Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lestalric explained as he handed Adela from Henry's tilt-cart that they had passed the points marking the beginning of the portion of the abbey kirkyard lawfully designated as sanctuary.

"So even if Fife comes after us, we're safe enough for now," he added.

"Will I wait here for ye, m'lord?" the driver asked.

"Drive round to the east side of the abbey, out of sight of the Canongate," he said. "We'll send for you when we want you."

Nodding, the man urged the horse forward, and as the cart rattled away over the cobblestones, Adela accepted Lestalric's right arm and they turned toward the abbey. Before they had taken more than a few steps, one of the monks came hurrying toward them, his long black, hooded gown and white cassock flapping around his legs as he walked.

"Who art thou, sir?" he asked in a quiet but carrying voice.

"Sir Robert of Lestalric," he said. "Prithee, send for the abbot at once. I would have speech with him."

Without argument, the monk turned to precede them inside.

"Mercy," Adela said as they followed him, "I did not think they would welcome us so easily."

"My family is held in high regard here," Lestalric said. "Holyrood Abbey stands today only because, when Ed-ward of England took Edinburgh Castle in 1296, and all lands south of the Firth including those of the abbey, a Lestalric priest who had become abbot here swore a solemn oath of fealty to him. He thus secured the safety of the abbey and its lands."

"The English destroyed Scone Abbey during their occupation then, did they not?" Adela asked as they approached the imposing entrance to the abbey kirk.

"Aye, and threatened or destroyed other abbeys, as well," he said, nodding to the monk, who held the door for them to enter the candlelit vestibule.

"Wait here, my lord," the monk said quietly. "I will fetch my lord abbot."

"I warrant some would think your Lestalric abbot ought to have been more loyal to Scotland," Adela said as the man passed her and walked toward the transept, where another monk was just rising from his devotions. "Many men died defying the English then to win our freedom."

"Aye, but an abbot's first duty is to his abbey, lass. Many of those who stood against the English, including the original de Lestalric family, forfeited everything. Edward I seized their lands and castles for his own use. Don't forget, the English stayed here for many years. Abbot Adam did his duty when he saved Holyrood."

"Aye, he did, and for that we must all be grateful," declared a booming voice from the front of the kirk. A large, plump, elderly man in the same black-and-white Augustinian habit as the monk's strode forward, and Adela realized he was the one she had seen at his prayers. "I am abbot here, my son. My baillie, Brother Joseph, tells me you are Sir Robert of Lestalric. Indeed, I can see as much for myself, as you are the image of Sir Walter. But Brother Joseph says you have need of me."

"Aye, my lord, but I should warn you that aiding us may anger the Earl of Fife. I do not want harm to come to you or others of the abbey."

"I believe I can manage the lofty earl," the abbot said with a look of distaste. "His lordship declares himself a religious man… . but I must not be uncharitable. Tell me instead how I may serve you."

"We want to marry, my lord abbot, at once and with-out banns. I am prepared to make a generous gift to the abbey if such a gift would be suitable and if you will not object to waiting until I learn more about my newly inherited holdings."

"We never reject alms, my son, but no Lestalric need offer gelt in exchange for favor here. I expect you are both free to wed and have need for haste, also that you prefer not to resort to such ancient customs as marriage by declaration."

"We are both free, and in this instance, I believe having the seal of the Kirk and your blessing, if possible, would be preferable," Lestalric said.

"Then I will do as you ask," the abbot said. "Brother Joseph, fetch one of the other brothers, so the pair of you can bear witness. Stay, though, as it is close upon the hour of Nocturnes, ask the others to lend us their presence, as well."

The monks arrived swiftly, and as they took their places on the left side of the transept, the abbot led Adela and Lestalric up the arcaded right-hand side aisle to the small transept chapel at the end of it. He began the service in front of the altar there with a brief benediction, asking God's blessing on all present, then adding, "Does any man here object to this union?"

Adela held her breath.

Then, as he started to speak the first words of the rite, just as she dared to breathe again, she heard Lestalric, beside her, say, "Hold one moment yet, sir."

Surprised, the abbot broke off to look at him. "What is it, my son?"

Lestalric turned to face her. "Art sure, lass?"

She smiled, thinking how much his coming into her life had improved it already, how he had made her feel things again, had made life itself appealing again. "Aye," she said softly but nonetheless firmly. "I'm sure."

Without further delay, Sir Robert promised to take her as his wife for all time forward, "to have and to hold, for fairer, for fouler, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us depart, if Holy Kirk it will ordain."

