A Sword Upon The Rose Read online

  But he was hardly as intimidating as her uncle.

  “That will not do.” His stance was more aggressive now. “Did you or did you not see my knight in battle?” He did not raise his tone, but it remained firm, unyielding.

  Duncan might beat her, but she would survive. Eleanor was right—she must not displease Buchan. She took a deep breath. “I must confess, my lord, to you.”

  “Confess what?”

  She fought despair. “I do have visions, but I did not have a vision of Duncan in battle. I lied.”

  Buchan’s eyes widened. Duncan turned red, and his eyes popped.

  “You lied?” Buchan asked with disbelief. “Explain yourself, mistress.”

  She hugged herself, trembling. “Godfrey goaded me, as he always does, I lied to spite him. I did not have a vision of Duncan in battle.”

  A terrible silence fell.

  Alana looked nervously back and forth between the two men. Duncan was enraged, but the earl was somehow far more frightening. She felt how his thoughts raced. She wished he would not stare.

  “You will pay for this,” Duncan snarled.

  Buchan lifted his hand. “Enough. Lies do not sit well with me, mistress.”

  “And that is why I did not wish to lie to you.” She looked at her uncle, needing courage to do so. “Six days ago, I saw the battle for Boath Manor—I saw the manor in flames, I saw Highlanders fighting the English, and I saw their dark-haired leader rescue a woman and her two children from the inferno.” She was hoarse with fear.

  Buchan’s eyes were wider. “The battle for Boath Manor was the day before yesterday.”

  “Yes, it was, we came upon it—and it was exactly as I had seen.”

  Duncan charged forward. “So you lied again? You saw Iain of Islay?”

  “Yes,” Alana said, afraid he might strike her.

  Buchan gestured at Duncan, clearly meaning for him to stand back. “Now we are getting somewhere. Boath Manor is done. How often do you have these visions, Alana?”

  “It varies.”

  “That will not do,” Buchan said. He gave her a sidelong look and began to pace, slowly, his expression still thoughtful.

  Eleanor hurried to her side and put her arm around her. She dared to glance at Duncan, who glared at her with raw hatred.

  Buchan returned to stand before her. “You know I am pleased with you,” he said, smiling.

  She was incredulous.

  “How can we encourage your visions?”

  “I cannot summon them,” she tried.

  Duncan interjected, “Water, my lord. She has visions when she looks into water.”

  Buchan seemed pleased. “Find a large glass bowl and fill it with water, and place it beside her bed,” he told Duncan. “You, Alana, will spend your days and nights staring into it.”

  Alana felt ill. “I never look at water. I avoid looking into water, my lord!”

  “Not anymore. You do wish to be useful to me? To your family?”

  What could she do? She nodded.

  “Good.” Buchan tilted up her chin. “Then you must have these visions—you must seek them out—and I must know the future of my earldom.”

  He was asking for the moon and the stars, but she nodded, the feel of his blunt fingers under her chin disturbing. Worse, moisture seemed to gather in her eyes.

  “You may retire,” he said. He walked away from her, to the table. Relieved, Alana realized the interview was over.

  But as he sat down, he glanced at her. “And, Alana? I am not a patient man.” He smiled.

  She managed to nod, her heart thundering. His meaning was clear. She must have a vision about the earldom—soon.

  * * *

  ALANA STOOD BESIDE her bed as one of Buchan’s knights carried a large glass bowl of water inside. It was placed on the chamber’s single small table, between the two beds. She realized she was looking at the bowl of water, and she jerked her gaze aside. Then she saw Duncan standing in the doorway, red-faced.

  Eleanor immediately stepped between him and Alana. “My lord?”

  He looked at her with contempt. “You are to vacate this chamber, old woman. Buchan has ordered it.”

  “What?” Alana cried, aghast. “Surely you have misunderstood!”

  “There is no misunderstanding.” He shoved past Eleanor, almost knocking her down. Alana reached out quickly to steady her. “His lordship wishes for you to spend your time without distraction—just you and the water.”

  Alana was in disbelief. “Where will she go?”

  “There is a chamber above you. She’ll have to share it with the maids.”

  “It is hard enough for my grandmother to get up and down the stairs to this chamber. She cannot go up another flight!”

  Duncan stepped over to her and leaned close. “You lying little bitch!”

  Alana flinched. His fist was clenched and she dreaded a blow.

