THE QUEST IS ANNOUNCED
The bedchamber was dark except for the ruddy glow of firelight that spilled from the hearth and onto the wool hearth rug lying in front.
Alf sat down on the bed and tried to still the worry that coursed through his veins like ice. He closed his eyes, striving to relax. He couldn't, and he stood again, pacing the length of the room.
The room itself was a pleasure – after hiding in the cellar at Dunkeld for a few days, it was a relief to be in such clean and inviting circumstances. However, he couldn't relax. The worry ate at him.
I cannot let Ambeal face him alone.
He knew she had asked him not to interfere, and he understood it made sense not to – she knew her father better than he ever could, after all. Nevertheless, the thought that he might harm her, even inadvertently, was too much for him.
“I'm going downstairs.”
Decisively, he lifted his cloak from where he had discarded it on the clothes chest by the door and hurried out.
The great hall must be down there.
One advantage of the fact that most castles were built along similar lines was that it was fairly easy to guess where anything was at any time. Alf headed for where he expected the main stairway to be and found that he was right. Then he headed lightly down the steps, relying on his feet to find the way in the near darkness.
In the downstairs hallway, he headed straight, walking down a shallow flight of steps. Then he waited.
I can't just walk in.
Just appearing in the great hall as her father and Ambeal discussed her absence was asking to interrupt whatever plans Ambeal made. He didn't know how much she was planning to tell him in one sitting, even if his own presence in the castle was meant to be announced now. He heard footsteps in the hallway just above the flight of stairs. Probably a guard, he thought. He hid in the shadows by the door.
There, he could just hear voices. If he listened carefully, he could hear what was being said.
“No,” someone said angrily. “We cannot just do that.”
“Father, I am not requesting your permission in this matter,” Ambeal's voice, clear and hard. “I am merely informing you of an event that already happened.”
Alf whistled through his teeth, impressed by the power of her words. Lady Ambeal was not a lady to be trifled with. All the same, he didn't wish her to put herself in jeopardy.
Her father is a dangerous man.
Dangerous and unpredictable. He tensed, waiting for his response. After a long silence, it came.
“I do not believe you.”
He heard Ambeal draw in a breath. “I have proof,” she said. “See? Here, where I wear his ring.”
Alf could not see – the door was open a chink, which made it possible for the words to carry through to him here on the outside – but it was too small a gap for visibility. He imagined Ambeal crossing the room, holding up her hand to show her father where she wore the clan ring of McNeil, a beautiful thing worked in delicate gold filigree.
He gasped as he heard the sound of a slap.
“You vixen,” her father shouted. That was too much for Alf.
“Stay your hand!” he shouted, striding into the hall. His boots rang out in the hollow space. Ambeal was standing on the dais before her father, her cheek red from a blow, a white-skinned hand pressed to it to stop the ache. Her eyes were wide and damp but she did not cry.
“What is the meaning of this?” A loud voice rang out. Alf directed his vision to where a white-haired man sat on a high-backed seat, his bulky muscle filling the chair along with the vast, swathing fur cape he wore. With a strong, blunt face, long gray hair and beard and heavy-lidded eyes, the man was a formidable-looking warrior.
“I am Alf McNeil, married to Ambeal.” he said quietly. “I come to offer my sword and allegiance.”
Ambeal looked at him, eyes widening in surprise. He nodded fractionally to her and she stepped back, letting him kneel before her father.
Alf knelt and waited while the old man evidently came to some decision. At last, he cleared his throat.
“McNeil.”
“Yes,” Alf said. He was still on his knees before the man, head forward, eyes on the ground. He wasn't sure if he should take that as a command to rise so he stayed where he was, but looked upward.
The man on the seat looked back into his eyes levelly. Alf held his gaze, seeing in that angry stare some of the authority that Ambeal too held in her slender, elegant body. He coughed, nervous.
“Sir,” he said.
The older man chuckled. It was a harsh sound, not welcoming. Alf tensed.
“And what,” the man said slowly, “am I supposed to do with a McNeil? Eh? When I wanted a MacConnoway for my daughter, in honor of the agreement between our houses?”
Alf coughed. He heard Ambeal draw breath to speak and held back a moment, trusting her words.
“Alf is a cousin of the thane's heir,” she said levelly. “He is not unconnected. And the thane himself is in our debt, for aiding his son.”
“He is, that so?” he chuckled. Again, it was not a comforting sound.
“He is,” Alf confirmed. The thane's heir was his cousin, Brodgar, and closest friend. He had assisted him by agreeing to wed Ambeal in his place, a decision that was easily the easiest he'd made in his life. He adored her.
“I didn't ask you,” the thane of Bronley rasped. Alf tensed.
