Page 67 of The Refuge

“Do be careful, Fia. Cristina would not approve of your sneaking away to meet the bard.”

“Aye, she is a hard one, but more easily fooled than Margaret, who sees into the hearts of her ladies. I think the queen knows I care for Rhodri.”

“No doubt she does. One would have to be blind to miss it. ’Tis all over your face when you look at him.”

“As are your feelings for Steinar when he draws your attention. I think he has replaced Domnall in your heart.”

She would not deny it. “Aye, you may be right. But our pining for those two will not lead to marriage.” Then remembering the orphan boy, she asked, “Will you look after Giric while I am gone? I will ask Niall to see to Kessog as well as the lad but you will be there when Giric comes to break his fast. I would not want him to be lonely.”

“Gladly. I will enjoy breaking my fast with the boy and his little dog. Shadow never barks during the meal.”

Catrìona could not resist the smile she returned her cousin. “’Tis because Giric feeds the whelp beneath the table. I saw him doing it when the men sat down to eat upon their return from Northumbria.”

“I should have noticed that, but the lad is quick with his hands.” Reaching for her own gown, Fia said, “You and Audra enjoy your travel. I am content to stay in Dunfermline and see to the boy.”

Satisfied Fia was not feeling left out, Catrìona helped her cousin with her gown, then turned her mind to the evening. “There will be a celebration tonight. Mayhap the bard will entertain. There must be many tales from Northumbria he can set to song.”

“Aye and some of them could tell of the archers’ flaming arrows. My heart pounded in my chest as Steinar spoke of them rushing through the air like a great wind!”

“You are as bad as Giric. His eyes grew huge as Steinar told the stories.”

“The lad is very fond of the scribe,” observed Fia.

Catrìona reflected on the time they had spent in the hall listening to tales from the raid. “Aye, and with good reason. Both Steinar and Rhodri are warriors and so would Giric be one day if he has his way.”

“I wonder what happened to render the lad an orphan,” said Fia.

Catrìona had wondered the same thing many times. “The queen never speaks of the boy’s beginnings and I have been too much the coward to ask.”

* * *

That night, as Catrìona descended the stairs with her cousin, the mood of the crowd gathered to celebrate the king’s return was festive. Warriors, now bathed and shaved, were carrying on lively conversations with the women from the village invited to share the feast.

At the bottom of the stairs, the king’s captain waited, wearing the copper-colored tunic.

“My lady,” Colbán said, bowing before her, “allow me to escort you and your cousin to your table.”

An uncomfortable feeling swept over Catrìona as she placed her hand on his offered arm. Shooting a glance at Fia, she said, “We would be honored.” She was certain his request was in the nature of an order.

He deposited them at their table and strode away.

Fia whispered, “I told you those falcons would mean trouble. I have the feeling that man was marking territory.”

“Surely you are wrong,” she said, hoping it was true. “He was merely being gracious to one of the queen’s ladies who did him a kindness.” At first she had been glad he had not found fault with her stitchery, but his attendance on her now caused her to wonder.

While the men had been away, Catrìona had begun the blue tunic for Steinar, oddly happy to be sewing for him when she had not liked similar tasks done for others.

“Apparently the king’s captain did not look closely at my stitches,” she remarked to Fia, “or he would have been frowning.”

“From what I could see,” said her cousin, “the work was not lacking. Besides, ’twas not the stitches that garnered his attention, ’twas you.”

“But you said he looks at all the queen’s ladies. Surely it is Elspeth who holds his attention, not me. He seems to bask in her flirtations.”

“Elspeth showers him with attention, aye, but I cannot imagine a man like Colbán content with her for long.”

A few seats away, Elspeth laughed merrily. “She is yet young,” said Catrìona. “You remember how we were three years ago.”

“Incorrigible,” said Fia. “And mayhap you still are.”