little better.”
Isobella was about to say it helped a great deal, but the door opened and Sybilla poked her head inside. “We should go down to the hall now or risk Alysandir’s displeasure.”
Isobella soon found herself being escorted to the empty place next to Alysandir, with his sisters to her left. The men were discussing their recent hunt and how the deerhounds, Duff and Malcolm, had brought down the ten-antlered stag.
Drust said, “Duff’s quick eye caught sight of him immediately. He stood still as a stone, with his ears erect and one foot lifted off the ground.”
“And then he looked straight at Alysandir,” Gavin said, “like he was asking whether it was time to give chase. Puir Malcolm, being young and not so well trained, sprang forward pulling Alysandir doon. Had it no’ been for the rope wound around Alysandir’s hand, Malcolm would have taken off after the stag.”
Colin cut in, “Alysandir came close to changing his name from Malcolm to ‘Muckle Fule’ as he kept calling him.”
“By that time, the stag was on his way to Iona,” Drust added.
Everyone laughed. Isobella glanced toward Alysandir and almost overturned her goblet at the smoldering desire in his gaze.
Conversation died down by the time everyone finished. Isobella smoothed the dark green fabric of her skirt and toyed with the goblet of ale she did not touch, hoping all the while that Alysandir had forgotten her promise to play Tafl. She didn’t trust herself alone in the room with him.
The thought had no more than formed in her mind, when he stood and offered her his hand, saying, “And now, Mistress Douglas, ye shall accompany me to the library where ye will demonstrate yer skill at Tafl.”
“Ye play Tafl?” Barbara asked, obviously astonished. “’Tis no’ a game women play.”
Isobella nodded, thinking that she wasn’t going to explain how she became intrigued with medieval games in college and joined an extracurricular group to learn how to play many of them. “My father taught me to play.”
She put her hand to her head and was about to plead a headache when she glanced at Barbara, who gave her a look that said, I wouldn’t if I were you…
Well, a bargain was a bargain. She might as well get it over with, so Isobella placed her hand in Alysandir’s extended palm and accompanied him from the hall, relieved to see that Colin, Grim, and Gavin fell in line behind them, with Barbara tagging along.
Hnefatafl was an old Viking game dating to 400 AD. It was played in Scandinavia, Greenland, Britain, and as far eastward as the Ukraine. Its popularity began to wane with the introduction of chess in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, but there were still many, like Alysandir, who enjoyed playing it.
The beautifully carved wooden board was more than a foot square and bore some resemblance to a modern-day chessboard, with a central square in the middle. Alysandir’s pieces looked to be carved from ivory and onyx, with a larger king and smaller pawns and rooks that numbered twelve light pieces and a king facing twenty-four dark pieces.
The white king was placed in the central square, or throne, surrounded by his white men, which Alysandir gave to Isobella. He, appropriately she thought, took the black pieces, which would try to keep her king from reaching a corner square. She won two of the four games they played.
“Hout! She plays like a man,” Colin said. “I doubt any of us could beat her. You were verra fortunate, brother.”
“Aye,” Alysandir grumbled, and everyone laughed.
“I consider myself very fortunate to win two games,” Isobella said.
“Ye play verra, verra well,” Colin said.
“She amazes me on a daily basis,” Grim said.
At that point, everyone looked at Alysandir, who had remained quiet throughout the discussion. He gave her a frank stare and asked, “Is there anything ye canna do?”
“Be quiet,” Isobella said so candidly that everyone fell into fits of laughter, Alysandir included.