A Sword Upon the Rose. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ followed the others inside. Although Godfrey was pacing in the hall, she went to one of the hearths there to warm her frozen hands. He whirled and stalked to her.

      His expression was dark and so ugly. Then she saw the unrolled parchment in his hand. He waved it at her.

      “You will be pleased to know that my father cannot spare a single man, and Brodie’s defense falls to me.” He threw the vellum at her.

      Her heart thundered. “That hardly pleases me.”

      “Oh, come! We both know you covet Brodie Castle, that you think you have a claim to it, that you hate me because I will be lord and master here—over you!” He wasn’t gloating. He was angry.

      “This place belonged to my mother, so I do have a claim, but not unless something ill befalls you,” she said carefully.

      “And you pray for just such an ill fortune, do you not? I don’t trust you, Alana!”

      “I do not want Brodie to fall to Robert Bruce.” She meant it. Her father might have forgotten her very existence, but he was her father, and she would be loyal to him in the end. “How can we defend Brodie?”

      Godfrey looked at her oddly as he paced, his energy pent up. “I see no way to prevail if Bruce attacks us. We must hope his interest lies in Nairn, Elgin and Banf. The earl is on his way to Nairn as we speak, where my father is, to plan a defense of all the Buchan lands.”

      Godfrey was frightened beneath the anger. She almost felt sorry for him, for he was in a terrible position—he could hardly defend Brodie against Bruce without any men. “I heard that Bruce destroyed Inverlochy, Urquhart and Inverness. That he left few stones standing. Is that true?”

      “It’s true.” His gaze was sharp. “I know what you are asking. I don’t know if he would burn Brodie to the ground. He is the devil. He destroys every castle he takes, so we cannot retake the ground and use it against him!”

      She could not bear to see Brodie reduced to rubble and ashes, and she closed her eyes to ward off such terrible images. She felt faint.

      She prayed she would not have a vision—that she would not see Brodie burned to the ground.

      “You might want to know one other thing, Alana.” His harsh voice broke into her thoughts and her eyes flew open. “Sir Alexander is on his way to Nairn, as well.”

      She froze.

      “What is wrong, Alana?” Godfrey leered, but with anger. “You are white! But this is not the first time your father has been but a short distance from us—without his ever calling.”

      Her heart lurched, hard. This would not be the first time her father had been in the vicinity, although he had never come to Brodie except that one time when she was a small child. Did she foolishly hope she might see him again? And what would she gain if she did?

      He had tried to arrange a marriage for her when she was thirteen, but his efforts had been short-lived. Since then, there had been no word. If he wished to see her, he would have simply sent for her. So either he had forgotten about her, or he simply did not care.

      It hurt, when the hurt should have died ages ago. “You are the bastard he does not want,” Godfrey said.

      She faced him, suddenly furious. “Does it please you, to be cruel?”

      “It pleases me greatly. And, Alana? You are to go to Nairn, immediately.”

      Was this a cruel jest? She stared, trembling, trying to decide.

      He slowly smiled. “My father demands you go to him now.”

      “Why would Duncan send for me?” she asked carefully, for she knew Godfrey might be toying with her.

      “Why do you think? Witch!”

      Alana was aghast. “What did you tell him?”

      “Did you not see my father victorious in battle?”

      She trembled. Duncan knew about her sight—everyone at Brodie did. “You told him about my vision,” she said slowly, with growing dread.

      “Aye, I did. And he wishes to speak with you.” He bent down and retrieved the parchment. He then placed it in the fire, watching it begin to burn. “If I were you, I would begin to think about what I saw. He will want to know everything.”

      “I told you what I saw,” she cried. Her mind raced frantically. She had lied about having a vision of Duncan. And she despised Duncan, feared him in a way that she did not fear Godfrey. What should she do? Duncan might beat her if he learned of her lie. He would surely punish her in some way.

      “You are not pleased? Do you not wish to see Sir Alexander?” Godfrey asked.

      Alana could not even think clearly. However, foolishly, she must admit that she did hope to see Sir Alexander again.

      And now, she must hope Nairn was not attacked, not anytime soon.

      * * *

      “THIS IS MADNESS!” Eleanor cried. She was pale.

      Alana smiled grimly. “I cannot refuse Duncan, Gran, and you know it. You also know he will be displeased if he learns I lied about my vision.”

      Eleanor sat down, stricken. The women were in the small tower chamber they shared, two narrow beds beneath one window, a small table between them. The only other piece of furniture in the chamber was a chest, in which they kept their belongings. Alana was folding an extra cote carefully, placing it with the other garments she meant to take with her.

      “Well, perhaps some good will come of this.” Eleanor was grim. “You will see your father again—and he might recall the fact of your existence!”

      The stabbing of hurt was dull, like the taped tip of a knife’s blade. Carefully, she said, “If Duncan had not summoned me, I would not be going.”

      “Do not play me, my girl. We both know you would be pleased to see your father again—and it would please me if he finally made good on his promise to see you wed properly.”

      “He cannot change how the world sees me.” She smiled, not wanting to reveal that she did care about the opinion everyone held of her, a great deal.

      “Of course he could—he is the great Sir Alexander, the earl’s closest brother!”

      Alana was suddenly overcome. “What would I do without you?”

      Eleanor walked to the open chest and began removing garments from it. They were her clothes. “I am an old woman, Alana, and one day, you will have to get on without me. Which is why I wish for you to have a good husband at your side.” She now removed a burlap sack from the chest, and began packing it. “I am going to Nairn with you.”

      Alana was surprised. “Gran,” she began, instinctively protesting. Eleanor was agile and spry, and Nairn was but a half day’s horseback ride from Brodie. Still, the woman could hardly ride—they would need a wagon or a litter. And the journey would be in the midst of winter, with snow threatening to fall. She should not come.

      “Do СКАЧАТЬ