  “Don’t worry. I am not stupid. I can’t hit you, though you deserve a beating. Buchan has great expectations, Alana. I would not disappoint him if I were you.”

  His breath was foul. Alana stepped back. “I wish to see my uncle.” She would beg him to allow Eleanor to stay with her.

  Duncan laughed. “You are to stay here until you are summoned.” He turned, nodding Eleanor toward the door.

  “What?” Alana cried.

  “You heard me, Alana—you will not leave this room until you are summoned.” He was savagely satisfied.

  “Am I to be imprisoned here?” Alana was in disbelief. She could feel the glass bowl of water behind her—as if the water had a life of its own.

  It beckoned.

  “Come, old woman,” Duncan ordered.

  Alana seized her grandmother’s hand. “Gran!”

  “I will be fine, Alana. And so will you.”

  She was to be locked in her room with water. How could she be fine? Her visions were never pleasant ones. She had spent her life avoiding them—avoiding water. Dear God!

  “You will help him, if you can see the future of Buchan,” Eleanor said. “And then maybe he will help us.”

  Somehow, Alana nodded. Duncan snorted and took her grandmother’s arm, guiding her rudely from the room. He did not look back as the knight who had brought the glass bowl to her room closed her door. Stunned, Alana sank down on the bed closest to the door.

  Behind her, she felt the bowl of water, a forbidding and omniscient presence.

  She heard two pairs of steps departing. She stood and went to the door, taking up the latch. As she did, she heard a movement outside. The knight remained in the hall.

  Tears arose and flooded her eyes. She walked back to the bed and sat down on its end. She folded her hands in her lap. She did not turn her gaze to the glass bowl.

  Was she a prisoner? How could that be? Perhaps the knight was there to protect her, but from what, she could not say.

  She wiped the moisture from her lids. There were secrets in the room now, and they felt heavy. They felt dark. She refused to look up.

  She recalled Iain of Islay, as he was about to break down the door of the burning manor, as he turned and gazed across the battle at her. She closed her eyes in despair.

  This was not the time of think of Iain. She must think about her uncle, her father, her Comyn relations—and the earldom. She must have the courage to seek a vision, instead of dreading one.

  Slowly, Alana turned around until she could see the glass bowl of water.

  It seemed to stare back at her, cool and clear.

  Her heart was rioting in her breast.

  The water was still. Silent.

  Alana stared, the bowl blurring, but not from any vision. She could not see through her tears.

  * * *

 
; “GOOD MORNING, MISTRESS ALANA,” Buchan said the next morning, his smile pleasant.

  Alana stood on the threshold of the great hall, a knight with her. She had been summoned by her uncle, and the knight had retrieved her from her chamber and escorted her downstairs.

  Alana managed to reply. “Good morning.” But she was filled with trepidation. She had not slept at all last night. And she had not had a single vision, either.

  Buchan gestured her inside. Several knights sat with him at the table, as did Duncan, staring hatefully at her. Her grandmother was not present.

  Alana walked to the table, and took the seat indicated by Buchan. “Did you pass a pleasant night?” he asked.

  Would he be angry when she revealed that she had not had a vision? Or would he be reasonable? This far, he had not been ruthless or unkind, although she could not decide if she was being kept a prisoner. “I am unaccustomed to sleeping alone. My grandmother has shared my chamber since I was born. I did not sleep well, my lord.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

  “Will I be allowed to see my grandmother today?”

  “Of course.” He gestured at the knight who had escorted her down. “Please ask Lady Fitzhugh to come down for the breakfast.”

  Alana bit her lip. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You’re welcome. Did you see the future, Alana?”

  She did not move, hands in her lap. It was a moment before she spoke. “No, my lord, I did not.”

  “Then I am not pleased.” His smile was gone, his stare uncomfortably piercing.

  She flinched. “I tried, my lord. My visions frighten me and I dread them, but I tried.”

  “Trying will not help me and it will not help the earldom,” Buchan said. “We do not have time on our side. Bruce is but a day’s march away. There will be a battle soon. You must try harder, Alana, to see the future for me.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Do you? Did you look at the water? Reflect upon it? Pray?”

  “Yes, my lord, I did.”

  He studied her closely. “Your father has never spoken of you. I had heard years ago about his affair with your mother, and that a daughter had been conceived. But I had truly forgotten your existence, until Duncan brought you here. Would it inspire you if I told you I am eager to help you now that you have my protection?”

