Chapter Three
As the small cavalcade slowly ascended the hill, kinsmen came out from their croft houses, waving as they passed. Some gathered up their younglings and followed to the house.
From below, the single tower overlooking the cliff had given Chreagach Mhor a sense of imperiousness. High atop the hillock, the manor house seemed a far humbler abode. The tower, taller than the house itself, was fashioned of gabled stone, but the attached house looked more like the dry stone cottages they’d encountered on the way up, only covered with brambles—as though the Goddess herself had cast a net from the earth to protect them. Tangled and taut, thick vines climbed about, with thick stems that gave it a sense of age.
Someone shouted huzzahs, and within moments, the occupants of the manor filed into the courtyard, and realizing this was the moment of truth, Elspeth’s belly fluttered, but this time, not because of the babe. Had they heard the tales of their encounter with Morwen at Aldergh? Would they think her blasphemous? Did they fear witches? It gave her hope that Iain had already embraced her.
Malcom slid down from his mount, and with his help, Elspeth dismounted as well. But no sooner was she down when Malcom had a tap on the shoulder, and he turned about.
“Mother!” he exclaimed, releasing Elspeth and lunging forward to embrace the chestnut haired woman, enveloping her in his burly arms. He lifted her high, then kissed her soundly on the forehead.
“Malcom!” she exclaimed, when he put her down again, and she reached a hand to caress his brow, brushing the hair from Malcom’s face, her smile radiant and her touch every bit as reverent as it should be.
“Where’s Da?”
“Gone to Piers to purchase salt. Somehow ours has gone missing.”
“It wasn’t me,” Malcom said, with a devious grin, and then he turned to Elspeth, retrieving her trembling hand. He explained, “Precious as it was, I used to put my finger in the jar and lick the granules one by one.”
Elspeth giggled. “I would have done the same.”
If ever they’d had salt. It wasn’t an ingredient old Ersinius would have shared, and neither would they have wasted such a precious condiment on mere children—not even royal ones.
Easing Elspeth’s worries a bit, Page couldn’t have been more welcoming. Precisely as she had with Malcom, she reached out to put her arms about Elspeth, though Elspeth’s belly prevented a close embrace. “Oh, my dear,” she said, grinning. “You look ready to burst!”
Elspeth laughed softly. “I merely look it,” she assured the elder woman. “If my calculations are correct, I am a good two months away. If not, perhaps a few weeks more.”
Page shook her head. “Oh, I do wish you’d stay long enough to deliver. What joy it would bring our house.”
Elspeth’s gaze lifted to Malcom’s, wondering if he might agree.
“We’ll consider it,” he said. “Times are grave.”
“I ken,” said Page. “I ken.” And her smile remained brilliant, despite her son’s rebuttal. “Well,” she said, taking Elspeth by the hand. “My dear, at least you do not look like a mess of haggis. I certainly did.” She leaned close to say, “With my daughter Liana, I was swollen for months. My ankles were as large as trunks.”
There was a sudden squeal behind her as Cora woke and leapt from the wagon, rushing to join them. Elspeth only wished she had the means to capture Page’s expression for posterity. As though her smile were not bright enough already, her face lit, and she let go of Elspeth’s hands, rushing to embrace Cora. The two women locked themselves together and swayed side to side, laughing like young ladies. “Cora! Cora! Cora! Is it you?”
“Tis me, sweet Lady,” Cora said, reaching up to put thick hands to Page’s face, the familiarity of the act hardly lost to Elspeth. And then came another loud squeal and a younger woman came rushing out to embrace Malcom. Elspeth might have been jealous, because she was beauteous, but she assumed this must be Liana, her face was so much like her mother’s.
After a moment, when Malcom was through extricating himself, he introduced his sister to Elspeth.
“Hello,” said Elspeth, surprised by the woman’s age, though she shouldn’t have been. Malcom was thirty now; it only stood to reason that Liana would be closer to Elspeth’s age. It was only that he’d never, ever spoken of her as aught but a child.
“Hello,” said Liana, arms wide. “Welcome, sister.”
The two awkwardly embraced, and then, for some reason, very suddenly, both Liana and Elspeth began to giggle, and Malcom said, grinning, “Well, now, I should leave you ladies to your affairs and settle the wagons.”
His mother whirled on him. “No, Malcom, wait! I must introduce you to Alex—where is he?” she asked, her gaze darting about, until she spied him—tall for his age, and perhaps a bit lanky, but nevertheless had a young boy’s face. And he was scowling.
His mother waved him forward, and he shook his head, snarled, and turned away. Elspeth’s gaze sought her husband’s to catch his expression—surprise and sorrow.
“He’ll come about,” said Page, gripping her son by the arm. “Go, now, settle your wagons. We’ll show Elspeth your bower.”
His face a mask of regret, Malcom stood, looking after Alex, long after the boy quit the doorway.
“Go on,” his mother said, once again, pushing him gently. “I’ll speak to him,” she promised. “Do not worry, Malcom.” And her smile brightened. “Your father will be beside himself! We did not expect you until the morrow.”
And still Malcom stood, ogling the empty doorway, his lips twisting ruefully, and sensing his disappointment, Elspeth went to him, nestling her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers gently, and shook off the mood, turning to kiss her on the lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Dinna go tellin’ my minny all those terrible things I say and do.”
Elspeth laughed, lifting her chin. “Of course, I will,” she jested, and blew him a kiss, waving him away.
For a moment, she watched him go, seizing the reins of her palfrey and his own horse to lead them to the stables, and then she met Page’s gaze. Of course, Page would understand. The two women shared a knowing glance, and then she and Page, with Liana and Cora, all moved into the house, Cora gushing, and Liana still giggling—until, Elspeth tripped and said, “Ouch!”
She lifted her foot to find a small trickle of red at the tip of her slipper, and everyone who saw it frowned. At once, Liana dove into the rushes and rose with a small crude knife in her hand. She sought her mother’s gaze, and the two women frowned.
Elspeth was quick to reassure them. “It was only a prick,” she said. “I am fine.” And no matter, once she was alone in her room, she’d apply herself to its healing. No harm was done.