Becca St.John (18 page)

“I’ll not be in front of them. I’ll be up in the gallery.”

“You promise to sing the chorus and call down to me if I tell it wrong?”

He scrunched up his eyes as he thought about that one.

“Well?”

“Padraig would tell me off if I did that. In company, lads are to listen, not speak.”

Alissa sat back. “Aye, there’s truth to that. Still, for me, won’t you let me clean you up?”

“I can take a bath in the creek with Padraig.”

“Padraig’s not got time for that. We’re to start the meal.”

“But I just ate.”

“Aye, you have, with the other lads. Do you think you can stay tidy while you wait with them?” She adjusted the plaid she’d wrapped around him.

The boy nodded.

“That’s a lad. Then I’ll go down to the hall. One of the lasses will fetch you to the gallery when it’s time.” He nodded again. “Off you go, then.” She signaled to the nursemaid assigned to watch over the lad. “See that he doesna’ get in too much of a mess. He’s to be presented to important people tonight.”

“I’ve already met The Reah.”

“You have that,” she agreed. “But he’s yet to meet you as a hero.”

“A hero?” he scowled. “What’s that?”

“A brave, brave lad.”

“Och,” he imitated his elders. “I’ve done naught to be a hero.”

“Oh, aye, you have,” she told him and kissed his forehead. “Now off you go and do as you’re told.”

vvvvvv

As promised, the guards allowed Seonaid passage. The friar, a man who liked his meals, stood in the courtyard to welcome her, rather than sup with the others.

She walked up to him. “Father Kenneth.”

“Oh!” He spun to face her, lit with recognition. “Good, good!” He patted her arm. “I want to speak with you before you leave.”

“If you mean to chastise me, it’s too late for that.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not at all. I just wondered, have you been trying that prayer I taught you?”

“Aye, I’ve tried, but I’m not of a mind to settle quite that well.” Or to talk with the friar right now. Her mind was on other things.

“You will, lass. Just keep trying.”

“Fine,” she nodded, looking at the keep, wondering which way she should enter it. “Is that why you’re out here, instead of breaking bread with the others? To ask me about the centering prayer?”

“No.” He set them off walking, put his hands behind his back, head bowed. “I’ve been thinking about your dilemma and might have a solution.”

“There’s no making it all right.”

“That is true.” He took her arm, guided her toward the keep. “Life is never easy, but some paths are more palatable than others.”

“Are you offering a pill that’s not bitter?”

“Possibly.” He looked up at her from beneath his busy brows. “If it’s true you plan to leave both the boy and the warrior.”

She stopped. “I’ve told you as much.”

“Yes.” He gestured for her to continue on. “But the women have disbanded, so you’ve nowhere to go.”

“And you have a place for me? Somewhere safe and comforting, or a place of penance?”

He sighed and his stomach growled. He patted his belly, as though to stroke a rambunctious pet. “The healers have disbanded, but some of them joined a convent known for its hospice to the ill. Fine results. Their skills will not be lost to the world, and they’ve managed to expand the gardens with medicinal plants not normally found where they are.”

“The church sees to protection?” she asked.

Again, he nodded, but slowly this time. “As best they can, not knowing, of course, where these women came from.” He
tsk
ed sorrowfully. “Even under the banner of Christ, not all are forgiving or understanding of the benefit of such women.” He was still nodding, brow furrowed, deep in thought.

She touched his arm. “What has this to do with me?”

Startled, he looked up. “Oh, yes, of course. It’s just that, when we traveled together, I noticed you are a woman of deep faith and prayer. Are you not?”

“That is private.”

“As it should be. Christ taught to pray behind closed doors. I only know because of a morning, you would go off by yourself. Very private, very private indeed. Commendable. But I wondered if you ever considered making your home in the church. Marry God, let Him be your husband. Let Him offer a life of refuge.”

Stunned, she halted, pulled him back. “I am a woman of sin.”

“No.” He shook his head “You are a woman who was sinned against.”

“I have had carnal knowledge.”

“Many have before they come to Christ’s table. It is what you do afterward that makes the difference.”

“I am not a woman of the church.”

He smiled, shook his head. “Come to the banquet. Partake of that which is good, and leave the rest.”

