Page 99 of The Hawk Laird
Chapter Twenty-Nine
James reached out,chains jangling, to assist John Seton in climbing the steep stairs, both of them wearing ankle and wrist cuffs and chains. At the top, they stepped into a yard. The dusty expanse was filled with sunset light. Several guards stood nearby.
He looked around warily. One of the soldiers who had brought them out of their cell had muttered that they were to be taken to the yard, but had said no more. Soldiers gathered to one side of the tower keep, where a small stone chapel jutted into the bailey. His parents had been married in that small church; he and his brother had been baptized there. He had knelt in prayer there countless times.
Now guards escorted James and John toward a small crowd that gathered along the steps of the chapel. On the steps in front of the arched entrance, he saw Isobel, Sir Ralph, and the priest he recognized from that ill-fated meeting in the forest. As he walked closer, he realized why they had been brought up here.
“Dear God, she is being married, here and now, on the steps of the church,” her father said.
In silence, James moved ahead slowly. The profound weight of his sinking heart was a thousandfold heavier than the chains he wore.
The ceremony had already begun. He could hear the priest speaking the Latin of the ritual. He heard Sir Ralph’s reply. After a moment he heard Isobel’s uncertain answer.
She looked like a queen or a saint, framed within the curve of the arch. Gowned in sumptuous blue, with glints striking off sleeves and hem, she was willowy and elegant beside Sir Ralph’s husky, vigorous form. The shimmering folds of the gauzy veil lent her face a fragile, ethereal beauty.
He stared, stunned and enthralled, struck deep to his soul.
Sir Ralph took her hand and slipped a ring on her finger. When he bent to kiss her, she leaned away, turning it awkward. Her groom turned to look out over the soldiers gathered there, saw James, and smiled, bitter and triumphant.
Isobel looked at no one. Leslie took her arm and spoke to her. She ignored him.
“Bastard,” John growled. “He delayed bringing us here. I am her father, and he knew I would raise an objection. So would you.”
James spun away in silence, feeling a tide of rage and anguish plunge through him like a killing blow, as when innocent Elizabeth had been killed; as when Wallace had been taken. He had survived those moments. He would survive this too, somehow. But he stood like a stone with his back to the church and the scene there.
“Jamie,” Seton murmured. “Look at her. Look, sir. What do you see?”
James reluctantly glanced at her, so beautiful, so heartbreaking. Then he noticed the curious tilt of her head, the icy glaze in her eyes.
“Jesu,” he breathed. “She is blind.”
“Aye,” John growled. “She must have prophesied for those bastards recently, and when she was defenseless, they led her into this marriage ceremony.”
Rage rose within him, hot and nearly uncontrollable. He fisted his hands, felt his belly tighten. He looked about instinctively for a weapon, found none but the chains on hishands, which he would have wrapped around Leslie’s throat if he could. Helpless and furious, he watched, unable to stop it.
“It is done,” John Seton said. “They are bringing her into the church—the priest will bless and solemnize the occasion.”
“There is no blessing in this,” James growled. Hearing his name called, he turned.
Janet ran toward them, skirts flying, to grab Jamie’s arm. “We will be released! They will escort us out of here now,” she said breathlessly.
“What do you mean? Why?” As he spoke, four guards urged the three through the yard to the vaulted foregate tunnel, where the portcullis gate was being raised, pulleys squealing, to reveal the lowered drawbridge. The guards led them tromping across the wooden bridge to the grassy verge that stretched toward the woodland. James took in fresh, keen air, but the shock of the marriage ceremony had drained him and the iron cuffs weighed him down further. He merely stood, looking about.
One guard came forward with a large iron key and began to unlock John Seton’s manacles, lifting the chains to hand to another guard. He did the same for James, who held out his arms in silence. The other sentries rested their gauntleted hands on daggers and swords in warning.
When cuffs and chains were removed, three guards walked back over the drawbridge, while the one holding the key stepped back, yet stayed. James recognized the same man who, days earlier, had refused to harm Isobel in the dungeon. He handed James a folded, sealed parchment.
“Safe passage from the commander of Wildshaw, allowing you to travel freely on his lands.”
That bit deep—Leslie’s lands! “Why are we being released?”
“I understand it was the bride’s wedding boon. She required it as a condition of marriage.”
Yet another blow, poignant and hard. “I see. Thank you for your help. Farewell—”
“Wait. Beware, Lindsay,” the knight murmured. “Soldiers are hiding in the woods, ready to ambush the three of you. That, I believe, is a wedding gift from the groom.”
James inclined his head. “Why do you warn us?”
