Page 47

“I am sorry Agnus had so little knowledge of your parents.”

Despite that the alewife could tell them nothing to lead Reina any closer to the truth, she’d had a pleasant enough afternoon with both Agnus and Oriana. In some ways, she reminded Reina of Joan. Though Agnus was not a healer, both women were older, wiser in many ways. Reina could see the woman and Oriana were quite close, a fact that did not seem to trouble Oriana’s parents, unlike Reina’s own experience.

She’d wanted to ask Galien’s sister more of herself. Why she was unmarried, for instance, when a woman of six and twenty would typically have a husband. Perhaps, like her, Oriana had been betrothed and something had happened to break it.

But she never had the opportunity to ask. The alewife talked most, and even showed her a bit of the process of how ale was made. Reina had been fascinated, and surprised, to discover they had spent so much time with Agnus.

From her, Reina had learned more of the ancient feud between the Waryn family and Clan Kerr. How they eventually intermarried, became allies, and now worked together to secure the passage. Battles raged around them but, courtesy of their efforts, from the east coast and Kenshire to Bristol and along the border in the north, travelers and tradesmen remained safe. And she learned their clan’s connection to the reivers. Though only through marriage, both Galien and Oriana called the lord and lady of Kenshire aunt and uncle, their children, cousins. It was as if his family made no distinction, through marriage or nay, and explained how Galien had so many cousins. It was his “Uncle Geoffrey” who, after losing Bristol Manor to Clan Kerr, had become a reiver himself to survive.

And so, thirty years after Galien’s Uncle Geoffrey became the Earl of Kenshire, the Waryn family, Clan Kerr, and some reiving families were now united against, as Agnus said, “Everyone. Scots and English alike, if they be enemies to our peace.” As war raged, they walked on the edge of a delicate balance between pleasing those in power and keeping their own families safe.

The only problem was, Reina still did not know where, precisely, she belonged. Agnus knew much of the tale of Dennochbrook, and even some details Galien had not. She did reveal, at least, that in her time, most believed the babe to be the daughter of a farmer and his wife, though Agnus did not remember their names. It was as Galien had told her: the sole witness to the Englishman carrying the babe south was a healer, a woman who’d lived on the outskirts of the village. She’d heard the baby cry and realized why the men had fallen so far back, behind the others.

The same story. One that seemed to ring true. Yet even if the healer was alive and they could find her, she likely knew little about the identity of either the warriors or the babe.

“As am I, though if Agnus had known more, I might have been surprised,” Reina said as they rode through the gates of Brockburg. “Even so, I had a lovely day. Thank you for escorting me,” she said to Oriana.

“Reina,” her companion waved as one of the guards seemed to pay her special mind, “I would do anything for you. If not for your actions, my brother would be dead. Or close to it. We shall never be able to repay that debt.”

Reina had been thinking much about his capture. About what she’d done and the events that had unfolded since. “’Tis strange, actually,” she admitted. “I’ve not been so reckless ever before in my life. Always I’ve been the dutiful daughter, angering my parents only for having spent so much of my time with Joan. And they like our healer,” she rushed to add, “but not particularly the time I spent with her.”

“Ours would welcome your assistance,” Oriana said as the women dismounted. “And none would begrudge you for it here.”

She gave her companion a look. “You assume much,” she said gently.

“And you, too little,” Oriana shot back.

They made their way through the courtyard toward the keep, Reina strangely happy given she’d learned little about her past that day. Perhaps Rory would learn more.

“Your brother is a more principled man than any I’ve ever met,” she said, lifting the hem of the lovely deep cranberry gown Lady Juliette had given her. “I fear I cannot compete against a man who fights for freedom. One,” she admitted, “I can understand. ’Tis wrong of King Edward to demand Scots submit to his rule. To put innocents at risk to subdue a people who wish only to rid themselves of an absent and cruel overlord.”

Oriana seemed surprised by her support. “And yet, you are English.” She smiled. “Like my mother.”

“Does your mother support King Edward’s claim?”

Oriana thanked the steward who opened the keep’s doors for them. “Of course not,” she admitted. “But she is more Scots than English now, the matriarch of a clan fiercely independent of all politics.”

“So you do not support Balliol’s claim?”

Oriana shrugged, peering into the hall. She seemed confused by what she saw, or did not see, in the hall. “My father openly submits to no one. He says Clan Kerr will wait for the infighting to cease and then, perhaps, will openly give support. But he is not convinced a clear claimant has yet emerged.” She turned back to their steward. “’Tis nearly time for the evening meal,” she said, nodding to the hall.

There were at least two dozen inside, though no evidence of the one person Reina wished to see. Oriana had assured her Galien knew of her whereabouts, but still, she very much wanted to speak to him. To tell him of their day. Of the little they’d learned from Agnus. And most of all, to speak of where they’d left things last eve.

He had left her chamber seeming at peace but also frustrated. Galien promised they would speak on the morrow, and never had she thought it would be nearly sunset before they had an opportunity to do so. But he was nowhere to be seen.

“Your parents and uncle are in the small hall, my lady.”

“The small hall? ’Tis never used,” Oriana answered. The steward did not respond.

“What is the small hall?”

“It was added behind the kitchens, a sort of solar chamber but more spacious. A place to host the clan councils that was more private than this.” She gestured toward the main hall. “But there is no council meeting. And the solar is plenty large enough for my parents and uncle if they wished to take a meal there.” Oriana frowned. “Something is not quite right.”

“If you wish to refresh yourself, my lady,” the steward said to her, “I am to escort you to the hall upon your return.”

“Me?” Reina asked, wondering why he did not refer to both of them.

“Aye, my lady.”