“I could not.”

He shrugged, tugged her arm to get her moving forward again. “Perhaps not. Then again, perhaps you could.”

She immediately thought of Padraig, of carnality, the blessing of his touch, and realized in leaving she’d never truly let herself believe she would never see him again, never experience his passion again. Deep in the recesses of her dreams, she always thought of Padraig as a possibility. Of Deian being in a place where she could peek in, see him at play, growing up.

She never imagined cutting herself off from them. The world, yes, but not them.

But that was exactly what she needed to do.

They reached the steps to the keep.

“Pray on it,” Father Kenneth advised.

“Yes, I will. Thank you, Father.”

He bowed. “Fine, and now let us eat before it is all gone.”

“You go ahead, Father. I will find my way to the balcony.”

Already climbing the stairs, he waved, “I will have them send you food, then.”

“Thank you,” she responded, unaware of doing so.

The church, a convent, for a woman like her. She’d borne a bastard son, killed people, experienced the physical love of a man, and yet this friar suggested the church as her haven.

Was such a thing possible? He seemed to think so. She didn’t know whether to be grateful for the proposal or to curse him for making it.

CHAPTER 19 ~ BEAUTIFUL ODE

Deian skipped down the hallway, jolting Alissa with every step, as his hand was in hers. He was going to sing, a part she called the chorus. But there was no chorus; just him, singing three lines every time she asked him to. When he wasn’t singing, he could sit beside her in the great hall, with the chief and his warriors, but he had to promise to be silent and strong, like a warrior.

Only he’d never seen a silent warrior. They yelled and shouted and punched each other.

“I can be like a warrior,” he promised her.

“Aye, you are just like a great fighting man, only a wee bit smaller.” she confirmed.

The gallery was long, with several alcoves, each with a bench and a long narrow window on one side, and a balcony overlooking the great hall on the other. He let go of Lady Alissa, who couldn’t move as fast as he wanted to because of her skirts. He darted into the alcoves, jumped up on the benches, peeked out of windows, darted out again. He meant to skip the next one, as the others proved boring, until he saw the woman.

She sat huddled over a trencher of food, her cowl pulled up and over her head, hiding her like a specter in the shadows. Except it couldn’t be a ghost because Brut sat at her feet, a great big hairy watch dog. Brut would bark at anything dangerous.

Still, Deian learned on his adventures with his mama and Padraig, he shouldn’t take chances. He stood still, even as his body hummed in anticipation, the vibration building, muscles tight with control. Something nudged him forward, a thought, a sense, he didn’t know what, but he took a step closer.

He took another step, after one quick look to see Lady Alissa there, at the edge of the alcove, watching. He looked back at the cowled specter. “Can I take Brut with me?”

The dog rose, his tail wagging. “Do you mind?” he pressed. “Do you mind if the dog comes with me?”

And the head lifted, the cowl shifting, revealing a pale face and violet eyes.

“Mama?” he whispered. She placed her finger to her lips, removed a corner of the trencher, soaked in gravy, and tossed it to the dog.

Deian stood, frozen to the spot, tears pooling in his eyes, torn between holding onto his mother, who hadn’t reached for him, and following Alissa to the great hall, to be treated like a little warrior.

“Who are you?” Alissa pulled Deian back by the shoulder, but he jerked free. “Eban,” she reprimanded, but he didn’t want to be called Eban, he didn’t want to be taken from his mama. Except his mama didn’t want him and Lady Alissa did.

“Eban,” Lady Alissa crouched down. “Leave the woman alone now. Everyone is waiting for you.”

Anger rose, blurring all sweetness, all want. His mama was there, but she only looked at him, didn’t even smile. He pushed past Brut, kicked at his mother, knocked her leg aside, her trencher falling to the floor, the dog grabbing it, pulling it free and running.

“Eban!” Lady Alissa snapped.

Deian kicked again, but his ma moved before he could make contact.

Lady Alissa pulled Deian away, shoved him toward the stairs. “Go now, do you hear me?” she ordered. He glowered at his mother. She nodded for him to do as he was told.

