Battlesong: Song, #2

Battlesong

The Song Series, Book 2

ALLISON KNIGHT

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

Battlesong

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue, Albany OR 97321 U.S.A.

~~~

Second Edition 2022

ISBN: 978-1-92668-164-1

Copyright © 2022 Martha Krieger All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Robyn Hart

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Version_2

Other Books by Allison Knight

Song Series

Lovesong, 4

Windsong, 3

Battlesong, 2

Heartsong, 1

A Matter for Passion

A Treasure for Sara

Betrayed Bride

Heal My Hurting Heart

Lynbrook’s Lady

Roses for My Lady

To the ladies of GCCRWA and as always to Hank.

Chapter One

By the body of Saint Swithun, Arthur, the fates have been kind to you!

ʼTwould seem that this wedding will not be such a sacrifice after all. Arthur ap Brynn Ffrydd turned to Terris Morton, his best friend who was about to witness his vows to the woman below them.

Beneath her veil, he glimpsed bright curls, a brilliant color, like the blaze of fire, red, hot, intense. Even in her billowing blue gown, she possessed the curves every knight savored. She turned and stared up at them.

Arthur gasped.

What a beauty! Her oval face boasted brows perfectly arched above her eyes. Although he was too far away to determine the color of her eyes, he really didn’t care. With those feminine assets, she would be easy to bed. Aye, this union would be most pleasant. King Edward had done him a favor, after all.

What say you we find the chapel? I’m no longer loath to pledge myself, Arthur said.

Terris laughed, and Arthur grinned as well. This would turn out to be a most pleasant day for him.

A short time later, he stood before the cleric who would hear their vows. Arthur couldn’t help the worry coursing through him, though. The woman walking toward him seemed much shorter than the woman in the bailey, nor could he see her face or her hair, for she was now completely covered with heavy veiling from the top of her head to her waist. If not for the blue gown, he would have insisted this was not the same woman he and Terris spied.

She is very shy, her father, Laird Broc Blair, whispered as he stood beside Arthur to witness the vows. Ach, her desire is for only her new husband to remove those garments. Her surprise.

He nodded, glanced at his bride then turned to Terris. What think you?

You saw her. Surely, she had no idea she was being observed. Mayhap, like her father says, she is very shy.

But he noted Terris’s frown as well. However, there could be no trick here. Nay, no Scotsman would dare antagonize the King of England when things were in such chaos in Scotland.

Arthur’s thoughts drifted over his last days in Edward’s court. Hadn’t the king himself informed Arthur this union was something the king desired? Arthur remembered several other barons and knights ordered to take the daughters or widows of Scotsmen to wife. One had refused, claiming he wanted another, and Edward stripped him of property and status.

Arthur wasn’t about to let that happen to him, not when the king gifted him with a lush estate in the north of England.

Deep in thought, Arthur missed the words spoken by the cleric, as well as the halting responses by his bride, responding to his vows only when Terris nudged him. Finally, the long ceremony was over.

Arthur accepted the small hand of the woman he had just wed and turned to escort her from the chapel. As they reached the doorway, and before he could insist she remove her veils, she yanked her fingers from his then dashed away.

Shy? he muttered. Not shy. More likely terrified.

Then he remembered something the laird mentioned earlier that morning when they had met to discuss the dowry. The woman lost her mother several years ago. Perhaps no one told her what to expect in the marriage bed. Could it be reason she ran from him? It was possible.

Well, he didn’t have time to worry about it now. He needed to settle with the laird and attend the banquet prepared for the couple. He would see her at table, and surely, she would no longer be covered. Arthur set off to find his new father-in-law.

~ * ~

Laren raced up the stairs and through the central passage of the keep to the small alcove that held her cot and her clothing. The man hadn’t even flinched when the cleric read her name. Did he not know the name of the lass to whom he should have wed?

She herself read aloud the initial letter of acceptance to her king’s proposal of marriage and it clearly stated the bride was named Nairna. Had this Arthur even seen the letter? Perhaps, he couldna read or write.