"Have you a ring, my son?" the abbot asked then.

"Aye," he said, pulling the plain gold band from the little finger of his left hand. "'Twas my grandmother's," he said as he slipped it on Adela's finger.

She recited her vows then, which were the same as his except that, as his wife, she also promised to be meek and obedient in bed and at board. As she repeated those words, she remembered wondering at Roslin what Sorcha had thought of such a vow and if Hugo expected her temperamental sister to abide by it.

As she knelt beside Lestalric to receive the abbot's blessing, she believed she would have no trouble abiding by her vows. Lestalric seemed even-tempered, even mild by comparison with men such as Sir Hugo or Hector the Ferocious. It felt right and good to be marrying a man less likely to provoke her to any extreme behavior.

"You may rise and face the witnesses," the abbot said, smiling at them and declaring as they obeyed, "It gives me pleasure to present to you Sir Robert and Lady Logan of Lestalric, now man and wife. You may kiss your bride, my son."

As Lestalric bestowed a gentle kiss on Adela's lips, a familiar voice echoed from the rear of the nave.

"I vow, Rob, I did not expect this," Henry said as he strode toward them. "May one with some small responsibility for Lady Adela's welfare ask how you persuaded her to this mad course?"

Adela smiled. "Are you displeased with us, sir?"

"Not when I see you smile like that, lass," he said. "I had begun to fear we'd not see that smile again. But are you truly content with this?"

"Aye, sir, although I don't doubt that Sir Hugo and Sorcha will also think 'tis madness that drives me."

"My mother may wonder about your sanity, as well."

"Mercy, do you think so?" She had not considered what the countess's reaction might be. "Will she be vexed?"

"We'll just have to wait and see," Henry said.

"Don't torment her," Lestalric said. "I've a strong notion your mother will approve. Did you think to bring horses, Henry?"

"Nay, for despite what you see I am not really here at all," Henry said.

"You are but a shadow representing yourself; is that it?"

"Just so," Henry said. "When we saw the men waiting at Sinclair House, my mother insisted that we stop to discover what reason they might give for such insolence. When their captain said Fife desired to question Lady Clendenen's guest further about certain matters, Mother declared with great haughtiness that Adela had suffered a severe indisposition. Being in my mother's charge and mine, as much as Lady Clendenen's, she told him, Adela had retired with his grace's consent to my rooms at the Castle and is not to be disturbed until at least midday tomorrow."

"Excellent," Lestalric said. "But will it serve, do you think?"

"We must hope it does until at least midday tomorrow."

"Mercy," Adela exclaimed, trying to ignore a shiver of fear. "What will happen when they cannot find me?"

"Doubtless, my mother will demand an explanation and accuse Fife of spiriting you away," Henry said, glancing at the fascinated abbot. "You won't repeat any of this, I hope, my lord abbot."

"I shall treat all you say as if said under the seal of the confessional."

"Just so you don't whisper a word of it to Fife," Henry said.

"Nay then, I would not!"

"But we'll need at least two horses," Lestalric said.

"Aye," Henry said. "But I'm thinking you'd better borrow them from the abbot here. Not only do I prefer not to show myself again tonight but I mean to send my mother home to Roslin tomorrow with a large mounted escort. With luck, Fife and his minions will not have any notion of what became of you two."

"You'll be traveling with the countess, of course."

"I want to discuss that with you," Henry said. "I slipped over here by crossing the back gardens until I reached the abbey grounds, from which only a hedgerow separates those on the Clendenen House side of the Canongate. No one saw me, but you should know that Fife's men tried to gain entry to Sinclair House."

"Doubtless they failed."

"Aye, but they did try."

"What of Clendenen House? Did they try that as well?"

"Apparently not. I doubt they'd expect to find anything there," Henry said. "You have been staying with me, after all, and if they are seeking the same thing they searched for at Lestalric, I doubt they'd expect you to trust Adela or Ealga with any secret you'd refused to entrust to your father or Will."

He smiled at Adela, then chuckled when she rolled her eyes.

"Anything that important, I'd keep on my person," Lestalric said. "But we are missing something, Henry. Fife did not try to arrest me. He wants Adela."

"Mayhap he seeks to use her to get to you."

"But why? To his knowledge, we've barely met. Even seeing us all together at Lestalric is hardly reason enough to suspect any closer relationship than that. But think of what he knows about Adela."

"Still," Henry said, "they searched Lestalric and tried to search my house."

