Chapter Twenty
The Messenger hugged the southern coast of England. Rose gripped the rails as she gazed upon the grassy slopes and rocky cliffs. In that moment, a shiver coursed up her spine. For everyone on board, this was a homecoming. But, she was entering the enemy’s den. She thought of her brothers—of Jack who stole into an English fortress, risking it all for the woman he loved; and of Quinn who stood his ground against English knights and blood-thirsty dogs to protect his Catarina, an English lady falsely accused of murder; and of Rory who emptied King Edward’s coffers with Scottish lady and rebel, Alexandria MacKenzie, at his side; and of Alec whose gift of sight helped recover the Stone of destiny; and of Ian, who at that moment, was out there somewhere, risking his very life for the sake of Scottish independence.
Her courageous brothers were Scottish Outlaws and heroes. Did she possess the same courage? She gripped the rail tighter. The same blood flowed through her veins. She glanced at Tristan who stood nearby talking to Philip. She drew a deep breath.
“Are ye nervous?” she asked him.
He looked down at her with calm, confident eyes. “Not at all. Right is on our side. My father is a good man who made a mistake but not one worthy of ruination. And despite her flaws, the daughter of Roxwell should not have to marry a man who cannot love her, nor should I be forced to bind myself to a family who treats their people like cattle. No, Rose. I do not doubt for a moment that our cause is just.”
“Captain,” Philip said, drawing their attention. “We are preparing to enter the Thames.”
Tristan cupped his mouth and called to Piper and Jacob who manned the steering oar, “Angle the oar deeper.” Slowly the Messenger started to turn.
“How long until we reach London?” she asked as she gazed out at fields of flax and small huts, dotting the Thames.
“The city grows and spreads with every passing year. Just up around the bend, you will begin to see a few settlements, but it won’t be long until we reach the city proper.”
They passed a lovely kirk that reminded her of the one church on Colonsay. Farther down the river, she spied several women plodding toward shore, carrying baskets teeming with laundry. Just then, a sudden, boisterous string of chatter coming from the main deck forced her gaze away from the shoreline. The crew called out to each other about their families, who waited for their return:
“My Anna will give me a big kiss.”
“My boy turned ten this year. I’d wager he’s as tall as me.”
“My mum is sure to cry the moment I open the door.”
“I cannot wait to see my Cora.” She smiled at Davy who coiled line at a frantic pace, his excitement bursting through his fingers.
The enthusiasm of the crew emboldened her spirit. She looked again at the passing shoreline. “What is that?” she asked Tristan, spotting a tall, narrow, stone building in the distance.
“The Tower of London,” he said.
Her eyes widened. She knew that place. She shivered thinking of the many Scotsmen and women who had died within its circular walls. As they passed by, she made the sign of the cross.
“Look at me, Rose,” Tristan said.
She did as he bade her.
“You are safe on these shores, I promise you.” He pressed a kiss to her brow before turning his eyes forward. “Wide barge, portside,” he called to Jacob and Henry. Rose watched in awe as the Messenger skillfully navigated through the increasingly busy port waters of London.
Tristan pointed to docks. “There’s Billingsgate Wharf. This is our London. It belongs to the merchants and other guilds, where a man is judged by what he makes with his hands, not who is father is.”
Like her brothers, Tristan was everything good and noble and strong and so was she. Rose straightened her spine and thrust her shoulders back. Silencing the voice of doubt in her mind, she relaxed and drank in the sights. After a short distance, larger homes began to shape the cityscape, and soon great fortresses appeared.
“Do you see that fortress there with the yellow flags,” Tristan asked.
She looked to where he pointed and nodded.
He lowered his hand. “That is my family’s home.”
Her stomach dropped. Her eyes widened. “Surely, ye jest!”
“No,” he answered simply.
Her heart started to pound. Just when she had chased away her fear, the intimidating reality of Tristan’s fortune mocked her from atop a hill. “Are ye sure ye’re not already a lord?”
Tristan smiled slightly but shook his head. “My family is wealthier than many nobles, but the difference is that our wealth has been earned.”
Rose could not tear her eyes away from the imposing stone fortress. She swallowed hard.
“You are turning green,” Philip said, quietly at her side.
She grabbed the quarter master’s arm and pulled him aside. “I cannot do this. I have lived my life in huts. I sleep on a pallet. I’ve never been inside a castle. I simply won’t know what to do or say.” She gripped his arm tighter. “Philip, this is all yer idea. Ye must help me.”
He smiled at her calmly. “You will be the most beautiful and worthy woman ever to grace the halls of Birch Heights.”
Her eyes widened further. “His home has a name?”
“It is named so because of the white stone that fills the courtyard,” he explained. “Anyway, a castle and a hut are not so very different. They are places where lives unfold.”
“This isn’t funny,” she cried.
He put out a placating hand. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” He gently clasped her hands in his. “Listen to me, Rose. When you enter the home of Owen Thatcher, you will be judged on your merit, not the humbleness of your birth.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true. Tristan’s father wanted him to marry a noblewoman.”
“A notion that runs contrary to everything Owen Thatcher believes,” he insisted. “His senses will return when he meets you, and he will know that his son has married the woman God intended for him.”
She grabbed his arm. “But that’s just it,” she hissed. “We’re not married, remember?”
He shrugged. “A technicality—nothing more. We didn’t find you on the ocean by accident. If I hadn’t believed in the Divine already, pulling you from the sea would have converted my thinking.”
She threw her hands up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “You will see, my dear.” Then he turned on his heel and headed down to the lower deck.