Shipboard Wedding
When Kyla first suggested privately to her father and Lily that the wedding ceremony be held aboard the Banamhara, they reacted with exuberant glee. It gave her courage to bring them with her when she approached Broderick with the idea.
Surprisingly, he was in favor, but she stopped him before he could hurry off to speak to the castle’s presbyter. “I ken ye’re more of an Episcopal persuasion here in the Lowlands, but…”
Her father interrupted her. “Dinna worry, lass, Isabel and I were joined by the Calvinist Presbyter on Harris, and God has blessed our union though there was no priest present. Mind ye, it took place in the church in Roghadal that was originally Catholic.”
Kyla recognized the truth of it, yet something deep inside pulled at her, perhaps rooted there by ancestral generations of the mother she’d never known. “So, would it be possible for the abbot to come, from Darling? Just to be there. As a token.”
Broderick frowned. “Septimus?”
The tone of his voice suggested he was offended. Kyla felt the flush rise in her face. “I ne’er met him, but I feel ’tis important the auld religion be part of our ceremony.”
To her relief, Broderick smiled. “I doot Septimus will appreciate being considered a token, but I’ll send a message asking him to come. In any case, I should inform him of Lochwood’s fate.” He proffered his arm. “My father was a devoted Catholic who was involved in many intrigues to bring back the auld faith. I’m more of a moderate persuasion. Now we’ll present the notion to our presbyter and hope he doesn’t fly into a rant about Papists.”
*
Two days later, the monk arrived in a rowboat an hour before the ceremony and was greeted with a degree of civility by the presbyter. The two stood on the banks of the Nith, poring over the king’s special license at length without exchanging a word. Unable to tolerate the suspense any longer, Broderick asked if all was in order.
Septimus mumbled that James was an Episcopalian monarch, but he’d allowed the monks of Darling Abbey to pursue their religion without persecution; in addition he had condemned witchcraft in his treatise entitled Daemonologie, so the license was acceptable.
Broderick didn’t see what witchcraft had to do with it and suspected Septimus merely wanted to show off his superior knowledge. Playing along, he nodded thoughtfully, as did the presbyter who had already given his approval when first shown the license.
The clerics then climbed over the side of the birlinn with as much dignity as one might expect given they both wore ankle length robes and clutched religious texts.
Broderick followed and took up his place between them at the prow of the Banamhara, feeling a little conspicuous clad in his best tunic, trews and plaid aboard a boat.
The Hebridean crew had spruced up the vessel and strung colorful pennants wherever they could. They’d also shaved their faces, and tied back long hair; he was glad to see Delft had made sure his own crew were presentable.
The falconer stood at the stern, next to Aiglon’s temporary perch. The hooded eagle was so still she looked like a carving. She wasn’t fond of the hood, but it was preferable to the din she would likely have made otherwise. Broderick couldn’t imagine not having her there for the most important event of his life. To his joy, Kyla had sanctioned having the bird at the ceremony with surprising ease.
The heavens had smiled upon the scene, bright sunshine and a clear sky replacing the rains of the previous day. The light breeze was balmy.
Everything was as it should be, yet uncertainty plagued Broderick. Kyla should have arrived by now. He’d seen very little of her for two days, though he didn’t begrudge time spent with her father.
What if she had changed her mind?
Had Darroch persuaded her that marrying a Lowlander wasn’t in her best interest? Surely the two men had gotten beyond that stumbling block?
The prospect of taking on the responsibility of Lily had been too much.
She’d…
The maelstrom of doubt ceased abruptly when he espied his bride striding jauntily through the meadow on her father’s arm. Lily held her hand. They’d dressed in the elaborate gowns given to them by the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. Several maidservants held up the skirts lest they touch the grass. Doreen followed, keeping a stern eye on the maids.
Feeling like the King of all Galloway, Broderick inhaled deeply and sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.
*
A thousand memories assailed Darroch MacKeegan as he climbed aboard the Banamhara. About to give away his only daughter, he wracked his brain for some meaningful parting words to utter before she became another man’s wife.
She was beginning a new life, far from all she’d ever known. But she’d faced challenges before, and always triumphed.
He reached to lift Lily aboard first. Kyla was taking on the responsibility of a raising this young lass who wasn’t her bairn, just as Isabel had willingly agreed to mother a motherless child. Lily Maxwell didn’t know how fortunate she was. He chuckled inwardly, foreseeing many an avid discussion about Elizabeth Melville and her ilk.
Nicolson assisted Doreen. Once on deck, she fussed over Lily’s skirts.
Darroch reached for Kyla, and lifted her aboard. “Ye’re light as a feather, lass,” he said.
She smiled weakly as Doreen turned her attention to righting the emerald-studded gown and the sheer veil.
Drat! That wasn’t what he’d planned to say.
Ye look like a queen.
Nay! Kyla had agreed to wear the gown, but didn’t want it widely known that it was the Danish queen’s cast-off.
Ye’re beautiful.
Of course she was beautiful with all that red hair, inherited from him…
He straightened his shoulders as their gazes met. “Ye’re marrying the right mon,” he whispered. “I love ye.”
The joy in her green eyes assured him he’d said the right thing. Isabel would be proud of him, and he mustn’t forget to tell his wife about the eagle perched in the stern of his birlinn who cawed her agreement and lifted her wings.