Chapter Twenty-Eight
Domnall rapped once as a courtesy before unlocking the prince’s door. Malcolm was seated by the window with a puzzled look. “There is much smoke outside the castle walls. Was there a fire?”
Domnall followed his line of vision to the only remnants of last night’s battle—thick, gray smoky spirals that continued to foul the air. “Yer sleep was nae disturbed last eve?” Domnall inquired with surprise.
The prince shook his head. “I was given a sleeping draught.” He frowned. “But I had particularly vivid dreams. I imagined the castle was under siege.”
“’Twas nae dream,” Domnall said. “There was, indeed, an attack.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Who was it? Did the king send his army to rescue me?”
“’Twas a small force if they intended rescue,” Domnall said.
“How many?”
“’Twas nae more than twenty men,” Domnall answered.
The prince looked puzzled. “Why didn’t the king send his entire army?”
“Because the king dinna send these men,” Domnall answered. “They came by order of Eachann of Mearns. Given his history, we dinna ken for certain if their purpose was a rescue or an assassination.”
“Assassination?” The prince paled. “You think they came to kill me?”
“Mayhap,” Domnall answered with a shrug. There was no harm in planting seeds of doubt. He needed to create a wedge between the prince and the Earl of Mearns if their plan had any hope of success.
“Why would you think it?” the prince asked.
“Because Brother Alexander recognized one of them as a man who we believe worked for the Earl of Mearns. We also suspect ’twas he who led the attack on ye at the River Beauly. Since they didna succeed in killing ye there, mayhap ’twas another attempt.”
“If ’tis true, we must obtain a confession from him!” the prince declared. “He must answer to the king for his treachery!”
“He canna offer up a confession, Highness. He was slain in the attack last eve.”
“What of the other men?” the prince asked.
“Two escaped us. The rest are dead.”
“My first siege and I slept through it all?” the prince remarked with a look of dismay.
“There will surely be others, Highness,” Domnall replied. “But I, for one, wish no repeat of last night.” He paused. “The king believes ’twas me who attacked ye which endangers all of my family.”
“And he will ne’er negotiate as long as you are an outlaw,” Malcolm said. “Unless you go to him on bended knee—”
“I will ne’er do it!” Domnall said. “I committed nae crime. ’Twas an act of self-defense.”
“Then an outlaw you shall remain,” Malcolm said.
“But my kinsman who is imprisoned committed nae crime,” Domnall argued.
“MacAedh refuses to swear allegiance,” Malcolm replied. “Disobedience to the king is, indeed, a crime.”
Domnall snorted. “Then half the kingdom should be imprisoned.”
“What do you intend to do with me?” Malcolm suddenly asked.
“I came to ye this morn with the hope of striking a bargain. ’Tis my hope of proving my innocence by setting ye free.”
The prince regarded him dubiously. “You will release me? With no exchange?”
“My offer is nae unconditional,” Domnall said. “I would free ye with yer promise that my kinsman will be allowed to live—just as ye have been allowed to live under our care. I ask ye, Highness, do ye believe that I or any of my kinsmen intended ye harm?”
The prince looked thoughtful. “I suppose I have not been mistreated.”
“If we desired ye harm, would we have fed ye, housed ye in our own rooms, and treated yer wounds?”
“You would be punished if you did otherwise,” the prince argued.
Domnall took another tack. Only reason could overcome the prince’s confused emotions. “My uncle is locked in a cell, fed only gruel, and chained hand and foot. Yet we dinna punish ye for it.”
“Nae,” the prince admitted.
“I willna negotiate with the king,” Domnall said, “But I will deal with the one who soon will become king. I will free ye, if ye give yer solemn vow to free MacAedh.”
“I cannot do it!” Malcolm replied. “I have neither the authority, nor the will to defy my grandfather.”
“I dinna ask ye to act in any way against the king’s wishes while he lives, but I do ask for yer word that ye will free my kinsman upon the king’s death.”
Malcolm studied Domnall with sober gray eyes. “And you will free me if I agree to this?”
“Aye. Ye will depart this day with Brother Alexander.”
The prince still looked wary. “No tricks?”
