Our life, sweetness, and hope, hail…
The door banged and she startled and turned. A man shuffled down the center lane. He was an older man with little gray hair on his head. Given his attire of all-black garments and a vestment edged with golden embroidered crosses, she discerned he was a priest. Eva tilted her head to him when he reached her.
“I hope you do not mind, Father, but I…” She wasn’t sure what she should say.
“Good blessed day, lass. All are welcome here inside God’s domain. I heard ye singing and how pleasing it was to my ears.” His smile was infectious.
“I apologize, Father…”
“Aye, for what? Oh, forgive me, but I am Father Murphy, and who are ye? I have not seen ye hereabouts.”
“Eva. Ah, I recently married Breckin Buchanan, the laird.”
The priest bowed and bobbed his head. “Oh, Milady, I should have known who ye were right off because I heard that Laird Buchanan had taken a wife. ’Tis a pleasure, aye. Now tell me why ye would apologize for singing?”
“Where I lived, our clergymen forbade women from singing in church. I secretly had a brother teach me the songs because I loved to sing and the sounds of the words.”
“God would not discourage anyone from singing in His house. Ye are welcome to sing anytime ye wish in our church, Milady.” Father Murphy rounded her and reached the altar. He pressed a large volume open and peered down at the words then closed the book and lifted it. After he tucked it under his arm, he left the altar area. “I am preparing for Mass on the morrow and wanted to find the perfect scripture in the Good Book. I hope ye join us.”
“I will be gladdened to, Father.”
“Stay as long as ye like,” he said and walked to the exit.
The door banged closed and Eva found herself alone again. She sat on the closest bench to the altar and her heart burst with happiness as she sang:
Queen, Mother of Mercy:
Our life, sweetness, and hope, hail.
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.
To you, we sigh, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.
Turn then, our advocate, those merciful eyes toward us…
Chapter Eleven
“What do yemean ye do not know where she is?” Breckin had returned to his holding and rushed to his aunt’s cottage. He’d wanted to ensure that Eva had recovered from her illness but now that he’d arrived, she was nowhere in the cottage.
“She was here when I went to the river to do my laundry. When I got back, she was not here.” Clare continued to fold her laundry as if it didn’t matter that Eva was missing.
Breckin pressed at the throb of his head. “I will go in search of her. If she returns before I do, send someone to find me.” He left the cottage with a slam of the door. His aunt was being uncaring which was unlike her. But then, he hadn’t spent much time in her presence in the last year or so. She’d always been amiable toward him whenever he’d stayed at the cottage.
As he walked along, his clansmen tried to stop him but he waved them off. At the bridge, he peered across and wondered if that was where Eva had gone. He spotted Aymer talking with his brother, Alton, and approached. “Have ye seen my wife? She’s not in Clare’s cottage.”
“Och, nay, Laird, but I just got on duty,” Aymer replied. “She could have come this way.”
Breckin scoffed with an expletive and crossed the bridge. At the other side, a group of his soldiers stood about. When he reached them,he saw his brothers. One appeared to be sitting on the wood rail of the bridge and the other stood next to him. When he got closer, he realized his brother was injured and a piece of splintered wood stuck through his brother’s lower leg.
“Are ye going to weep like a lass, Conner?” Caden asked with a snicker of laughter. “Ye be bleeding like a stuck pig. Aye, ye are gushing.”
Connor whimpered and huffed. “Cosh, it hurts! Get me off…!”
“Went straight through his leg, aye, that is going to hurt,” one of his soldiers remarked, “when we pull it from him.”
Breckin shoved back the soldier and knelt near his brother. “What did ye do to yourself?”
“I was…walking on the rail…and it broke,” Connor said and whimpered.
