RockyMountainMommy 
Posts: 19
(2/22/04 1:51 am)
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PROLOGUE
The Northern Highlands
In the Year of Our Lord, 1561
A dismal silence draped Wyverness Castle. No one present would dare speak to the Laird without leave. His mood was as black as his hair. Laird Lachlan Stuart glanced up from his pitcher of foaming mead and scowled blackly at the stairs. He winced as a blood-curdling scream split the air. He lifted the vessel with a beefy hand and downed the brew in a single swallow, then tossed the pitcher into a corner where it clattered against the stone wall and shattered into a million pieces.
“Get me more ale!”
A dozen heads turned to look at him in surprise.
“What are ye looking at ye mewling beetle-headed louts! I said get me some ale!”
A small serving maid picks herself up from the rushes covering the stone floor and scurries off to the kitchen.
Lachlan turned to the man sitting next to him and attempted to smile, but all he could manage was a sickly grin and a loud belch.
“Lazy good-for-nothings.”
The man raised a mocking eyebrow and turned away in disgust. Lachlan cleared his throat.
“This deal we’ve made, I’m thinking that maybe we can discuss it.”
“What is there to discuss?” asked the man, “ ’Twas a bargain made in good faith. If your wife bears a daughter, she will be betrothed to my son immediately, and our clans will put an end to the war that has been waging between us for two generations.”
Lachlan glanced at the wide-eyed boy sitting next to his father and was struck by the intensity of his bright blue eyes. He was a proud lad, and big for his age.
“It seems to me, MacLeod, that ye are getting the better end of the bargain,” Laird Stuart snorted.
Laird MacLeod turned ice-blue eyes to the drunken Laird.
“It seems to me, Laird Stuart, that you have little choice, if you really want peace between us. It matters little to me. There are many other clans I can ally myself with. Mackays. Sutherlands. Even MacKenzies. Clans bigger and stronger than yours. Bigger and stronger, even, than my own. I can betroth William to any one of them. Don't think for a moment that I can't,” he warned.
Lachlan hitched a finger at the child. “How can ye say yer boy will even want my daughter, if in fact, we have a lass?”
“A ten year old boy has little choice in his betrothal.”
“Aye, but the lad will not be ten years old forever, now, will he?”
Laird MacLeod’s eyes darkened to a stormy sapphire.
“You worry about your end of the bargain, Lachlan Stuart, and I’ll attend to mine.”
Lachlan belched again and turned his face away. Oh, Elyne. Can ye ever forgive me? Ye’ll have no choice. By God, ‘tis for the good of the clan!
* * *
Lady Elyne laid back on her pillow, and tried to rest before the next contraction struck. What in the name of God am I doing?
Her servant drew a damp cloth over her burning cheeks.
“‘Twill not be long now, milady. Just rest, and then push with all yer worth when the next pain comes.”
“I can't bear it, Miderd. What if ‘tis a girl? Oh, Lord in Heaven, let it be a boy.”
“Whatever it be, whether lad or lassie, I pray to God the bairn be hale.”
“Oh, I pray the babe is healthy, too. But I couldn't bear it if. . . He’s a monster, Miderd! I’ve heard the most awful stories. He killed his first wife, and she with child!”
“Och! Well, Laird MacLeod is not going to get his filthy hands on this wee bairn. We’ll see to that. Don't worry now. We’ll not let that scoundrel touch yer bairn. Och! Here comes another one! Push, milady!”
Elyne clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming. She collapsed back on the bed and turned her face so Miderd could mop her burning cheeks.
“Lachlan must never know. He would kill me.”
Her throat hurt, and speaking was painful.
“Tch. There, there. I would give my life for ye and this bairn. Laird Stuart will never know. Don't speak now. Save yer strength.”
Elyne watched as Miderd busied herself at the foot of the bed, arranging towels.
“Will you watch over her, Miderd? Promise me.”
“Ye have my word.”
Another contraction shot through her body and she bit into her bottom lip. Warm blood trickled down her chin.
“The head is crownin’. Push now. Push with all yer might. That’s it. Och, ye’ll do fine. Push now. Push agian. There ye go!”
Miderd drew the newborn from Elyne’s body, drew the mucous from its mouth and smacked it gently on the back. The child drew in a deep breath of air and howled. Elyne struggled to her elbows and tried to look at the babe, but Miderd drew it away, rubbing it with a soft cloth and cooing to it. Elyne sank back onto the bed and closed her eyes. It was not over yet. Father above, let it be a boy.
“Milady.”
Elyne turned to her servant and couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face.
“You don't have to tell me. ‘Tis a girl, isn't it.”
“Aye,” Miderd whispered, and looked at her mistress with pity.
Elyne turned away, refusing to look at the baby she would have to give up. She brushed the tears from her face.
“Is everything arranged, Miderd?”
“Aye, milady. There be a lad at the stables waiting for word. I’ll give him the package ye made up, and the bairn, too.”