The abbot said apologetically, "It is nearly time to ring the bell for Nocturnes, my sons. If you do not mean to linger for the service …"

Lestalric shook his head. "We ken fine that it is not your practice to include outsiders, my lord. But if you could lend me a pair of horses and allow us to depart southward through your grounds, we'd be grateful."

"South? Then you do not go to Lestalric Castle."

"Nay, Lestalric is not yet prepared for my bride. I will take her where I know I can keep her safe."

"You are welcome to the steeds," the abbot said. "Mayhap you would likewise accept a guide to see you safely through the abbey woods until you are south of Arthur's Seat. The area from here to where the ground begins to rise is marshy, because our drainage is poor. But you'll want to avoid the main roads for the first few miles. I collect that you also mean to make for Roslin."

"We would be most grateful for a guide, my lord," Lestalric said, without denying the suggested destination.

There were documents to sign, with Henry and Brother Joseph signing as witnesses to the wedding. When they'd finished, Lestalric thanked the abbot again.

"Brother Joseph will take you to the stables and provide you with a knowledgeable guide," the abbot said, extending a hand to him. "Go with God then, the pair of you. We hope to see you again when all is safe."

Outside, gathering mist formed a gauzy veil through which the full moon overhead glowed dimly. As they followed Brother Joseph to the stables, the abbey bell began loudly to toll the midnight hour of Nocturnes, startling Adela nearly out of her skin. Beside her, Lestalric put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"'Tis to be hoped this mist does not thicken," Henry said when the bell's tolling ceased. "Mayhap you should take torches as well as a guide."

"We'll be fine," Lestalric said. But when Brother Joseph left them to roust out a gillie, he said in an undertone, "What is your plan, Henry? I know you must be chafing to leave for the north, but—"

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you. But first, the countess sent this." Henry handed him a flask and a small jar. "Decoction of willow bark in the flask," he said. "The jar contains more of that salve she smeared on your wound."

Lestalric opened the flask and drank before saying, "Are you not leaving?"

"I've sent orders to my captain to take my ship to St. Andrews for a few days. I told him the countess requires my escort back to Roslin, so I'm hoping to save time afterward by having him attend to a matter for me in St. Andrews now. But I likewise told him that if anyone should inquire into my whereabouts, he is to say I am aboard ship. So, if Fife looks into my activities, he will believe me safely on my way to Orkney or Caithness."

"But if you escort Isabella—"

"I mean to do so, but I'll dress as one of her retainers with helmet and jack. Our people know me, of course, but none will betray me. I'll join you after I see her home. Here is our man returning," he added in a warning tone. "I'll go back the way I came, then bid Ealga farewell and escort Mother to Sinclair House before appearing to depart for my ship. That should settle them nicely if they're watching."

"Mercy, I forgot about Ealga!" Adela exclaimed. "I cannot just ride off—"

"Doucely, lass," Lestalric interjected, nodding toward Brother Joseph. "Henry will make your excuses to her ladyship."

"But there can be no excuse for such a departure," Adela said, controlling her tone with effort. "She has been so kind to me. To go in such a rude manner—"

This time it was Henry who interrupted, saying, "Rob is right, Adela. I'll say all that is necessary, and Ealga will understand. I do not think you realize how much danger you may be in. Obey your husband, lass."

She glowered at him, fighting to guard her tongue.

To her increasing fury, he chuckled. "The very picture of Sorcha," he murmured provocatively.

"Aye," Lestalric agreed. "And Lady Isobel, for that matter."

Much as Adela would have liked to slap them both, she could not. Moreover, the picture they had given her of her demeanor made her lips twitch.

Her husband put his right arm around her shoulders then, pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. His lips were warm, his arm likewise, and she sighed.

Nevertheless, she said, "I pray you, Henry, do not just offer her meaningless excuses. Tell her I am abject in my apologies for treating her so badly and look forward to seeing her as soon as possible to make those apologies in person."

"I'll tell her everything that is proper, lass, I promise. Now, here is your eager escort, so I must bid you both farewell."

Lestalric said ruefully, "Before you do, Henry, I should tell you that your tilt-cart with its driver and pony are waiting patiently for us behind the abbey. I told him we would send for him when we wanted him, but we don't want him, and I haven't a notion what to do with him. Do you?"

"Aye, I'll ask them to put him up here and stable the cart until it's safe to collect it. I shan't need it, and the less anyone sees of it now, the better. I'll deal with that after I've seen you off."

Both horses were equipped with men's saddles, but as the gillie held the sleek bay mare he had brought Adela, and Henry lifted her to the saddle, Lestalric said, "You are scarce costumed for riding, lady wife. I know you deplore the use of a woman's saddle, but are those skirts full enough to let you sit properly astride?"