“Have I e’er deceived ye?” Domnall asked.
“Nae, but I still canna trust you,” Malcolm said.
“Do ye trust Brother Alexander?” he asked.
“Aye. He saved my life.”
“Would ye accept Alexander’s vow that he will return ye safely to the king?”
“I would,” Malcolm said.
“Then it only remains for ye to give me yer own vow to free MacAedh.”
“Pray give me an hour to think on this,” the prince answered.
“As ye wish, Highness,” Domnall said with a bow. “I will send Brother Alexander to ye in an hour.”
*
Domnall left the prince with the hope that he’d convinced the lad of his innocence and that Malcolm would, indeed, agree to free MacAedh, but Alexander was the only one who had the prince’s trust. It seemed a great irony that the prince had more faith in the monk than Domnall ever had, at least before last night.
He still had many questions for the secretive monk, and it was well past time he got answers. He found Alexander in the great hall with the priest and Gillecolum. Their conversation abruptly ended the moment Domnall entered.
“How did ye fare with the prince?” Father Gregor asked.
“I dinna ken. He listened but then he asked for an hour to consider his response.”
“Ye canna fault the lad for suspicion,” the priest said.
“Nae, but a great deal depends on his cooperation,” Domnall said. “He asks for an hour to deliberate. In the meantime, I would have a private word with Alexander, if ye dinna mind.”
“Of course.” Alexander rose. “There is much to say.”
“Let us walk the ramparts,” Domnall suggested.
Still on alert after the events of the night before, they ascended the stone stairway. The firth was calm, stretching out for miles and blending seamlessly into the blue horizon. No breeze stirred and the hot August sun beat down on their heads. Seeking a shady corner, Domnall sat on a parapet, but kept his eyes on the sea, half-expecting a flotilla to appear. So much had happened in such a short time. He felt as if years had passed instead of mere weeks.
“I have many questions,” Domnall finally said.
“I understand,” Alexander said. “I willna hold back.”
“Good,” Domnall said. “Mayhap ye can begin with how ye kent of the hidden weaponry?”
Alexander nodded. “Do ye recall the day I challenged ye to the knife contest?”
Domnall remembered it well. It was shortly after Alexander had arrived at Kilmuir to tutor Domnall. He’d resented the monk from the start and had refused to attend lessons. Alexander had proposed a wager over knife throwing in hope of getting Domnall to cooperate.
“MacAedh saw my sgian-dubh that day and recognized the inscription on it,” Alexander said. “It matched that of a sacred sword. Yer uncle showed me the cache of weapons and told me about the sword, one of seven that are called Kingslayers. This particular blade once belonged to Mal Peder MacLeon, Mormaer of Mearns, the man who killed King Duncan.”
“King Duncan was my grandfaither!” Domnall exclaimed. He stifled another surge of resentment. “Why would ye, who have nae arms training whatsoever, be given this infamous sword?”
“Because it once belonged to my faither,” Alexander replied.
“He was a warrior?” Domnall asked, unable to hide his surprise. “My uncle, Angus, was killed at Stracathro. Was yer faither slain as well?”
“He was nae slain in battle but he was the reason for the great rebellion.”
“I dinna follow ye,” Domnall said. “The rebellion was to put a true Scot back on the Scottish throne.”
“My faither was Malcom Mac Alexander. He was the legitimate firstborn son of King Alexander of Scotland, and the rightful heir to the crown.”
Domnall was stunned. “Yer grandfaither was King Alexander?”
“Aye and my faither, as Alexander’s son, should have succeeded, but David had the backing of King Henry of England. The Highlanders fought for my faither. Yer Uncle Angus died for him, but he was ultimately betrayed by his brother-in-law, imprisoned by King David, and ne’er heard from again. The true reason I accompanied MacAedh to court was to try to discover what happened to my faither.”
“Did ye have any success?”
“I dinna learn what I’d hoped but I did encounter the man who betrayed my faither. Eachann of Mearns is now one of the king’s closest advisors.”
“Eachann of Mearns, the verra one who sent men to kill us, is yer uncle?”
