“I am pleased to know that,” the priest said. “Cicely must be treated gently and with kindness. Ian loved her deeply, and she has become accustomed to it.”
“Did she love him at all?” Sir William asked curiously.
“Aye, she did. Not as he did her, but she did care for him. The tragedy is that they were just really getting to know each other well, becoming more at ease with each other. Cicely never really got over the king’s appropriating her dower portion. Only Ian’s love took the sting of it away. And now she must continue on without him, with a child, and penniless but for whatever your son will allow her.”
“I will see she receives the rents from three cottages annually,” Sir William said.
The priest smiled. “ ’Tis generous,” he approved.
Cicely did not return to the hall that afternoon. She had Orva come to ask Sir William to excuse her, as she was not well. Mab nonetheless saw that a splendid supper was set upon the high board for the priest and their guest. When the morning came and Sir William was preparing to depart Glengorm, Cicely came into the hall to bid him farewell. She was pale, and looked as if she had not slept well at all.
“I could not allow you to leave without a proper farewell,” she told him with a small smile. She wore a dark blue gown with a high waist and long, tight sleeves.
Looking at her, he thought how lovely she was. Enceinte with her first child, and mourning a husband she had just lost, she still possessed a beauty that was almost luminous. If Kier were not a total fool she would make him a fine wife. “I was sorry you were not with us at supper,” he said. “Mab is a wonderful cook.”
“I need to know what you mean to do about the Grahames,” Cicely said. “My husband should be avenged, even as he avenged his brother’s death at their hands.”
“I want no border feuding; nor did Ian, for Ambrose has told me his dying wishes,” Sir William said to her. “But I should not object if you wrote to your friend Queen Joan. Perhaps Scotland’s queen can urge her royal relations in England to speak with their warden in the northern marches. Let them punish the Grahames. It will take time, my dear, but other lives will be saved. I want no more widows like you and Marion Douglas weeping for the loss of their men. Nor do I wish to lose any more good men.”
He took her small hand in his, tucking it into his arm as they walked from the hall towards the door of the house. “I am sending you my own son to watch over Glengorm. He will come within the next few days, for the ground is already frozen and winter is about to set in. I do not want you and your folk unprotected, for while winter is not usually raiding season, one cannot now be certain, given the dishonorable actions of the Grahames. It is my duty to see you are protected, Cicely. You need have no fear, for Kier will keep you and Glengorm safe for the Douglases.”
They passed through the open door. Sir William’s horse and men awaited him. The clan chieftan kissed Cicely upon both of her cheeks, then mounted his animal and, raising his hand, signaled his men to begin their journey home. She waved her hand in a gesture of farewell, watching in the cold morning air until Sir William and his party were out of sight. Then, calling for her fur-lined cloak, Cicely walked down the path leading to the village to see her sister-in-law, Marion Douglas.
Marion’s two little daughters tottered towards her as she entered the large, comfortable cottage where they lived. Marion, sewing by the hearth, jumped up to greet Cicely shyly. “Sit down! Sit down!” she invited. “I am honored by your visit.”
“I came to tell you that Sir William came last night. He was shocked to learn that both of our men were gone. We were all so intent on Ian’s well-being that no one ever sent to him when Fergus was killed. I’m sorry.”
Marion Douglas reached out to pat Cicely’s cold hand. “I understand,” she said.
“Sir William has appointed one of his sons to come to Glengorm to protect us all,” Cicely said with a wry smile, and Marion laughed, understanding. “I thought you would want to tell your mother this news.”
“I think she would appreciate hearing it from you,” Marion said. “She has liked you from the beginning, but you rarely come into the village.” Getting up, she went to the cottage door, opened it, and called out, “Fetch my mam. The lady is here.”
Within another moment or two Mary Douglas came into the cottage, and with her came most of the women in the village. They crowded into Marion’s cottage, looking anxiously to Cicely, and remaining very silent, which was unusual.
“Good morrow,” Cicely greeted them when it became apparent that not another of the village women could get into the dwelling.
“Good morrow, my lady!” they chorused back at her.
“I thought to give my news to you first,” Cicely said to Mary Douglas, who was acknowledged as a woman of importance among her peers. Cicely understood the importance of respect given within the small community.
Mary smiled, and her eyes twinkled. “This will be easier on me, my lady,” she said. “And more will hear it right than get it wrong.”
Cicely laughed softly, and nodded. Then she turned her attention to all the women within the chamber. “Sir William came yesterdayto pay his respects to the laird, God assoil him, and to bring us his condolences,” she began, and there was a low murmur of approval as heads nodded. “He is concerned for the safety of Glengorm,” Cicely continued, “and so he is sending us his son, Kier Douglas, to mount our defense against the Grahames and their ilk.” Cicely put her hand on her belly. “My bairn cannot take up the duties his father left him until he is grown. Douglas lands must not fall into the hands of others. Our defender will arrive in a few days’ time, and I wanted you to know.”
“It is good of you, my lady”—Mary Douglas spoke for them all—“to do us the courtesy of coming to bring this news. I thank you.” She turned to the others. “All right, you have heard what you needed to hear. Get you gone back to your own cottages!” And as the others exited, the older woman turned to Cicely. “When it is time for the bairn to come,” Mary Douglas said, “I want you to call for me as well as the midwife. I know as much as she does. Now, can you tell me what Sir William said about this son of his?”
“He spoke more with the priest than he did with me,” Cicely responded. “I know little other than that the man is his son, and will mount our defense for the heir.”
Mary Douglas nodded. “I’ll see what Ambrose has to say.”
“I swore to Ian before he died that I would not risk Glengorm lives avenging him, but it goes against my grain to allow the Grahames to run free. I have another way of exacting our revenge, however, and when it is complete I will tell you,” Cicely told her two companions. Then she arose. “I must get back to the house,” she told them.
When she had departed, Mary Douglas turned to her daughter. “If the bairn the lady carries is a lass, then Sir William surely means to give Glengorm to his son,” she said. “It is what I would do in this situation if the decision were mine.”
“I wonder if the lady realizes it,” Marion said.
“If she doesn’t know now, she will soon enough,” Mary Douglas said. “Well, better another Douglas than a stranger. And Sir Williamis clever enough to make certain the king will approve what he is doing, lest James Stewart send another to fill our dead laird’s place. These be Douglas lands, and have been forever.”