“Does he have. . .” she stopped, choking on the words.
“Aye. I’ll be bringing the poor wee thing up.”
Elyne nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. It was for the best. She couldn’t believe the deception they were about to attempt. She could only hope that Lachlan wouldn’t find out.
“Do you think it’ll work, Miderd?”
“We can only pray. It be in God’s hands, now.”
She whispered, “Her name is Kathlyn.”
“‘Tis a bonny name. For a bonny lass. Rest, now.”
Miderd turned away.
“Let me hold her, Miderd. Just for a few minutes.”
Miderd looked at her mistress with an uncertain frown.
“Are ye sure?”
Elyne nodded, reached up and took the babe from her hands. She looked at the wee face and the tiny hands, and felt her heart ripping out of her body. Drawing the infant down, she held her cheek against her tiny head and breathed deeply.
“I love you, Kathlyn. Forgive me. Go with God.”
She laid her lips on the child’s dark hair. When Miderd reached down to draw the babe away, Elyne began to weep.
* * *
Lachlan lifted his pounding head from the table and watched the small servant as she stumbled into the hall. She held a bundle in her hands, and her eyes were red. She looked fearful, and Lachlan went cold.
“Well, lass?”
“Yer wife be resting, Laird Stuart.”
Lachlan surged to his feet and leaned over the table, “And the babe?”
The girl hung her head, and Lachlan could see that she was struggling to speak.
“Speak up, girl!”
“The poor wee thing didn't make it.”
He sank back into his seat and covered his eyes with his hands.
“Was it a lass?”
“Aye.”
“Hell’s fire! What in the name of God happened?”
Miderd shrunk before him and stuttered, “The bairn be still-born. There be nothing I could do.”
Lachlan glanced over at Laird MacLeod and his son. The man seemed disinterested, and was smoothing the folds on his green and blue kilt. He turned back to the servant.
“Is that the babe?”
Miderd nodded.
“Let me look.”
The servant advanced and held out the bundle, folding back the cloth to expose the child’s pale face. Lachlan reached out to touch the wee head. It was cold as ice. He snatched back his hand.
“Get it from my sight.”
Miderd nodded and scurried from the hall.
“Well, MacLeod. So much for our bargain.”
His guest grunted and heaved himself out of his seat.
“Then there is nothing more to discuss.”
Young William stood with his father, his eyes never leaving Lachlan’s face. Lachlan squirmed under his scrutiny. The lad was just like his Laird. It was impossible to know what he was thinking.
Lachlan watched as his enemy snapped his fingers and left the hall, followed by three warriors. William turned and gave Lachlan a final quizzical look, then pursued his father.
Lachlan sighed and looked down at the table.
* * *
The croft was cold and the man bent to add a small log to the pitiful fire. He looked over at his wife and frowned. She lay on the bed, her face turned to the wall. They had given the baby to the lad hours ago, and they still had not heard anything.
Sithig jumped as a soft knock came at the door, and looked over at his wife. She watched him with wide eyes.
He cleared his throat and opened the door, squinting out into the black night.
“Come in lad,” he looked at his wife, ”Ada, he’s here.”
Ada rose from the bed and inched toward the door, her face tense and hopeful all at once. He understood how she felt. She had lost three bairns, this last one had been the hardest for her. But now it looked as if they were finally going to have a wee one to raise and love.
The boy came into the croft and gently handed the bundle to Ada. She drew the soft plaid from the girl’s face and stared in wonder.
“Sithig! She’s so bonny! Just look at the hair! Why, she’ll be a flaming-haired beauty, mark my words!”
He smiled at his wife and turned back to the boy. The lad slipped a heavy bag from his shoulder and passed it to the man.
“I’ll be here in the morning with wood for yer fire, and a store of food for ye and the missus.”
He turned away and melted into the night. Sithig stared after him for a moment, then closed the door.
He opened the bag and stared in wonder.
“Ada! ‘Tis filled with gold coin! There’s some clothes for the bairn, too! And look, here’s a note!”
He pulled the paper from the bag and quickly scanned it.
“Her name is Kathlyn. There’ll be more coin each month. Miderd will come with it herself, and see to the girl’s care. She’s to be educated, as well. The lady insists she learn to read and write.”
His voice grew strained, “But we must give the bairn back to the lady if the Laird ever dies. If not, she’s to stay with us ‘till she grows up.”
Ada laughed and the musical sound filled the meager croft.
“Och, Sithig! ‘Tis wonderful! Do you understand? The Laird is too stubborn to die! Och, she’s so beautiful! My Kathlyn!”
Sithig grinned as he watched his wife twirl and dance throughout the room, and finally come to a breathless stop, tenderly kissing the sweet face of their new babe.
She’ll be loved, Lady Elyne. Never fear that.
Edited by: RockyMountainMommy at: 2/22/04 11:26 am
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