Ach, it could not be true. Edward’s orders said the man to marry her sister was his trusted knight. Everyone knew the King of England suffered no poorly trained knights in his service, especially not one he named as favored.

She tore off the offending heavy veiling, trying to forget the suffocating sensation and how she stumbled because she couldna see. How could her father think to fool the King of England? Surely, this would bring forth Edward’s wrath.

Perhaps the knight himself would be the one to destroy everyone in the keep. How could she have said the vows, knowing it was all a trick?

She rubbed her upper arm, aware her father’s bruises would mar her skin for days. However, his threat to hurt Edyth was more than she could bear. Would he truly have beaten her to death? Laren didna know. What she did know was that her father was a cruel man.

But to kill a faithful servant? He just might. She remembered the bruises she had witnessed on her mother. There was the time her mother claimed her broken arm had come from a fall from a horse, but her mother seldom rode. Aye, her father could kill, she had no doubt. Laren clenched her jaw so lightly her jaw hurt.

Her father’s plan for this wedding was diabolical. She had no idea how he intended to convince this Arthur ap Brynn Ffrydd to leave her in Scotland, where she could carry on her work. It was the only thing that made sense because no one else was capable of caring for the keep.

Mayhap, her father knew this Arthur would not want her, for she appeared to be a bairn. She had no curves like Nairna, nor had her courses started yet. Aye, that had to be the scheme. All of this so her father could marry Nairna off to the laird of the Crawford clan and together fight the English. Ha!

When Edward heard of this deception, there would be nothing left of this keep to fight for, and her father’s severed head would grace a pike at the gatehouse.

Of course, when the Sassenach below learned of the deceit, she had no idea what his reaction might be. If he had already discovered what transpired in the chapel, mayhap her father’s life blood already stained the hall.

This Arthur was not unpleasant to look upon, even though he was big compared to her laird or any of the men of the Blair clan. He arrived yesterday with his friend, and he looked capable of inflicting any amount of damage on her person, or on any man of the clan, especially her father. She would not think about her father after he threatened to beat Edyth.

Laren peeled off Nairna’s gown, threw it on her cot then sought her own plain garment, hurrying to clothe herself before Laren’s new husband came to her chamber. The horror of him finding her unclothed made her fingers work the hooks with speed she didn’t know she possessed.

She wondered if she could sneak down the steps to gain access to the cooking area. The feast planned needed her attention. Their people were capable, but she had been supervising them for several years now, first under the direction of her ailing mother and now, by herself. They would have questions, and she should be there to answer them.

The Sassenach and his friend must be fed, she announced to the blue gown she tossed aside.

Nairna would want her garment returned. And Laren had work to do. She pulled at the door to her small space.

It didn’t budge.

She yanked on the wooden handle. Nothing gave. Again, she tugged, harder. The door refused to open.

Trapped. Another of the laird’s doings, something he ordered? To prevent the groom from discovering the switch? Aye, her father would think it necessary.

A quiet rage built inside her, and she sank to the bed, ready to scream out her frustration.

Nay, she muttered to the bolted door. What can he hope to accomplish with this? He will bring the wrath of the Sassenach devil on our heads.

She blinked hard to prevent useless tears. Her father had gone mad. That could be the only explanation. He was fey and condemned them all to a fate worse than death.

Laren had no idea how long she sat on her bed and brooded about her circumstance. One hour, two? All she knew was that Nairna should have been the one to wed this Arthur, but no, Laren was forced to say the vows.

Would such a union be a binding one? Aye, she was of an age to marry and here in Scotland, a lass’s consent was never necessary. Besides, she stood in the chapel while the vows had been read, indicating her willingness.

A scraping sound alerted her to someone’s presence. Her new husband? She bit her bottom lip.

Laren, we will talk.

Brock Blair! Ach, she wanted to see her father even less than she wanted to see the Sassenach.

The door swung open, and he marched into the room, dragging Edyth with him.

What do you do here? Laren asked. She hoped her voice held the scorn she felt.

I have come to tell you what you will do.

