Page 58 of The Refuge

Chapter 11

Steinar’s stomach clenched with the rising tension roiling within him as they drew near to Dunfermline. Soon he would see the auburn-haired beauty. Anticipation warred with regret. He had found the woman he wanted and the prospect of losing her to Colbán clouded his thoughts. Steinar could only bring himself to give her up if Catrìona herself favored the match. But what if she did not? Would she defy the king should he command her to wed his captain? Could Steinar defy the king to whom he had given his oath?

He stared at the king’s back. Today, as always, Malcolm rode his white charger a little ahead of his guard, impatient to arrive at his destination, but unwilling to drive the weary men harder than they could bear.

The sky above was a clear blue for which Steinar was grateful as some of the men walked and the wounded rode in open carts that slowed the army’s pace. At Malcolm’s insistence, Duff traveled in the middle of the army in a cart watched over by the king’s physic. But even with the wounded among them, spirits were high to a man for the raid had been successful.

Next to Steinar rode the king’s captain on his dun-colored horse, a hint of a smile on the warrior’s face. Was it only the success of the raid he thought of, or did he know that the king favored his request for Catrìona’s hand?

The woman Steinar longed to see.

Colbán was a leader of men: his sword arm strong in battle, his loyalty to the king unquestioned and his voice like brass when issuing commands. And, unlike Steinar, he was a Gael. Mayhap he reminded Catrìona of her father, who had been one of Malcolm’s chiefs.

But it was Steinar’s kiss she had accepted. Unless there was more between Colbán and Catrìona than he knew. Now that Domnall was courting another, mayhap Catrìona had turned her attention to the king’s captain. Did she know of Colbán’s request for her hand? Steinar had been granted lands in the Vale of Leven, but she might not want to return to the place where she had lost all she held dear. Steinar pressed his hand to his chest where the green riband was tucked beneath mail and tunic, close to his heart. Did Colbán also carry her favor?

As the king rounded a bend in the road leading to the tower, loud cheers ascended from the boisterous crowd lining both sides of the path.

Steinar scanned the faces of the women and girls who stood waving and smiling at the returning warriors, disappointed that Catrìona’s beautiful face was not among them.

Giric broke from the crowd and ran to him, his eyes shining and his little gray dog barking loudly at his side. “Scribe!”

The crowd’s shouts of welcome made it too noisy to converse, but Steinar gave the boy a smile that told him he was glad to see him.

The boy latched on to Steinar’s stirrup and walked alongside his horse as they continued on toward the tower. “Yer home!”

The word “home” rang in Steinar’s ears. Indeed, Scotland was now and ever would be his home. Somehow he must get word to his sister of the favor granted him by the King of Scots.

“Aye, lad, I am home.” Reaching his arm to the boy, he said “Grab on!”

Giric took his hand and Steinar lifted the boy into his saddle.

“Oh…” breathed the lad, squirming in front of him. “’Tis grand from up here.”

“Your first time on a horse?” Steinar asked.

The boy inclined his head to the side so Steinar could glimpse his face. “Aye.”

Giric was not afraid, that much was clear. Rather, he was excited and happy. “Brave lad.” Someday, Steinar was certain, Giric would be a bold warrior, a credit to his king.

The tower came into view and Steinar caught sight of the queen and her ladies standing before the carved wooden door, their smiling faces turned toward the returning warriors. Steinar’s heart leapt to see Catrìona’s face alight with a glow of happiness.

Was she smiling at him, the king or the king’s captain?

The king was the first to dismount and the crowd closed in to wish him well. Colbán followed, slipping from his horse in haste to plunge into the crowd, heading straight for Catrìona.

To Steinar’s surprise, Colbán bowed before her and kissed her offered hand. From behind her she brought forth a folded cloth, copper in color, and handed it to him. They were too far away for Steinar to hear the words they exchanged, but Colbán strode into the hall a happy man.

Steinar felt a scowl building on his face as he lifted the boy down and dismounted. Handing the reins to a waiting servant, he took off his gloves and headed to where the ladies greeted the men in front of the tower door. The muscles in his right leg cramped, reminding him he had given the leg little rest in the days he had been gone.

Giric walked at his side, matching his pace, chattering about the raid into Northumbria. Steinar heard only the last question.

“Was it very bloody?” the boy asked.

Steinar was certain the question was posed in eager anticipation of hearing a story the lad could pass along to the village children.

He tousled the boy’s hair. “Wait till we are inside and I’ve quenched my thirst, then I will tell you.”

Confusion reigned in front of the tower blocking his view of the ladies for a moment, but Steinar pressed on, making his way through the crowd to the front door. Catrìona’s searching gaze met his. He pressed on, more eager than ever to reach her. As he stepped in front of her he saw she wore a green gown the color of her eyes. Her face lit up with a smile that melted his heart. Could it be that Colbán had not yet claimed her?