Prologue
1335 A.D.
Braelaw Manor
Stronghold of Clan Menzies near Collieston, Scotland
It was a wind-swept day along the sea as the gulls cried overhead, riding the drafts. A storm was blowing in from the east and the vast and dark sea churned the waves until they shattered on the shore like broken glass.
Braelaw Manor was situated near the sea. The sounds of the smashing waves blowing across the sandstone walls created enough concern that the inhabitants were quickly putting things away, like animals and people and stores. Those who lived at Braelaw knew the sounds and smells of an approaching tempest and it was important to make sure everything was secured before the rain let loose.
“Jack! Lizelle!”
The children playing in the gray-colored sea grass outside of the open walls could hear their names being called. But it was fresh and cold out here, with the smell of the salt and the thrill of the oncoming storm. Jack had been distracted from his work when Lizelle, being the laird’s daughter, had lured him out into the fields beyond, teasing him and chasing him as nine-year-old girls could do. Jack, at the grown-up age of twelve, was caught in that transition between manhood and boyhood, wanting to play but knowing he was too old for it. Lizelle was quite pretty and vivacious, and that stirred his young blood.
“Jack!”
Jackston Forbes heard his father’s shout again and he knew he had to respond to it or he would be in for a painful lesson in why he should never ignore his father. As Lizelle ran circles around him, stopping only to drop flower petals on his auburn head, he finally turned for the manse.
“Jack!” Lizelle screamed, running up behind him. “Ye canna leave me! I’m a damsel about tae be swept out tae sea by a great sea monster!”
Jackston turned to look at her even as he continued to walk away. “I dunna see a sea monster.”
Lizelle threw up her hands, spinning a circle and nearly falling over as she lost her balance. “Ye canna see him!” she declared. “He’s magic!”
Jackston shook his head. “If I stop tae save ye, then someone will have tae save me from me da,” he said. “He’s a-callin’ me.”
Lizelle wouldn’t be discouraged. Even as the wind picked up and began to seriously whip around them, scattering Lizelle’s long blonde hair all about, she ran in front of Jackston to block his path.
“Ye canna go.”
“I have tae go.”
Lizelle put her hands on his chest, stopping his forward momentum. “Nay,” she said, bossy. “Not until ye save me from the beast!”
Jackston knew he was going to be in trouble if he didn’t make an appearance to his father very quickly. “I canna do it,” he said, trying to move around her. “Let me pass.”
Lizelle wouldn’t. She refused. “Not until ye give me yer solemn oath.”
“What oath?”
“That ye’ll never save another lass from a monster, ever!”
“I promise.”
“And that ye’ll be true tae me always!”
Jackston liked Lizelle; he always had. She was full of life and lovely, if not spoiled and petty. But he found those traits humorous at times. Their families didn’t live far from one another and his father did business with Lizelle’s father with crossing stock of sheep and cattle.
Therefore, Jackston came to Braelaw about once every month or two with his father. And he and Lizelle always set off on some kind of adventure. Today it was sea monsters; last month, she was trapped in a castle – although it was really a rock – and he was forced to battle a black knight in order to save her. Lizelle liked to be saved and saved often.
Truth be told, Jackston didn’t mind. It made him feel rather dashing and daring, the faith she put in him. Therefore, when she asked for his vow, he gave it without hesitation.
“I promise, I’ll always be true tae ye.”
Lizelle flashed him a bright smile. “When we are older, ye will marry me, do ye hear? Ye canna marry another if ye’ve pledged tae be true tae me.”
He shrugged. “As ye say.”
Lizelle rushed up to stand in front of him, turning her head to show him her cheek. “Ye may kiss me, Jack.”
Liking a lass was one thing. Kissing her was something completely different. “I willna do it,” he said flatly, moving around her and moving quickly for the manse. “Come along now if ye dunna want tae feel a hand tae yer backside!”
He began to run and she followed, screaming his name all the way. He dashed inside the open front gates of the manse only to run headlong into his father, who was speaking to Lizelle’s father. Jackston bashed into his father, Alexander, as Lizelle, running too fast to stop, crashed into the back of him.
“Here, now!” Alexander Forbes said. “What is the meanin’ of this?”
Lizelle grabbed Jackston’s hand and ran straight to her father, nearly yanking Jackston’s arm out of his socket.
“Papa!” Lizelle cried. “Jackston has sworn tae be true tae me and he must marry me when we grow older! Tell him he must!”
Mortified, Jackston looked at Robert Menzies only to see the man gazing at his daughter with a rather confused expression.
“Marriage?” Robert repeated with some astonishment. “Ye’re a bit young tae be speakin’ of such things, lass.”
Lizelle shook her head firmly. “He promised tae be true tae me,” she insisted, looking at Jackston. “Dinna ye?”
Jackston was truly horrified and his freckled face turned as red as scarlet rose. “I… well, ye asked me tae be true and I… I said I would.”
Robert could see how embarrassed the lad was. He grinned. “I willna hold ye tae a promise now, Jackston Forbes.”
Lizelle’s face fell. “But… but I want him tae marry me! He must, he must!”
She was becoming hysterical and Robert put his hands up to quiet her. “In time, lass. Ye’re barely….”
“Papa, please!”
It was usually easier to give in to Lizelle than argue with her. Robert rolled his eyes as he looked at Jackston. “Come back in ten or fifteen years or she’ll never shut her yap,” he said impatiently. “But nothin’ would give me more pleasure than tae have a Forbes for Lizelle. Ye’re a fine lad.”
Jackston had no idea what to say. The entire conversation baffled him. Alexander sensed his son’s confusion and he came up behind the boy, putting a big hand on his son’s skinny shoulder.