Nay, please. The king of England will have our heads for what you have done.

He smiled with his usual cunning, and Laren’s skin crawled as fear slithered down her spine.

Your new husband will come soon. You will be without clothing when he arrives—

She shook her head, but he continued as if she had done nothing, You will tell him you have only seen ten and two summers and explain that you are not yet a woman. You ken?

I cannot lie, she whispered. Admit such a thing to a stranger? Besides, he will know I lie. Surely, someone will tell him I have ten and four summers, not two.

You will say what I tell you. He raised his hand as if the beat her again, then gave her that canny grin once more. The English pledge their children in marriage at even earlier ages. Telling him you are only ten and two summers will keep him out of your bed. Ach, you will stay here, and Edyth stays with me. If you do not obey… He tightened his hold on Edyth’s arm.

If he held her much tighter, Laren feared she would hear the crack of a bone.

I’ve heard of this Arthur. He’ll leave this place in disgust when he cannot claim you now. Then, you will stay here and continue to run this keep.

Please, I cannot lie. Do not ask this of me.

Again, he continued this time as if her words had never reached his ears, He has the dowry, much as I hated to give up the gold. These English are all greedy. He’ll be satisfied with my payment, and he indeed has a wife. That is enough. If the name of the lass pledged was misunderstood, I take no blame.

She latched onto his words about the gold. Do you plan to kill him when he leaves?

Nay! The king would not abide such an act. Yer husband is a favored warrior, we canna dispose of him. But he goes often into battle. Another’s sword will find him before he can come for you. I will see he dies in battle. You are staying here, you ken? Now, undress and get into that bed.

He twisted Edyth’s arm until the maid cried out. Poor Edyth was no matched for him, even though she carried far more girth than Laren herself. Nor was Edyth of any height.

As you wish. But I will need Edyth to help me prepare, Laren said. Her voice sounded tight with fear, even to her.

She stays with me until you have done your part. You do your part and Edyth will not suffer. Now, get yourself ready. Your man will come soon enough. The banquet feast was finished but a short time ago.

He slammed out of the doorway, dragging a whimpering Edyth behind him.

At that moment, Laren hated the man who had given her life. She almost wished this Arthur knew of the deception and would end the laird’s miserable life. Then, guilt washed over her. She could never wish harm on another, even her evil father.

However, history told her the laird would suffer, but everyone in the keep would be put to the sword as well. These English took no prisoners. She was compelled to do as her father commanded, not only to save Edyth, but also her clan.

For the first time in months, the death of her mother weighed on her soul. Had she lived, mayhap her mother could talk some sense into the laird’s head. But even her mother couldna change his mind. She couldna even protect herself.

Laren discarded her gown. Laird Blair was deadly serious about what would happen to Edyth if she disobeyed. And to think the kirk sanctioned such actions. Laren could only hope her father was correct that the man wedded to her would be uninterested in her.

Once again, tears threatened. She bit her lip, trying to still the hurt as she crawled under the furs. All she was to her father was someone capable of handling his estate. Nothing more. No matter what happened to her, she could not be responsible for Edyth’s death.

Laren tensed when someone knocked on the door to her chamber.

It was too soon.

Come, she said, her voice barely above a murmur.

As the door swung open, she moved deeper into the furs, praying she could somehow disappear.

Arthur ap Brynn Ffrydd glanced around the room. Ach, he was a handsome brute. His light brown hair hung to his shoulder, curling against his surcoat. Deep brown eyes gazed at her, and she read his annoyance. Why did he have to appear so—so manly?

What kind of room is this in which to greet a bridegroom? Where are your attendants? His rich, husky voice echoed through the small chamber. He glared at the small space she called her own.

Could he see her?

ʼTis too small. Why are you not in a chamber suitable for a bride?

She opened her mouth to say something and could not. His look made something inside her cringe with fear, but also stirred strange feelings of warmth. What would happen when he realized she was not his intended bride? Surely, her father had doomed them all to death.

He stepped into the room and walked to the cot, shedding his surcoat. You are not the woman I saw in the bailey.

He had seen Nairna. He knew!

