But it was not to be, and Leila would not mourn what could not be hers.She was more pragmatic than that.As the sun brightened the sky, she thought of the donkey in the tale and smiled.She recalled all that was good about her life, instead of dwelling upon the lack.She was handfasted to Fergus, a good and honorable man who treated her well, and resided in his home.She reminded herself that the smith thought well of her, as did Hamish and Murdoch.She, Hamish and Fergus had ensured the safety of the reliquary, and Calum was kind to her.She had been in Scotland a mere month.
Instead of reassuring her, that fact made her realize that she might have only eleven more months with Fergus as her husband.
Still, she did not know whether to tell him about the child.She might be wrong, after all, and she would not raise his hopes.Perhaps, she should wait until she missed a second bleeding, to be certain.
It felt like a deception, another post in that barrier—though it was an omission and not a lie.Still, it seemed like splitting hairs to note the difference.
Leila heard horses and rose from the bed, standing at the window but ensuring that she was hidden by the shutter.She caught her breath when Fergus glanced up as he mounted Tempest.The sight of him, she feared, would always have the power to stir her.She watched as they made their preparations.
The small party rode through the gates just as the sun slipped over the horizon.Fergus rode Tempest, Hamish rode a palfrey, Yvan rode his destrier and Murdoch rode another palfrey.A third palfrey pulled a wagon with a shrouded bundle in the back, and Gavin sat alongside the villager who rode in the wagon.Was it the young miller?Leila thought as much but could not be certain.
Leila watched the party until it were out of sight, still snared in indecision.Then she shook her head and decided to act rather than fret.She bathed in the cooled water from the night before, then dressed.She picked up her small rug, hoping the day ended with more promise than it had begun.
It should do so, for Fergus would be returned.
It waslate morning when Fergus and his party reached Dunnisbrae.
Stewart came to the gates himself to meet them.He was dressed for battle, as seemed to be his custom, and there was now a patch over his right eye.His expression was grim.“Where is she?”he demanded, then his gaze fell upon the bundle in the cart and he paled.
Fergus knew then that Stewart had cared for Isobel.
Gavin jumped from the wagon as soon as it stopped and ran to his father, who swept him up immediately.“She is dead, Father.She died!”
“What is this?”Stewart demanded.“Where?When?”He came to the side of the cart, and held the boy’s head against his shoulder, then flicked a finger.The miller’s son pulled back the shroud so he could see Isobel’s face and Stewart’s jaw clenched.He crossed himself and stepped back, obviously shaken.
“She came to Killairic yesterday,” Fergus said, choosing his words with care.“She said you had had a disagreement but I bade her to return home to resolve matters with you.It was too late for her to complete the journey before darkness fell, so she was to sleep in an empty hut in the village, then ride out this morning.”
“Not in the hall?”Stewart demanded.
“Not in the hall,” Fergus confirmed.
The other man winced.“Whatever killed her was not kind.”
“She ate a root,” Gavin said.
“What manner of root?”Stewart asked and the boy shrugged.
“I believe it was monkshood,” Fergus said.“My question is whether she knew the healing plants.Did she err in choosing this one, or did she select it apurpose?”
“You infer that my wife sinned and took her own life by choice?How dare you say as much!”Stewart’s voice rose.“Of course, she erred!What manner of hut did she occupy that such a root was even there?”
“It was the abode of the former healer of Killairic, and the sole one empty,” Fergus said with growing impatience.“I sought to give her shelter, naught more, Stewart, and to ensure that she was not riding during the night, when ill could befall her.”
Stewart took a deep breath and stepped back.“Of course, Fergus.I would ask your forgiveness for my sharp words.”He ran a hand over his head and looked almost lost.“This is a most unwelcome surprise.”
Although Fergus could appreciate the sentiment, it seemed most odd for it to have been expressed by Stewart.That man had not shown any such sensitivity or tact in the past, but he dared to hope that there was a change.It was clear that he was distraught by the loss of Isobel, which indicated that he had loved her.Perhaps there was more to his neighbor than he had glimpsed in the past.At Stewart’s gesture, Fergus’ company rode through the gates, where the villagers came to their doors to watch their passage.
“My lady Isobel is dead,” Stewart cried and the tale was repeated, the news spreading through the village.“I ask you all to name her in your prayers.She will be buried on the morrow.”He indicated the chapel ahead to Fergus.“Let us take her there, that the candles can be lit for the vigil.Summon the priest!”he called and a boy ran to do his bidding.
The little party followed his direction and dismounted before the chapel.The miller’s son halted the cart and Hamish helped him to lift Isobel.All were silent and the villagers crossed themselves solemnly.Together, Hamish and the miller’s son moved Isobel on to a board.Murdoch and Yvan aided them to carry her into the shadowed darkness of the chapel.Fergus followed out of respect.
The chapel had no windows and there was only a beam of light from the open door to illuminate the interior.The sole piece of furniture within it was the table that served as an altar.The cup and plate must have been locked away, for the table was bare.It was cool inside the chapel, and the floor was of beaten earth.They were lowering Isobel’s corpse before the alter when the chapel was plunged into sudden darkness.
All five of them started and spun.No doubt they each believed, as Fergus had, that the door had swung shut.Then Fergus heard a bar drop and knew otherwise.He lunged for the door but by the time he reached it, it was too late.The heavy wooden portal was secured from the outside, and he could not wrench it open.
“Stewart!Open the door!”
“Never!”that man said, his tone more characteristic.“You have taken what was mine, Fergus.Now I will take what is yours to see my vengeance served.”