“Father,” Ambeal said cautiously. Her father grunted.
“Don't think to master me, daughter! I'm not your hunting hawk. I am the thane and I declare this union unlawful.” He glared at his daughter. “You were betrothed.”
“Lord Brodgar released her from that agreement,” Alf spoke up. “And the thane, Lord Broderick, his father. You have my word on it.”
“He did?” the man's face clouded. “Then how must I know he honors my proposition? Tell me that! Must I reinforce my borders?”
“No, Father.” Ambeal said it, tiredly. “There's no need...”
“He sent me in his stead. This is as binding as were Ambeal to have married Brodgar, the son of the house.” Alf regretted interrupting Ambeal, but the message had to be delivered. The treaty was honored by his presence here. They didn't wish for any feuding.
“Well, then,” her father grunted. “How must I accept what the thane so generously sends me?” he asked. “An inferior match for my daughter, not his own heir? Eh? Am I to see it as I do – an insult?”
“Father...” Ambeal said cautiously.
“Silence!” the thane roared. Alf stood up.
“Your daughter has been rebuked enough,” Alf said firmly. His voice was quiet, but even so, the thane sat straighter, blinking, as if the challenge was a new surprise.
“Who are you to say it?” he spat indignantly.
“I am one who loves Ambeal, and who knows she has been through many trials. If you would bring down your wrath on any, bring it down on me. I await judgment.”
The thane stared at him as if he had just burst into green flame. Then he chuckled.
“You make a fine dispute,” he said. “One that convinces me. Well, then. What can I say?”
As his eyes narrowed, studying Alf as though he were some curious oddity brought back from the woodlands by the woodsmen, Ambeal coughed quietly.
“Father,” she said. “Think carefully here. If you harm Alf, the wrath of Dunkeld will be...” she trailed off as he interrupted, roaring.
“Hold your peace! I fear none.”
“Father...” Ambeal hissed. However, he was no longer listening to her. He was studying Alf again. At length, he cleared his throat.
“Young man, I have a proposition. One that will convince me – or not – of my daughter's rash choice having a benefit.”
“Yes?” Alf asked. His heart was thudding in his chest but he strove to show no sign of his inner fear.
“I find myself in another border conflict,” he said heavily. “Why my neighbors make such difficulty for me I cannot imagine. Probably because I make difficulty for them, yes?” He sighed. “Never mind. What I wish you to do is to negotiate with them. Bring me word of a peace between me and mine enemies, and you may stay here as you wish. Fail, and I'll finish you.”
Alf nodded. He had a sense that the “finish” here was something truly final, not just a figurative way of saying he would ruin his reputation. He shuddered.
“Which enemy, my lord?” he asked.
“Father...” Ambeal whispered.
“The Duncraigh.”
When he said it, Ambeal went white.
“Father. No. You cannot...”
“I can, and I shall,” her father retorted thinly. “Just through this will I agree to this mess. If he dies, then you shall have no blame to confer on me.”
Ambeal looked as if she was staring into an inferno. Her eyes were wide and she blinked, surprise and horror mixing in the dark pools of her eyes.
“Ambeal,” Alf soothed. “I'm sure I...”
“No!” Ambeal said. Her voice was thin but strong. “I cannot agree to this plan. It is diabolical.”
Her father shrugged. “Well, we could dispense with the delay. I could just kill you myself,” he said to Alf. Alf felt his face drain of blood and he and Ambeal stared at the man in horror.
He laughed. “That shook you, didn't it?” He sighed. “Well, then. We are agreed?”
Alf looked at Ambeal, who inclined her head. Tears running down her cheeks, she nodded. Alf, who had thought to mayhap challenge the thane to a duel himself, let her speak instead. “Yes,” she said.
Alf sighed. “I agree, too.”
“Very well,” the thane chuckled. “I'll give you a week. No more. Now, go. Both of you. I'm weary of arguing. I still need to check the accounts...where is Roderic when you need him?”
Alf stepped off the dais and looked up at Ambeal, who was crying now, soundlessly, tears tracking mutely down her shining cheeks.
When he reached the bottom of the dais, he reached up to her, steadying her with a hand as she stepped carefully down the stairs. Then they were walking out to the hallway.
“I hate him,” Ambeal whispered harshly under her breath. “I hate him! How can we...”
“Hush,” Alf said gently. He looked down at her stricken face and held her gently in his arms. “It's all for the good. We'll endure it.”
Ambeal shook her head, but he felt that maybe she believed him. She leaned against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed.
“Oh, Alf,” she said, looking up at him. “I can't bear it.”
“We can,” he whispered into her hair as his lips found her soft, pale brow. “We can, dear.”
