Chapter 22

Nhaimeth had been apprehensive that Rob might laugh when he told him of his betrothal to Rowena. He couldn’t have been more wrong. “This is grand, Nhaimeth! Who would have thought—both ye and me married. When is it to be?”

“Rowena says we need to wait until the bluebells bloom. For myself, I’ve always thought it bonnie to see a mass of blue covering the forest floor, so who can blame her. Ye ken what it is, Rob; she has her own ways and I’m not one to interfere with them. I’m more than happy with that.” He didnae mention that waiting on the heather to come into flower would have meant waiting a month or two longer, so he had nae right to complain.

Rob appeared to be reading his mind when he said, “The bluebells of Scotland—that’s one way of way of making sure ye never forget when ye married.”

Nhaimeth spoke with some apprehension, fearing he was treading where only fools dare to go, and he’d stopped being a Fool a long time ago; but Rob was the best friend he had ever had and, until now, he had never been frightened of asking awkward questions. “And what have ye got to remind ye, Rob? Ye dinnae seem happy. Do ye not love Melinda?”

“I thought I did. Now I’m not sure. I ken ye will keep my confidence when I tell ye that when I left Cragenlaw on my own two summers ago, I went into the forest near Wolfsdale and camped in the cave near the gypsies’ winter home, searching for her. It sounds daft now, when she can hardly bear me to come near her, but back then I was still mad for her. Of course, I never saw hide nor hair of her. She would have been housebound and getting near her time. What with two braw lads in her belly, moving around would have been hard on her.”

Rob looked down, checking that Nhaimeth was taking it all in and not eyeing him with looks of disapproval.

“That’s understandable. I discovered Rowena less than four months ago, and now I feel I couldn’t live without her.” They were in the stable loft, a place they had haunted as lads—hidden there when life became unbearable and shared their secrets, certain the other one would always understand. “So ye were aware of the cave afore we even set out?”

“It seemed safe, and I felt sure the Normans would point their noses northward when they searched for stragglers.” As Nhaimeth watched, Rob pulled out a strand of straw frae the bale he sat upon, and began chewing the end, then pulled it out of his mouth again, damp and mangled as if considering what to do next; then he spoke. “That cave is where Morag nursed Euan back to health all these years ago. It was after a battle with the Anglo-Saxons—his first battle—and it almost killed him, just as my first almost killed me. History does sometimes repeat itself. It’s as if next time the Green Lady was intent on getting it right. That cave is where I was conceived, and she led us back there. As for being with Melinda, my efforts may have been played out more comfortably than Euan’s were but the result was much the same.”

The news gave Nhaimeth pause, but only briefly. Rob’s decision to confess all only broke off for a few moments. “It was my fault. I should have been more careful. Christ’s blood, Euan warned me often enough when I was younger. A Chieftain has to be responsible for his actions, and I tried. Every other time I pulled away, careful not to spill my seed where it might take, but that last night … I had this thought that I might never see her again at the back of my mind, and look what happened—two bairns. Aye, it was all my fault, and I’m damned if I can see my way around making amends.”

With a shake of his head, Nhaimeth decided to speak up. He was sure Rowena wouldn’t mind. “Now listen to me. Yer not to blame. Just before we became betrothed, Rowena told me something. Now whether ye believe she can foresee the future or not doesnae matter, but to me it make sense, as if the Green Lady had cast her mantle over us and was leading the way.

“Do ye remember when we were lads and ye told me the secret of Morag and ye being mother and son, and how that uncle frae Wolfsdale drove ye away, him and his catamite. I never told anyone, never betrayed that confidence, well I’m asking the same of ye now.”

Immediately, the only friend Nhaimeth could always trust held out his hand to shake his. Some might laugh and believe it was an uneven promise, seeing Rob’s hand swallow up Nhaimeth’s—twice the size and more. “Ye have my hand on it, Nhaimeth.”

“Last night Rowena made a prophecy. Ach she didnae plan it. I could see this distant look in her eyes, as if she were someplace else. She told me that she and I, two wee dwarfs, had to protect yer sons.” He felt his heart race and the blood rise to his face as he reached the final prediction. “She says that through one of them, someone, a descendant years into the future will do something great for Scotland—an act that will stir Scottish blood aeons hence.”

Rob let go his hand and told him, “I’ve never seen ye this worked up since the day Lhilidh died, and ye loved her as much as I did.”

“As a sister, but I thought yer heart would break that night.” As he said this, something dawned on Nhaimeth. “Can’t ye see this was all part of the Lady’s plan. Ye couldn’t marry Lhilidh, for then Harry and an Ralf wouldnae exist.”

Grim-faced, Rob said, “I killed my first man that night, and Harald deserved it, but Lhilidh didn’t. It fair broke my heart, but ye probably have the right of it. Though her father turned out to be Jarl of Caithness, her mother was still a whore—though never tell Kathryn I said so. It wouldn’t have done.”

“Aye, for a while I thought her mother was mine, and though she treated me kindly, she ne’er told me the truth about my birthright and how Erik the Bear snatched it away frae me. It took Astrid to tell me who I am and should have been, but Erik was right, unlike Rob McArthur—”

Rob butted in, “Farquhar if we’re sticking to the truth.”

“Who can tell what the truth is in this turmoil Scotland has sunk into. Donald Bane has made a claim on the throne, but if he ever sits there, I predict it willnae be for long enough to warm the stone with his fat arse.”

There, in the stable loft, they both began laughing at the jest, as they had many a day since they met. “Is this gift of Rowena’s catching? For here’s ye making predictions now.”

“Nae that was simple common sense speaking.”

Rob’s dark blue gaze held Nhaimeth’s for a long moment. “Well, wee friend, I think it would be common sense to take heed of Rowena. Until the danger she sees for them is over, if I’m not with my sons, then ye must be, Nhaimeth. Do this for me, and I promise to dance at yer wedding in that time when the bluebells flower, and I’ll make sure it’s the finest wedding celebration held at Cragenlaw in many a year.”

To say Nhaimeth was surprised was nae exaggeration, after all, a wee Fool like him was likely to believe in many notions a Chieftain might scoff at. “Ye mean since yer wedding?”

“Nae, my wedding wasnae a celebration, merely convenient.” That said, Rob rose up frae the hay bale and descended the ladder into the stables, leaving Nhaimeth to wonder what might happen next. Frae the day they met, their lives had ne’er been without excitement, and that didnae appear likely to change any time soon.

Whistling a wee tune under his breath, Nhaimeth followed Rob down the ladder, thanking the auld gods that both he and Rob were still young enough to cope with any havoc that came their way.