The two women stayed in the alcove, didn’t see him back against the wall listening, hearing Lady Alissa’s low angry order. “Be here,” the words grated out, “when he gets back. Don’t you dare leave or I’ll send the hounds of hell after you.”

She ordered his mother to wait because she might not. She might leave, forever, without even saying good-bye. He ran off, angry with her, angry with tears he willed away. He did not want Alissa to find him. He wanted to hurt anyone, anything, in his path.

His mother had to be ordered to see him.

vvvvvv

Seonaid’s hand trembled as she put her fingers to her lips, pressed back a sob. He hated her. Hated her.

But she’d seen him, witnessed the protective caring he would receive from a lady who understood how to raise a boy better than Seonaid ever could.

She would leave. She would go to the convent Father Kenneth told her about. She would live a life of penance for giving up her son, for her carnal knowledge of Padraig. She would live her life in apology for many things, but never for setting them free. They were both better off without her.

She rose to leave, stepped out of the alcove, to find Padraig at the end of the gallery.

“The lad told me you were here. He’s hurt, lass. Said you came, but didn’t want him.”

“I don’t want others to know he’s my son.”

“Do you think they don’t already ken that?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Even when the chief told you he knows.” Padraig’s temper started to show.

Seonaid held her calm. Or, what she hoped appeared as calm. In truth, she’d wrapped emotion so tight it cut off any feelings. She’d had to do that. “Angus won’t be telling others.”

“Lady Alissa’s no fool.”

He tried to stir feeling, but she wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow it. “She’d never do anything to hurt Deian.”

“Then talk to her about him.” He leaned over her, spoke face to face. “And talk to him about what you’re doing and why.”

“There’s too much risk if I do that. I realize that now.” Deep emotions roiled wildly, shifting her armor. She couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let Padraig see it. It was too late for that. She’d set herself on an unchangeable path.

“He thinks you cast him aside, that he has no importance to you.”

No, no, no, no.
She was doing this
for
Deian, not
because
of him.

“He hates me. He needs to hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Seonaid,” Padraig whispered, so she had to lean close. “He thinks you don’t care about him.” Padraig ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re goin’ to make him hard, like you. So no one can get close for fear of being hurt.”

She spun away, words swirling within, tangled in the chaos of her thoughts. Lochlan turned bad when their mother died, that’s when the evil came out. “I didna’ know what to do!” She looked back at Padraig. “I didna’ know what to do with her standing there.” She moved in close. “I wanted to pull him into my arms, hug him so tight he’d never forget me, but she’s the one he needs, not me. It’s killing me, Padraig,” she hiccupped on a sob.

Crumbled to the floor.

She knew he hesitated, letting go of her already, not wanting to taint himself with her mass of wrongs.

Then he was there, easing her up, to sit in the alcove, without putting his arms around her.

“If I reached for him, she would know for fact, who I was, who he is. I couldna’ do that to him. Oh, Padraig, will it ever stop hurting? Will life ever be liveable?”

“Not if you keep heading for the dark.”

“What do you mean?”

The strum of a harp carried up, into the balcony. Padraig’s gaze turned toward the sound.

“She’s beautiful, but not promised to anyone. You could be together, a family.”

He rose. “Don’t be daft!” Stepped back, shaking his head. “A young and wild lass stole my heart when I was barely old enough to know I had a heart. Wild as the wind she was, with violet eyes and long dark tresses. Years beneath me in age, she raised a wooden sword and challenged me. The spear hit its mark, not her’s, but Cupid’s. Made a fool of me and I’ve been chasing her ever since; but she doesn’t know how to love herself, so she canna’ find a way to allow anyone else to love her.”

“No,” Seonaid shook her head, as though to shake away his words.

“I failed her, didna’ save her from the worst.” He pushed her hair back from her forehead. “So you see, Seonaid, we both have our demons. I knew something horrific happened to you, but for the life of me, never guessed what it really was. I should have been there for you. It should have been me that saved you, but I failed.”

“No, you did no wrong.”

“Aye, and you’ve yet to forgive me for that.”

“There’s naught to forgive.”

“Your words wound me. Tell me I’m of no value to you. Just as you tell Deian the same. You’re his mother. You think you’re helping him, when what you’re really doing is plunging a dagger into his soul.”