“He is a fine lad,” Alexander said quietly. “And Lizelle is a fine lass. Mayhap we’ll speak of a betrothal someday, but not today. I must get home before the storm hits.”
Lizelle would not be refused. She tugged on her father’s arm. “Make him say so, Papa! Make him say that Jackston will marry me!”
Robert cast an unhappy glance at his very spoiled daughter, his only child. She would inherit quite a fortune someday so he was very careful with any kind of marital commitment, as a man’s word would be binding. It was even dangerous with what little he’d said so far if Alexander Forbes wanted to pursue it. And Alexander, as Lord Daviot, would be looking for a good marriage for his son, who would inherit the lordship someday.
Aye, they were on dangerous ground.
“Enough, Lizzie,” Robert shushed her. “Go inside now.”
“But –!”
“I’ll not discuss this with ye now, ye silly lass. Go inside.”
Lizelle wasn’t particularly apt to obey her father even in the best of times. She looked right at Jackston, her lower lip trembling as the tears began to come.
“Ye said ye’d be true tae me,” she said. “Did ye not mean it, then?”
Like most men, Jackston, even at his young age, couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. Tears from a lass frightened him.
“I meant it,” he assured her.
“Then ye’ll marry me and no other?”
He hesitated and she burst into tears. “Aye, I will!’ Jackston said simply to stop her outburst.
Lizelle’s tears stopped unnaturally fast and she smiled triumphantly. “I knew ye would!” she gloated. She took off for the manse, her arms in the air in victory. “Jackston will marry me! He will!”
The three men watched her run off. Robert turned to Alexander apologetically. “She’ll forget about it in a week,” he said. “Dunna worry.”
Alexander had to admit he was worried. Jackston had committed to something he should not have, but in his grasp, Jackston seemed quite calm about it.
“I suppose me da will have me marry when I get old,” he said. “But I dunna want tae marry too soon. There are things I must do.”
Robert was amused. “Like what?”
Jackston was a dreamer. He was also a lad of honor, of talent, and of great ambition. He had a purpose in life; he just didn’t know what it was yet.
“I want tae travel,” he said. “I want tae go tae England and learn the ways of the Sassenach knights. And then I want tae go tae Paris where the streets are made of marble, and I canna do that if I have a wife. She willna let me go.”
Robert laughed softly, putting a hand on Jackston’s head. “Wise lad,” he said. “If ye find that ye still want tae marry Lizelle when ye return from all of the travelin’ ye must do, then come and see me.”
“Will ye make her wait for me, then?”
“If she has a mind tae.”
That was good enough for Jackston. As he and his father went to gather their horses so they could return to their home of Blackbog Castle, about four miles to the west of Braelaw, Jackston couldn’t help but think of the promise he’d made to Lizelle. He supposed she was as good as the next lass as far as a wife went. He would travel, he would learn things, and then he’d come home to her and make her marry him. She could give him sons and cook his meals, although something told him that Lizelle wouldn’t be very good at cooking his meals. She might not even be very good at giving him sons, but without any other prospects, he was willing to take the chance.
After all… what more was there to a marriage that bearing children and making meals?
What else were women good for?
As Jackston pondered the role of a woman in his life, his horse was creating something of a distraction. He was a rather snippy pony who didn’t like to be ridden at times. As Jackston and his father headed from the stables of Braelaw with the wide-open gates of the manse looming before them, Jackston’s pony did a strange little dance and bolted as the wind whipped around him.
Jackston struggled to contain him, but to no avail. The pony ended up ramming into a group of people near the gate, including a little girl who was knocked down by the naughty animal. Chagrinned, Jackston leapt off the pony and pushed the beast back towards his father as a few hands were reaching down to pick up the child.
“Are ye hurt?” he asked the child anxiously. “I’m sorry about me pony. His name is Buckles. The wind frightens him sometimes.”
The little girl, no more than five or six years of age, was trying to be brave. She was wiping her eyes furiously with the back of her hand while at the same time trying to get a look at her scraped elbow.
“I’m not hurt,” she said.
Jackston could see the bloodied elbow and he felt very bad, indeed. But before he could say anything, the man that had pulled the little girl to her feet suddenly snatched her hand and yanked her away, heading off into the yard of the manse.
As the child was being pulled away, her gaze met with Jackston’s and, for a moment, Jackston felt an odd sort of buzzing in his head. It was very strange. The child was a pretty little thing with big hazel eyes and an angelic little face. But she looked so sad, so incredibly sad, and that was perhaps why Jackston felt the buzzing in his head. As if he could feel the sorrow radiating from the child.
Perhaps it was the fact that his pony had hurt the girl. Or perhaps it was because the mean man had yanked her away. Or it was, perhaps, because Jackston always felt emotion far more than he should. For whatever reason, those hazel eyes stayed with Jackston as he and his father left the gates of Braelaw to make the trek back home before the storm set in with earnest.
As young as he was, Jackston was a lad with a heart. He was sensitive to people and emotions. It was something his father hated in him. Jackston tried to keep his emotions hidden away as his father did but, sometimes, he simply couldn’t help it. Things like sorrow and anger affected him deeply. But those very feelings, the deep and emotional side of his soul, were things his mother encouraged.
Dunna be afraid tae feel things, Jackie, she would say. Ye have an old soul. It tells ye things that others canna see.
Conflicting instructions from his parents, something that kept him awake at night. He wanted to please them. Perhaps that was true what his mother said, that he had an old soul, but Jackston happy wasn’t with it sometimes. It got him in trouble, like it did today when Lizelle cried and coerced him into saying he’d marry her. Well, he had to marry, anyway. But not before he was good and ready.
He just wasn’t quite sure when that would be.