Ambeal leaned against him and he held her close, feeling his whole body melting as he felt her gentle curves press against him. She was his wife – fiery, wild and womanly – and he loved her with every fiber of his soul.
She sniffed. “We should talk,” she said, looking up at him. “I must tell you more about this task. You need to know several different things before you go there.”
“I know,” Alf whispered softly as he stroked her head. “I believe you. But first, we must eat.”
Ambeal gave a shaky laugh. “I had forgotten. We've not eaten all day.”
“No,” Alf said, wincing as his stomach tightened hard at the merest thought of nourishment. “We've not.”
Ambeal giggled, dashing the tears from her eyes. “I'm sure my maidservant could fetch some bannocks.”
“Mm,” Alf nodded. “Please. I'm famished.”
In the intermittent glow of the fire in the grate, the two sat in the turret room with a low table between them, a platter of bannocks and mulled small ale between them. Alf ate hungrily, relishing the warm, floury taste as the bannock melted on his lips.
“This is better,” Ambeal commented, her mouth full. “I feel less shaky now.”
“Good,” Alf agreed, swallowing. “Me, too.”
As they ate, they discussed the magnitude of the task her father laid on him. The task itself was simple: ride to the fort, a northern citadel called Inverglass, and negotiate with the thane there.
“The dangers are,” Ambeal said, swallowing a mouthful of food, “the nature of the thane. Warlike, embittered and unpredictable, he is a fearsome enemy.”
“He's as likely to cut my head off as negotiate, is he?” Alf asked, feeling anticipation run in his veins, well mixed with a dose of nervousness.
“I believe so,” Ambeal nodded swiftly. She wiped the crumbs from her lips and looked at him, those dark eyes drawing him to drowning in their darkness. He was tense, but the tension didn't stop him from wanting to lean forward and probe that dark red mouth with his tongue.
“Is there anything we can do?” he asked, shaking his head to rid himself of the rising longing in his body. He croaked the words and cleared his throat, embarrassed that his need of her was so obvious in his croaky voice.
She paused. “We can do little,” she said, oblivious of the lustful look he delivered from across the table, “but try and make the terms as appealing as possible.”
“What terms can we offer?” Alf asked. Already they were talking as equals, a state he would never have thought to question. Ambeal was anyone's equal, no matter who they were. Let alone mine.
“Well,” she paused, taking a sip and wiping those soft lips dry with the back of her hand. “We have troops stationed in a fort on our border, where it crosses across his. We could threaten him,” she suggested.
Alf chuckled. “We could. Is there anything we could offer – something that would be somehow advantageous for him?” he didn't like the thought of riding into dangerous enemy territory, waving threats around.
“Well,” Ambeal took a second sip and Alf felt his body strain with longing when he saw the way the hearth-light was glistening on her lips. “What we could do is offer him part of the upper moorlands.”
“Your father would approve?” Alf asked.
“My father doesn't need to know,” Ambeal said flatly. “We could agree he only gains that when the old thane dies.”
“You think he would be agreeable?” Alf asked swiftly. “I mean, if we make conditions...” he trailed off as she nodded.
“I think he would. He has long ambitions.” She reached for another bannock and broke a piece off, chewing thoughtfully. Replying, her brow creased with frowning. “His own lifetime does not put a curb on his ambition for his household.”
“Farsighted man,” Alf nodded. “Well, now we have a farsighted, clever, unscrupulous and dangerous enemy. I don't know if I like the sound of that much.”
Ambeal chuckled. “Oh, Alf.” Her face went serious again and she reached for his hand. “If aught happens to you,” she said, quiet but harshly, “I now promise that if aught happens to you, the thane of Inverglass will rue the day he harmed you.”
Her face was hard and cold. Her eyes implacable. Alf felt a shiver down his spine. He had no idea what Ambeal would do to bring her vengeance down on him, but he did not doubt it would be terrible and swift.
He took her hand. Her fingers were cold and tapered, so he held them tight. “Thank you, dear.”
She shook her head. “I mean it. I would kill for you, as you would for me.”
He smiled at her, his heart filled with a tenderness and love he would never have believed possible. “I believe it.”
“Good.”
They sat together for a while, both tired and drained, and too subdued for anything but a kiss. He leaned across and placed his lips, gently, against her own.
Then, head spinning with weariness, he went back to the door.
“We should rest,” he sighed. “Goodnight, my dear.”
“Goodnight.”
Downstairs, in the chamber that had been assigned to him, he disrobed quickly and then lay under the covers, drifting off before he realized how tired he was, into heavy sleep. The last thought that crossed his worn and troubled mind was thoughts of Ambeal. How he wanted her, how he loved her!