Page 22 of The Refuge

“We came most immediately from Dunkeld,” said her brother, “the home of our uncle, the Mormaer of Atholl.”

Ah, Rhodri was right again. She is a relation of the powerful Atholl. He might have expected as much. Another woman come to the king’s court to seek a husband.

Turning to his sister, Niall said, “I must leave if I am to retrieve my bow and join the archers.” He handed the duck to the boy. “See that Kessog’s kill gets to the kitchen.”

Giric took the bird, nodding happily.

“You go to practice your skill with the bow?” Steinar asked the brother.

“Aye.”

“Then you will meet my friend, Rhodri, the Welshman.”

“The bard?” the brother asked.

“Aye, he is the king’s bard but you’ll not find another as proficient with the bow,” said Steinar. “He taught all at Talisand.”

“He never misses,” said Giric to Niall.

“Where is this place you speak of,” Catrìona asked, “this Talisand?”

“’Tis in England.”

“You are Saxon, then,” she said.

He could speak Gaelic now like one of the Scots but he was still English, or had been until the Conqueror had come. “Not Saxon from Wessex, like the queen. I am from farther north, but like the queen, driven to Malcolm’s court by the Normans.” The words were bitter on his tongue as he remembered the Norman king who had robbed him of his family and his home.

With Niall’s imminent departure, Steinar said, “Since you are going to join the archers, I will be happy to see your sister safely back to the mews.”

Catrìona frowned, then shrugged and nodded to her brother. “Until this eve.”

The brother waved to them as he walked off in the direction of the archery field.

Steinar led her to the path that would take them back to the tower.

Giric ran ahead with the duck hanging from one hand, leaving Steinar alone with Catrìona, who carried her falcon on her gauntlet.

“You did not seem pleased with my offer to escort you.”

“I can see myself back, ’tis all.”

“Ah, but here at Malcolm’s court a lady is usually escorted.”

She made a sound that sounded like a huff.

“How do you like being one of the queen’s ladies?”

“I cannot really say. The queen is very kind, but the role is a new one for me. Thus far, it has been rising in the dark to pray, feeding the orphans and…”—she screwed up her face as if tasting something unpleasant—“needlework.”

Steinar hid a smile. This woman would soon grow bored with such a routine. “You may find the days a bit tedious, but if you can attend the queen’s councils, the ones she has held with the Culdees, you will find her of keen intelligence. The king attends, oft translating the Gaelic since it is still a new tongue to her. She pursues debate on behalf of the church with great fervor.”

“I would like to see these councils you speak of.”

He chuckled. “I expected you would.”

“Do you know me so well, then?” Sparks in her green eyes signaled a challenge.

“I do not know you at all, my lady, but I suspected.” He wanted to tell her of his sister, Serena, who was so like her in temperament, but she might not understand he was offering her praise, not criticism. Catrìona was young and, given her station, likely unused to men. As with a wild falcon, he would have to first win her trust.