"I can make them so if you men will turn your backs long enough," she said.

They did, and although the doing was awkward, since it entailed pulling up her shift, once it was rucked under her hips, her outer skirts were full enough to let her straddle the mare. She wore silk and her favorite lavender velvet cloak, so she knew she would be warm enough even if the air grew colder.

When she declared herself ready, Lestalric mounted his horse with less effort than one might have expected, considering his injury. Then, following their young guide out of the stable and around to the back of the abbey with Henry striding alongside to deal with his driver, they soon bade them farewell and were off.

The moon was still bright enough to show them the narrow muddy track the gillie followed through the abbey woods, which skirted a long, narrow loch extending much of the half-mile distance to the base of Arthur's Seat.

Trees grew to the lochside with the path wending its way a dozen feet from its bank, but the moonlight reflected from the mirrorlike surface of the water and provided sufficient light for them to see their way.

Eventually, they came to the foot of Arthur's Seat, and Adela gazed up at the hill the people of Edinburgh fondly called their sleeping lion.

Their guide urged them toward the hill's western end, and fifteen minutes later, he said, "There be the road ye want yonder, me lord. D'ye ken your way?"

"Aye, lad, I do," Lestalric said, extracting a few coins from his purse to give him. "Thank you for your aid."

Stammering his own thanks, the lad bade them goodnight and turned back toward the abbey.

Adela was alone for the first time with her new husband.

Rob gazed at her, sitting so serenely and easily on the bay mare. She had pushed her hood back. Now she reached up and began to pull pins from her caul.

"You might want to leave that on, lass," he said. "It could turn much colder before we reach our destination." He knew the lad might still be within earshot and did not want to mention where they were going.

Not that Fife would have trouble following if he discovered they'd headed south. He'd assume what the abbot had assumed and take the track toward Roslin, and, doing so, he would easily find them. Still, they had a head start, and Rob could see no reason to make anyone a gift of the information.

Adela was still pulling pins from the caul. How many did women use, he wondered, to hold the things in place? She was watching him, and when he frowned in his musing, she said, "I'm taking it off because it will give me a headache. It is one thing to wear a formal caul whilst one is dining or dancing, although I'd probably have pulled it off if we had joined the ring dances."

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, thinking she looked deliciously cool, almost silvery with her hair freed of its confines, spilling in a sheet down her back and looking almost white in the moonlight. He wanted to stroke it.

Just the thought of touching her stirred him, making him wish they could gallop the horses all the way to Hawthornden. But not only would such speed be impossibly foolhardy, it would be painful as well. Isabella's potion had worked its magic, but he was not sure it would keep doing so if he tested it in such a way.

As it was, he hoped he would be able to claim his bride when they arrived.

She smiled and said, "I shall do, sir. You need not coddle me. Our Highland weather is harsher than any I have met since I left there."

"Then let us not tarry," he said. "I look forward to a warm bed at the end of this journey." And more than that, pray God, he added silently.

She sobered, giving him a direct look. "You have not asked me," she said.

"Asked you what?"

"If I am … that is to say whether Waldron of Edgelaw took—"

"Sakes, lass, I thought I'd made it plain that I harbor no doubts. If you would have it plainer, let me say that in the very unlikely event that I should discover you are no longer a maiden, I'll own myself astonished and assume Ardelve somehow found sufficient time betwixt the ceremony and the feast to demand his husbandly rights. Either that or you suffered injury somehow through your love of frequent riding. Sithee, I have heard of such occurring."

She smiled again, this time more shyly. "I do not think I have ever been so injured, my lord."

"You may call me Rob, you know."

"Not Robbie?"

He grimaced. "I cannot imagine that you would want to call me so, but you may choose, lass. Call me what you will. I would be friends with my wife."

"Were you friends with Lady Ellen?"

"I do not want to talk about Lady Ellen on my wedding night," he said.

She gave him a narrow-eyed look, but he was growing accustomed to the way she sometimes seemed to peer right into the depths of him, and he gazed steadily back. He was not sure he could easily manage so steady a gaze had his conscience not been clear. But on the subject of Lady Ellen, it was as clear as a conscience could be. If he never saw the woman again, he would be content.

She nodded. "You did not ask, but you should know that Ardelve never touched me either. As you may have noted, we did spend some time alone in the countess's solar, but that was so he could tell me he had no intention of demanding his husbandly rights, as you say, until I was ready for him to do so."

She gazed limpidly at him, clearly awaiting his reaction.

