17
Flanked by the twins, Ailis stood on the battlements and watched Alexander lead the men of Rathmor to the chosen battlefield. She would be able to see the battle, but the distance would make seeing each man distinctly a little difficult. Alexander would not really be distinguishable from his men except that he would be in the lead, but in the fever of battle, who led would soon be difficult to determine. Even his banner might cease to be an exact marker. She ached to be closer, to be near enough to keep a close eye on Alexander, but there was no chance of that. He had left orders that she was to be very closely watched. The command revealed that he knew her far better than she had realized, but she did not appreciate that at the moment.
Alexander turned to wave a final farewell, as did Barra and Jaime, who would guard Barra’s back. To Ailis’s pleasant surprise, Angus also waved. She readily returned the gesture, then looked to Kate, who stood off to her right and held Sibeal in her arms. Both of them also waved to the men. Ailis found herself deeply relieved to see no sign of concern or fear on Sibeal’s face. It had to mean that Sibeal had not seen any troubling visions, had had no dark dreams. Ailis told herself not to put too much faith in that, but it was hard not to have a little more hope.
“This must be hard for ye, mistress,” Kate said as she set little Sibeal down. “The father of your son marching off to clash swords with your clan and your kin.” Kate shook her head. “ ‘Tis sad.”
“ ‘Tis sad that men canna find a better way to solve their differences,” Ailis grumbled.
“What sets between the MacDubhs and the MacFarlanes is far more than mere differences. ‘Tis far deeper than that.”
“Oh, aye, I ken it.” She rested her forearms on the cold stone. “I do but vent my anger, my helplessness.”
“ ‘Twill be fine, Aunt Ailis.” Sibeal patted Ailis on the arm, then let Rath take her by the hand and lead her away.
Ailis watched her niece carefully led off of the walls by her nephews. “Now, was that merely a courtesy, or was she trying to tell me something?”
“ ‘Tis probably as well not to ken exactly what it meant. What I should like to ken is—is Jaime a skilled fighter?”
As she met Kate’s worried gaze, Ailis suddenly realized that she did not really have an answer for that. She felt briefly guilty, then shook the feeling away. It was not her fault. Jaime had not done much fighting, and it was not really a skill she was knowledgeable enough about to be a good judge. Then she saw how Jaime had been placed in the battle order and felt she had her answer.
“He has been set to guard Barra’s back, Kate. Someone must think that he is skilled.”
“Ye have never seen Jaime fight? I thought he was your protector?”
“Aye, but he never really needed to wield a sword to do that. Now, if ye asked me—if ten men charged Jaime, could he knock the fools aside?—I could say aye in all confidence. A sword fight? I simply canna be sure. But I point again to the fact that he has been placed at Sir Barra’s back. Some man who can judge such things far better than I has judged Jaime fit enough to guard one of the heirs.”
Kate grimaced, then nodded and smiled faintly. “I worry too much. Jaime often tells me so. There is one other thing that I do worry on, and that is that he might be confronted with his own kinsmen, face to face, sword to sword.”
“And will our softhearted Jaime have the stomach to protect himself against them?” Ailis finished and smiled at Kate. “The chances are very few that Jaime would meet any of them on this battlefield. His father and elder brother died long ago, and the rest arena soldiers, mere arrow fodder at best, but mostly left behind to plow or reap muck out the stables. Even if they are there and by some strange twist of fate Jaime should meet them, he willna hesitate to protect himself if they attack. His fear of them has eased, and he has learned not to meekly accept anything they say or do, but to fight back.”
“That does ease my mind, but can ye say the same?”
“Can I protect myself against my own kin and the MacCordys? Aye, without hesitation. What kin I had any affection for have all died. The lot who march against Rathmor and Alexander are naught to me. ‘Twill be sad to accept that there can never be anything, but that isna my fault. They chose the path they walk down. Since it is me and mine they wish to hurt, I feel I can cut all ties to them. The few I still care for at Leargan willna be out on the field.”
“And the ones ye care about shall survive this day.”
“I pray we both shall have cause to smile when this is all over.” She reached out to briefly clasp Kate’s workworn hand. “Dinna forget what ye promised me.”
“Nay, I willna. If the MacCordys and the MacFarlanes succeed, and please God they willna, your son will be safe. There isna a man or a woman here who would turn that child over to our enemies. I will claim him as mine, and if I fall, there are women aplenty ready to step forward and claim him.”
Ailis relaxed, her fears soothed for the moment. “So, there is naught else to do but wait.”
Alexander drew his mount to a halt. He could have easily walked the distance from Rathmor to the chosen field, but that would have lacked presence. His men found added strength in the appearance he presented, and, he hoped, it would make the enemy view him with some respect. Once dismounted, he met with the men he had sent out to watch the MacFarlanes and the MacCordys.
“Have they tried any of their sly tricks?” he asked his men.
Red Ian grimaced. “They did try. There were several archers placed so that ye wouldst be pelted from all sides. ‘Twould whittle down your strength until MacCordy could win.”
“But ye took care of the rogues?” Alexander was disgusted that his enemies could not even fight their last battle with honesty.
“Aye, that threat is no longer. There is only one other wee thing of interest. It concerns Sir Malcolm MacCordy.”
“He has joined his kinsmen again, I presume.”
“ ‘Tis difficult to say.” Red Ian dragged his fingers through his bright copper hair. “He no longer rides with them but has camped a few yards beyond the western line of trees. He claims he has had enough of his cousins’ feuds and pointless battles. ‘Twas a loud argument, so I believe I ken most of what was said.”
“He had broken from his kinsmen, then,” Alexander frowned and rubbed his chin. “Do ye think we can trust to that? ‘Tis true that the man was never that close to his kinsmen, but he could also be very sly.”