I am not, she whispered, afraid of what would happen next.

Who are you?

I am Laren, daughter of Laird Blair, half-sister to Nairna.

Where is my bride?

His tone was hostile, and Laren wondered if she should pray for a quick and merciful death. I am the woman you wed.

He glared at her. The king of England made a contract with your father. I was to wed a woman named Nairna.

Laren cringed. How was she to explain? She could not say to this man he had been mistaken. Not with his fierce countenance and fearsome brown eyes.

You must look at the marriage contract you signed with my father. My name is the name of your bride.

He said nothing and spun out of the room. After a moment, she heard the plank drop over the opening. Someone had been witness to his leaving for once again, she was locked in this chamber.

What would happen now, for he must know he had been tricked?

Moments passed. No screams came from below, and she guessed no blood had been spilled…yet.

How long before a fist pounded on her door, she knew not, but the door swung open, and he stomped into the room. Aye, he checked out the contract. Now he knew for certain. Her whole body trembled.

Remove those furs. Stand up, he ordered.

Hot with humiliation, she lifted the furs and the bed linen and tentatively placed her feet on the cold floor. She shivered, because of the cold floor, she told herself.

Oh, Sweet Jesu, he swore. How old are you?

I have ten and tw-two years now. She stumbled over the untruth. Our midwife says I am slow to develop.

He stood there, the expression on his face one of disbelief. You have started your courses?

The one question she didn’t want to answer. She couldna answer, nary a word would pass over the lump in her throat.

But he knew. She could tell by the look he gave her that he knew.

I am married to a child? he finally blurted. You are not old enough to bed.

She could make no answer. Instead, she sank back onto the cot and grabbed the furs to cover herself.

~ * ~

Arthur gazed at the little girl before him. This one had no curves, no feminine markings at all. No wonder they chose to cover her completely before he wed her. And she said she was ten and two.

Her father had been willing to part with her dowry. There was something else going on. He would have to figure out what scheme the wiry Laird Blair planned.

As he paced the narrow chamber, he wondered if his life was forfeit. Had the devious laird planned to kill them when he left the keep? Nay, not with the skilled soldiers who came to Scotland with him.

Surely, the laird knew of Arthur’s warriors and their position just outside the keep. Their abilities were well known and rumors of their skills abounded. Nay, Broc Blair would be a fool to kill him.

Rob him? That also was impossible. Edward would hear of it quick enough, though, and the king’s wrath was feared by all in Scotland. So why tie Arthur to a child? What was there about this young girl that forced the laird to try such a trick, for it was a trick.

When Arthur first entered the small chamber, her round, green eyes stared at him. She had been terrified. He could smell her fear. Now, she kept her head lowered. Her hair, the color of glowing embers, was twisted into braids that hung down her back. She was skinny, with no figure at all. Only the lack of certain male parts indicated she would someday become a woman.

Tell me why? What kind of plan does your father have? You are now my wife. Your loyalty is to me.

She looked ready to crawl under the tiny cot. Well, those words did not impress.

Am I to be robbed when we take my leave of this place? Come, I need to know.

She shook her head, opened her mouth then snapped it closed.

If not robbed, then does your father think to take my life?

Once again, she shook her head.

Talk to me. Tell me why. I need to know. He paced to the cot and stood before her.

She cringed away from him, moving to the wall. Arthur suspected she prayed for a hole into which to disappear. She clutched the furs as if they were some kind of shield. He would have to try a different approach, for she was clearly filled with terror at his approach.

If I am not to be robbed or killed leaving this keep, then what is planned for us? He moved away from her and toward the door. If he gave her more room, mayhap she would respond.

She once again opened her mouth, wet her lips, and croaked, You will not be harmed.

Why this pretense? You were completely covered so I would ask no questions. I want to know why?

I am to remain here. Until I am a woman grown. You can’t take me to your bed. My father told me you could not.

Arthur froze. The laird wanted her to stay at the keep? Again, the question rose from his soul and pounded through his body. Why?

"Tell me why the laird