“Aye,” Alexander replied, “but he doesna ken that I live. My máthair sent me to the monastery when I was only four to protect me from him. She promised to send for me when it was safe. But I ne’er saw her again. I finally gave up hope. For many years now, my only aspiration has been to become a scribe, yet, here I am now, embroiled in plots, murder, and intrigue.” He released a long sigh.
“Ye are indeed. Welcome to the family, Alexander,” Domnall added with a dry chuckle.
“Thank ye, Brother.” Alexander grinned back. “Do ye now understand why MacAedh trusted me with his own secrets?”
“Aye.” Domnall nodded. Everything that confused and angered Domnall was suddenly becoming clear.
“When MacAedh was imprisoned, I found myself in a unique position to help—until Sibylla showed up at Dunfermline and complicated everything.”
“That is typical of my sister,” Domnall remarked. “She is far too impulsive for her own good.”
“And I love her beyond words,” Alexander said. “I will take her away from Dunfermline as soon as it is safe to do so.”
“How?” Domnall asked.
Alexander sighed. “I dinna yet ken. But we have an ally at the palace, a nun who brought word of Eachann’s plan to Faither Gregor. She has befriended Sibylla. Mayhap she can help.”
“A nun?” Domnall frowned. He didn’t recall a convent at Dunfermline.
“Faither Gregor said she came to Dunfermline with Princess Adaline.”
Domnall’s breath seized in his chest. “Do ye ken her name?”
“She introduced herself as Sister Mary Malachy…”
Domnall’s chest deflated in disappointment.
“But she said ye would ken her as Davina of Crailing.”
*
Hours later, Domnall stood by the seagate as Alexander and Prince Malcolm prepared to set sail for Inverkeithing. Davina was once more heavy on his mind. Alexander’s mention of her had awakened all of his suppressed dreams and desires.
What would happen to her if Eachann discovered her duplicity? He hated that she’d endangered herself to help him, but her warning had saved their lives. Would she come if he asked her to? But should he ask?
He ached to see her, but nothing had changed. At least not for the better. He was still a penniless outlaw with nothing to offer her. Perhaps it was even worse than before, for now they had lost their rights to Kilmuir the day MacAedh was imprisoned. They just hadn’t been evicted yet. In all likelihood, the king would send his men to seize the castle. Which meant he could give Davina no home, no security.
He watched them until the flapping sail disappeared from view. With fair winds, they would arrive in about four days. He should have gone with them. He should have gone to her. But he finally had an advantage. He’d secured Malcolm’s promise to release MacAedh. If Domnall were now to be discovered at Dunfermline, it would all be for naught. Although his heart yearned for one thing, his brain demanded self-discipline. His entire family’s existence depended on his actions.
Still lost in his morose thoughts, he turned away and climbed the embankment leading back to the keep. Gillecolum met him halfway.
“What will ye do now?” Gillecolum asked. “Surely ’tis nae safe to stay here.”
“Nae,” Domnall agreed. “We must leave. Faither Gregor has offered us a place at the monastery in Portmahomack. I will send the women and children there for the nonce, but it will only be until I find another place for us.”
“If ye wish to travel west, I am certain Somerled would give ye safe harbor on one of the more remote islands,” Gillecolum suggested.
“Thank ye,” Domnall said. “But ’tis too far away. To leave Moray would mean ne’er recovering our lands. I must maintain a presence close by, near enough nae to be forgotten, but still out of reach of the king’s men.”
“So ye intend to raise an army?”
“Aye,” Domnall said. “I will nae act until the king is dead. But once David is gone, I will make one last attempt to negotiate with Malcolm. If he or his regent does nae restore all of our lands I will fight for them.”
“’Twill nae be easy,” Gillecolum said.
“I have time to prepare,” Domnall said. “The Highlands are nae unlike Kilmuir—much easier to defend than to attack.”
Yet, the thought of living as an outlawed rebel warlord weighed heavily on his spirit. The time was fast approaching to do what he had prepared himself for his entire life, but his heart felt strangely hollow. Something elemental to his very being was missing.
Davina.
Even if he were to gain everything he desired, it would all mean nothing without her.