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“That is more than most noblemen leave their families.”
“Aye, but Robert was not your ordinary nobleman. He was kind.”
“Did you ken the late duke, Abbess Murdina?”
“A long time ago. A very long time ago.”
“Then I am sorry for your loss as well.”
Murdina just nodded, then said, “Oh, and one more thing, Sister Bissett.”
“Aye.”
“Whatever happens, William must never ken he has a legitimate half-brother.”
***
Chapter 1
1036 - Saddell Abbey, Argyll, Scotland
“Please dinnae leave me here, Papa, please. I promise to be good. I will not eat much, and I’ll stay out of sight.” Yesenda clung to her father. Her arms wound tight around his waist, her cheek resting against his stomach.
Grant MacDonald was a large imposing figure who rarely showed emotion unless it came to his twelve-year-old daughter. His features softened as he held her tight and tried to placate her.
“Och, come now sweeting. Tis not a punishment leaving you at the abbey, tis a blessing. You will learn much more from the sisters than me, and my war band can teach you.”
“No, I only want to learn from you, Papa. You can teach me anything,” she said, sobbing.
He gently stroked the back of her hair as he whispered and gentled his voice, “With yourmàthairgone, you need a woman’s touch and a fine education. I cannot teach you those things, sweeting. This is the best place for you.”
“I dinnae need women. Please, Da, I can learn everything from you.”
“Mo nighean, you are a lass, and you need to learn womanly things.”
Yesenda began sobbing in earnest. She could not bear to be separated from all she held dear; it was too much for her pre-teen emotions to process.
“But I dinnae need those things, Papa. I want to be a warrior. I will learn more from your men than what nuns can teach me.” Yesenda had worked herself into a state.
Grant softly smiled, then he crouched down so he could speak to her properly.
“Yesenda, someday you will make a fine warrior. But you need women to teach you how to become a fine mistress for the clan. Now, dinnae embarrass us with this watery display.” He smiled to soften the reproach.
Yesenda sniffed, then remembered they had an audience. A nun and two novices stood a short distance away. Her spine straightened.
Yesenda wiped her tears and said, “Sorry Papa, tis just that I… I… love you and I will miss you.” She hiccupped the words.
The laird’s eyes softened and glistened with unshed tears. It was the only outward sign that it was difficult for him to part with her, too. “I love you, sweeting. More than anything in the world. It’s why I need to do this. I’ll visit as soon as I can.” His voice cracked slightly, then he cleared his throat and said, “Come now, the sisters are waiting. MacDonald’s dinnae keep people waiting.”
With those words, he hugged Yesenda once more, wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her cheek, then stepped away and ushered her towards the women.
When Yesenda was standing beside the nuns, her father smiled at her one last time, then took his leave. Yesenda watched him slowly disappear down the cloister, his gait sure and strong. Her father turned back once, waved, and Yesenda frantically waved back in return. Then he was gone.
That was the last time Yesenda saw her father alive. Because a month later, Laird MacDonald was killed in a skirmish with a hostile clan. When news reached the abbey, Yesenda was inconsolable that she would never see her beloved father again. She had lost both parents within a year, and she was far from home, where her heart ached to return.
Yesenda’s older brother, Ruadh took over as laird and she wrote several times begging Ruadh to let her return home, but each time he replied telling her it was not safe. Still, she begged until finally she gave up.
Yesenda vowed never to love anyone again because everyone she loved either died or abandoned her.