He grinned. "Art hoping I'll make the same declaration? Because I'll tell you to your head I won't do any such thing. We've little more than five miles to travel, but at the end of those five miles …"

He watched her, still grinning, letting her fill in the rest for herself.

Adela could not have explained why she told him what Ardelve had said to her. Perhaps it was only that she found it easy to say what she liked to him. But it had seemed right to tell him, even to tease him a little and hear what he would say.

She had not expected his reply to stir feelings that she had experienced only once before. It was as if he had touched her—nay, as if he had kissed her again and not in the gentle way he had kissed her earlier in the abbey kirk, but thoroughly, as he had kissed her the night they met in the chapel at Roslin.

She fell silent then, thinking about what lay ahead— and not far ahead, only five miles. He seemed content to be silent, too.

She wondered when he would tell her about the map, for although she had not looked at it, she was sure that was what she had concealed for him in her bodice. He had trusted her with it, so it had not occurred to her to look. But she hoped he would tell her all about it and would do so before long.

The track they followed was wide enough for them to ride two abreast, and although the misty veil still occluded the moon, the night remained pleasant.

The air was still, the horses' hoofbeats dull and steady. Crickets chirped and frogs croaked. These sounds, punctuated with the occasional night bird's cry or fox's bark, filled the night with the music she loved best.

Without warning, he said, "Tell me more about what happened."

She did not have to ask what he meant, for she knew. And although she had scarcely spoken a word about her abduction to anyone, she hesitated only a moment before saying, "I told you how they came for me in Glenelg, that they rode right up to the kirk porch. 'Tis where we wed in the Highlands, sithee, not inside the kirk. I was beside Ardelve when Waldron snatched me up and rode away with me."

After that, it was easy this time to tell him more. He rarely asked questions, just let her relate her tale in the way she found comfortable. As she talked, she remembered details that she had not thought about since they had happened.

"He never hurt me," she said, then shivered, remembering. "He did slap me once, quite hard, before I learned to take care how I spoke to him."

"Did he?"

Only two words, but she shivered again at his tone, thinking it was as well that Waldron of Edgelaw was already dead.

"That was just the first day," she said. "He never struck me again."

"But he hanged someone right in front of you. You told me that. You must have been frightened witless the whole time you were with him. Do you still think he was not truly evil?"

"I know he was," she said. "'Tis odd, but since meeting you, I remember that time more clearly. Near the end of my time with him, I did come to realize he was evil. He believed the things he said, but perhaps if I'd been with him longer …"

"It was a gey long time, lass, just two days shy of a fortnight."

"You know exactly?"

"Aye," he said. "It was not so long ago, after all."

"No." She bit her lower lip, suppressing a flurry of unwelcome thoughts.

"Are you afraid something like it might happen again?" His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as if they discussed something ordinary.

When she did not answer straightaway, he added, "What did you think at first when Fife and his men came upon us today?"

She shivered again.

He reached for her and clearly did so without thinking, because his horse was to her right, his reins in his right hand. So he reached with his left.

"Damnation," he muttered.

"I'd nearly forgotten your wound," she said. "It seems to be mending much faster than I'd thought possible."

"Isabella is a witch with her potions," he said, smiling. "Sir William Sinclair traveled a great deal. He made a collection of potions and their recipes, as his father and grandfather had before him, and Isabella has long studied them. She gave me a decoction of willow bark in wine to drink for the pain and to avoid fever, and smeared some sort of salve on the wound. But she warned me to clean it well and put more salve on it when we change the wrapping."

"Do you think she would be willing to teach me some of what she knows?"

"Aye, and willingly," he said. "But let us talk more about you. It frightened you when Fife came upon us, did it not, even with Henry's men there?"

"I don't trust Fife."

"Nor should you," he said. "But I'm thinking it will do you no harm to learn some things I can teach you, ways you can protect yourself in the future. You must still be wary, of course, because women are always more vulnerable than men. But no woman is helpless, lass, as you learned for yourself. You handled yourself well. You stayed calm whilst you were with Waldron. Despite being frightened, you retained your ability to think and to act. Most men would not have done as well."

His words warmed her and stirred a sense of her old pride. She turned to thank him, but he was looking straight ahead. As she turned, he smiled.

Following his gaze, she saw a tall, square tower ahead, the pale moonlight turning its gray stones to silver. She could see portions of the river North Esk far below, flowing at the base of the high, sheer cliff atop which the castle perched.

"That's Hawthornden," he said. "Welcome to your new home, lass, at least until we can move into our own."