Chapter Eleven

Jasper sought refuge from his folly through Randel’s gruff company and a good deal of whisky. Eventually, he went in search of his mother and found her out at the dovecote, feeding the birds. She had always doted on them in a way she never had her own children.

They gave away Jasper’s approach with a flap of velvety wings and clatter of claws and retreated inside their sanctuary - foolish, skittish creatures. Why did softness always retreat from him? His heart still twisted with disappointment from his exchange with Rowenna, and his mother did not help.

‘Have you come to make amends for raising Beattie’s ire?’ she said.

‘Why should I, when his daughter raised nothing at all in me, mother?’

‘Aye, you like them poor and coarse, don’t you, my son? A decent lass will not stir you.’

The weight of the day pressed on him, but he still had to face her disapproval. ‘Mother, why would I ally myself to a clan as weak as water?’

‘Because the Beatties have substance, yet they are not too lofty, so a union will offend no one. It will not be seen as a threat. That lass, Emeline, is perfectly suitable in every way that matters.’

‘Aye, aside from the fact that I do not want her, and I never will. It is for me to choose my own bride, so that is an end to it.’

‘Do not act the fool, Jasper. It is one thing to seek out drabs in taverns. I can turn a blind eye to that. But to bring a whore into our home is insufferable.’

‘Rowenna is no whore,’ he growled. ‘We are to be handfasted, and she will give me a son.’

Joan Glendenning’s mouth fell open. ‘You cannot be in earnest. The MacCreadies have nothing to offer us. They are dirt poor, and their glory long since faded.’

‘Aye, they are poor, and Rowenna is payment for a debt that is owed, and that is why I took her.’

‘Bah. As if you care about the debt.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know full well why you took her. She looks just like that other cold bitch you tried to marry, and she did not want you any more than this one does.’

Jasper’s temper pounded in his ears. ‘Do not question me. I am master here.’

‘Aye, but not master of your desires. They drive you to folly, as always. You want that lass, and yet she looks at you with distaste. She should kiss your feet and be honoured that she is chosen by a Glendenning, but she looks down her nose at you.’ His mother’s mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘And, mark me, this one is no frightened rabbit. She is rough and hard. She is a MacCreadie – low, venal creatures, all of them, good enough for a quick tumble and nothing more. You could have the bonniest and most well-bred lass in the West March. Even Murtaugh Gunn has shown an interest in a union with Emeline Beattie.’

‘He is welcome to that bag of bones,’ said Jasper uncharitably.

‘His interest will lead him into a union that will give him power and an advantage over us.’

‘Power is one thing. But what about affection, kindness, warmth? Am I to have none of those comforts in my life?’

She shook her head. ‘You do not need love to rule, only strength. Why do you break your heart over women who are not your equal? They are vessels to carry your heirs, nothing more.’

‘Is that how my father treated you?’ said Jasper, instantly regretting the words, for he knew they had the power to wound.

His mother flinched. ‘Hugh understood the value of an advantageous match, as did I. We never expected to love each other, but between us, we managed to produce you and your sisters. After that, your father took his pleasure elsewhere, for I would as soon as lie down in a bed of rats as lie with him. But I gritted my teeth and did my duty, and for most women, that is what a bedding is.’

The rawness of his mother’s disdain for his sire was shocking. ‘You do not mean that,’ he gasped.

‘Do I not? A cold, hard arrangement is the best path, and it will bring forth an heir you can be proud of.’

‘I will have an heir soon enough, but I will also have loyalty and affection from my woman.’

‘Do not be a needy bairn, Jasper. A man, especially a laird, takes what he wants, and gives no quarter to the feelings of others.’

‘If I give her time, Rowenna may grow fond of me.’

‘Time is a luxury you do not have. A son must come, and soon, else your enemies will smell blood.’

‘I don’t need a child to fight my enemies. I will not force the lass, and I need not be cruel to get what I want.’

‘You need not be weak either. Do not feel you have to kiss her feet to open her legs.’

‘That is beneath you, Mother.’

‘Is it? If I do not make you see sense, who will? It is not as if your father could ever restrain your worst impulses.’ Her face twisted in bitterness. ‘Such a fine, strong son I have – brave and ruthless when you need to be. Yet you have one weakness, and it lies here.’

She thumped her fist to his heart with enough force to bruise. He would have cut down a man for half the insult. Jasper stared down at her hand, the veins standing proud of bone, the liver spots of old age tainting her skin.

‘Your heart is stout but soft, son,’ she said. ‘I fear it will be the death of you, just as love is the death of good sense, cunning and ambition.’

‘How can you say all this? What kind of cold monster are you?’

‘The kind that speaks the truth. Never apologise for being strong, Jasper.’

‘Perhaps strength is not the only way.’

‘Aye, but your way does not soften a woman’s feelings. Yours is a violent heart, Jasper. All you can summon is a desire too fierce and greedy or a cutting indifference, never the middle ground.’

‘You are wrong.’

She sighed. ‘Nothing so fragile as a man’s heart when he is in lust. Nothing so foolish. Have that lass if you must, then when you are sated, move on and wed the Beattie lass.’

‘No.’

‘But the MacCreadie Clan is on its knees, just waiting for the wolves to finish it off.’

‘Then it is ripe for the taking. If I wed Rowenna, I might one day have a legitimate claim to the MacCreadie lands.’

‘A few rocky acres that barely scrape them a living. And do not pretend that is the inducement. That lass looks like Brenna Bannerman, but she could not be more different, a lesser creature in all respects.’

‘Do not play the hypocrite. You hated Brenna.’

‘I did. But she had her virtues. She was raised softly, not dragged up by a drunken sot on a midden. She had grace and manners. This feral she-wolf is ignorant and wild, with a whiff of the savage about her.’

‘Then I will tame her until she is presentable.’

‘You cannot raise a gutter wench to be a laird’s wife.’ His mother’s voice rose to a screech as she sensed he would not give ground.

‘At least if she is a gutter wench, she will not look down her nose at me, like Isobel. And I will prove you wrong, as will Rowenna.’ Already, he was defending her.

‘Go and wound yourself then. The slut will never want you, just like the other one. How it shamed this clan that you humbled yourself for a woman, got on your knees and kissed her feet. And what did you get in return – you were spurned before all the clan by an English bitch who favoured that low-born bastard, Seaton Bannerman.’

Must she constantly drive a knife through his pride? It was a death by a thousand little cuts. Jasper’s dam of anger broke. ‘And then you pushed me to marry Isobel, didn’t you?’ he snarled.

‘It was a fine match that brought wealth and status to this family.’

‘I got no love from Isobel, nor would I ever.’

‘You’ll get no love from a MacCreadie slut either. If I must have her in my keep, swallow your scruples and get a son on her, whether she likes it or not.’

They fell silent. Jasper held his tongue with some effort, his fingers curling into fists. His family were like a cloud of annoying midges, always nipping at him, drawing their drop of blood.

‘I will arrange for the handfasting to be done,’ he said stonily.

His mother glared and hurried away, muttering, ‘A fool. I gave birth to a fool.’

***

Rowenna crept along the gloomy hallway. All was deserted in this high part of the castle, but the bustle of its occupants drifted up the stairs, so she was on her guard. She came upon several locked doors and a few windows, which gave her a view down to the yard. No escape there, as the drawbridge was heavily guarded. And there was no moat, just a wide ditch, so her reckless plan of jumping off the walls was useless. She would just break her legs on the rocky ground.

A little cry reached her ears, so faint she thought she might have imagined it - a cat, maybe? Singing followed – a cooing voice, high and soft. For a moment, she thought it might be the ghost of Jasper’s dead wife coming to haunt her. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

Rowenna swallowed hard and followed the sound to a slice of flickering light seeping from a half-open door. She pushed it open and stepped inside. A plump woman sat before a hearth exposing her vast breast to the suck of a tiny infant. She rocked back and forth, head down, singing softly, and a slurping noise filled the room as the bairn suckled greedily. Rowenna could only stare, for it was such a peaceful scene after the turmoil of her day. But she felt indecent in her spying.

She turned to go, but a floorboard creaked, and the woman looked up. The bairn detached from her nipple.

‘Goodness, but you are a bonnie one,’ she said. ‘For a moment there, I thought…’ The woman trailed off but continued staring, eyes scouring Rowenna’s face.

‘Forgive me. I must go.’

‘No, come in, lass. There is nothing to fear from me,’ said the woman, taking hold of her engorged nipple and sticking it back in the bairn’s mouth.

‘I do not want to intrude,’ said Rowenna.

‘Don’t you want to see Jasper’s bairn? Are you not curious?’ said the woman.

‘Why should I be?’

There was a friendly mockery on the woman’s face. ‘Because you are Rowenna MacCreadie, and word about the castle has it that this one’s da has a fearsome fancy for you. Come and warm yourself beside the fire. You are as pale as a ghost, lass.’

Rowenna stood like a fool, not quite knowing how to proceed.

‘Close the door,’ said the woman. ‘I usually like to leave it ajar, for this is a lonely part of the castle - too quiet for me. But the walls have ears, so it is best no one hears our business.’

There was something conspiratorial about ‘our business.’ Rowenna tried to tear her eyes off the woman’s taut, purple-veined bosom, and the pink mouth suctioned onto it.

The woman noticed and smiled down at the bairn. ‘Tis but flesh, lass. Nothing to fear. She is a greedy bairn, strong and lusty like her father. My name is Osla, and hers is Caitrin.’

‘You are a wet nurse.’

‘Aye, and that is my own bairn yonder.’ She nodded at a wooden crib in the corner, which held a sleeping pale-haired infant. ‘My sixth, he is, and he’s had his fill, but he’s not near as greedy as this one. She sucks me dry, but then, she is a Glendenning, and they are all the same.’

‘You do not like them, the Glendennings?’ asked Rowenna.

The woman shrugged. ‘They are no worse than any other rich ones hereabouts. They feed me well, and I sleep in comfort.’ She leant forward. ‘And while I am at Krasnmuir, my husband cannot get hold of me and put another bairn in my belly. So what have I got to complain about?’

Plenty, judging by the bitterness in her voice. Rowenna felt a little unsettled by the woman.

The baby’s mouth fell away, oozing a dribble of milk, which Osla wiped away with a grubby hand. ‘Do you want to hold her?’ she said.

‘I don’t think so.’

Osla held the baby out as if she would not take ‘no’ for an answer. ‘Here, take her. Caitrin will not bite, unlike her father, eh.’ She rose and thrust the bairn into Rowenna’s arms, her naked breast dangling - fleshy, pale and pendulous.

The woman groaned. ‘That’s better. Save my back for a bit. Let us talk for a while, for you should know something about the man before he drags you into his bed, lass. Unless he already has.’

‘You are insolent to say such a thing,’ said Rowenna.

Osla shrugged. ‘I suppose I am. My mouth always gets me into trouble in more ways than one,’ she said with a bawdy wink and a chuckle. The bairn was light in Rowenna’s arms, stirring a little, then settling down with a little sigh. She smelled of milk – a sweet smell, cloying but calming. A warm rush of feeling entered Rowenna’s heart. What it would be to have a bairn to love and cherish.

‘She likes you,’ said Osla. ‘Just as well, if you are staying, lass. It will be nice to have company in this wing of the castle, though I won’t relish listening to Jasper Glendenning grunting away on top of you every night. I suppose they might shuffle us off somewhere else by then, to give him his privacy.’

Rowenna’s mouth fell open at the thought, and she tensed, ready to hand the bairn back and leave.

‘Shocked you, have I?’ said Osla. ‘Well, lass, bedding Jasper Glendenning will shock you more. You are young, so I doubt you are prepared for that onslaught, and I am truly sorry for your plight.’

Rowenna suddenly had to know. ‘Is he a monster like everyone says? Will he hurt me?’

The woman laughed. ‘When I said onslaught, I meant he has wiles, lass. He is skilled abed, you see, and word has it once he puts his hands on a lass, he makes her melt into a puddle of lust. They all lift their skirts easily enough and let him take his pleasure whenever and however he wants. My husband could learn a trick or two from Jasper Glendenning if he wasn’t too lazy and selfish to bother. Wouldn’t mind getting a full belly so much if there was pleasure in it first. But with him, he just spits on his palm and shoves it in like a farmyard hog.’

Rowenna’s stomach curdled at the repulsive image the woman conjured. She had little knowledge of the act, having only seen her father and Morag in its aftermath, so she was woefully ignorant of matters of the heart, or loins for that matter.

‘I should not be here. I must go.’

‘Aw, lass. Don’t mind me. When you’ve suckled and birthed enough bairns, you learn to speak as you find, and I am no laird’s daughter with airs and graces to put on.’

‘I have no airs and graces.’

‘But you are a laird’s daughter and a bonnie one at that. I can see why you caught his eye.’

‘Because I look like that Brenna lass?’

The woman’s gaze darted to the door. ‘We do not speak her name, and nor should you. Drove a knife through his heart, that lass, and beggared the man’s pride. That is all you need to know. But you are like her, with that bonnie hair and a soft look about you.’

‘I am not soft.’

‘No, but softer than his wife, may she rest in peace. She was a great beauty- elegant, educated, rich.’ Osla shuffled her stool closer. ‘But do you know what? She was a cold fish, haughty. She would never sit down with me like this and talk. Servants were nothing to her, you see, insects to crush underfoot. Isobel Marlowe was far too fine for the likes of us or for the likes of the Glendennings. Jasper never gave a fig for her, and I think she knew it. ‘Twas as loveless a union as can be, for his heart was given away. Yet he did his best, did his duty by her night after night until it killed her. How do you like that?’

Someone shouted Rowenna’s name down the hallway, making her heart lurch.

‘Tis nothing to me what they thought of each other. Here, take his bairn. I must go.’

The woman grasped the bairn in her meaty hands. ‘No need to take offence. I was just saying, is all. I thought you might want to be forewarned about that, Jasper. It takes a clever woman to manage him, and you are so young - like a lamb to the slaughter. His lust will burn you up, lass.’

As Rowenna hurried out the door, Osla called after her. ‘Come again if you can bear it. I like to have company.’

When Rowenna returned to her chamber, a group of servants was waiting with a wooden tub and jugs of water. Despite her howls of protest, she was stripped and scrubbed to the point of being flayed alive. Did Jasper think she was a low, rank woman, no more than a beast?

‘A lamb to the slaughter,’ Osla has said, and that was precisely what she felt like.