  Alana somehow smiled, stiff with tension. She was no fool. If she pleased him and had a vision as he wished, he would be helpful to her—he would find her a husband. “I am already inspired, my lord,” she said, when the opposite was true.

  “You should be married, with a manor of your own.”

  “No man will have me.”

  “They will if I say so,” Buchan said.

  Alana could not look away.

  “Do you wish for a husband? A home of your own? Children?”

  She could only recall Godfrey’s bullying and Duncan’s arrogance and advances—and Iain’s courage in the battle for Boath Manor. She suddenly looked at him. “Brodie Castle is my home.”

  “Of course it is. Clearly, you are attached. You do know it would not be out of the question to return it to you.”

  Alana gasped.

  “Would that please you?” he asked.

  She knew she was being played and manipulated. But dear God, it would be a dream come true, to have Brodie returned to her. It would be just.

  “I see you would wish, very much, to be the lady of Brodie,” he said softly.

  Oh, God, she thought, if only I could have a vision—one that will please him! “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, it would please me so much.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Duncan, who was in shock.

  But he did not need Brodie! He had two manors and an estate!

  Buchan leaned close. “Bruce murdered my cousin,” he said to her, more softly. “He stole the throne, and even my wife. And now he rapes and plunders Buchan lands. He has destroyed Inverlochy, Urquhart and Inverness.”

  Unable to look away, she trembled.

  “Will he march on Nairn? Will he march on Elgin, on Banf? Will we defeat him? Will I?”

  He was asking for so much! “It is hard enough,” she said, low, “seeking out a vision, much less requiring a specific one to occur.”

  He patted her hand. “But you are a Comyn. You are your father’s daughter as much as your mother’s. As a Comyn, you must do your duty to me and mine.”

  “I want to do my duty,” she cried. And it was true. Never mind that she had not been raised as a Comyn, or that the entire Comyn family had never considered her one of them, now she wanted nothing more than to have the vision he wished for.

  “Good.” He picked up his knife and fork and began to eat.

  Alana did not move. Although she had never given any thought to her future, not as a man’s wife, not as a child’s mother, tears arose. Was it possible that she might one day have a husband, children—a family?

  “You are not eating,” Buchan said.

  Alana was jerked out of her hopes and dreams. She smiled at him, and picked up her utensils. Dutifully, she began to eat.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE MEN WERE leaving the table. Alana made no move to get up, as Eleanor had joined them, but they had had no chance to speak privately yet. “My lord?” she called to Buchan’s back.

  In the doorway, the earl turned.

  “Dare I ask you about my father?” She trembled as she spoke. She had not heard Sir Alexander mentioned, not even once.

  Buchan returned to her. “Your father was on his way here, Alana, but I sent him a missive ordering him to remain in the south—to hold the line against Bruce if Bruce marches north toward Nairn or Elgin.”

  Her mind raced. Didn’t Iain always lead Bruce’s army? Would Iain’s army clash with her father’s?

  “You seem dismayed,” Buchan said.

  She forced a smile. “I was hoping to see him. It has been many years.”

  “I am sure you will see Sir Alexander, in time. I will let you know when he is on his way to Nairn.” Buchan turned to go.

  “My lord? Could I visit with my grandmother, just for a bit?”

  He glanced at her. “You may have a few minutes, Alana, but then I wish for you to return to your chamber and seek out a vision for me.” He left with Duncan and the other men.

  Alana stared after him. So that was how it was to be? She would now spend her days closeted in her chamber with a bowl of water? And would she only be allowed a brief moment with her grandmother—her best friend, her closest confidante?

  And her father was not on his way to Nairn.

  Eleanor took her hand. “Alana?”

  She stole a quick glance at the door, but the men were gone. Only a single knight remained—the English knight who had been outside her door since the previous day. Clearly, Sir John was now her guard. “I am fine—but I have not had a vision.”

  Eleanor squeezed her hand. “I have been so worried about you! He is keeping you locked up with that glass of water.... Shame on him, to use and abuse you so!”

  “Gran! Hush! We must not speak ill of the earl!” Alana shot a glance at Sir John, who was listening to their every word. She flushed, as he did not try to conceal his interest. Although it was not quite true, she said, “I do not feel exactly like a captive, Gran. I think he believes that solitude will aid me in my quest for a vision. I so want to help. He is my uncle.” She pulled her grandmother toward the hearth, farther from Sir John.

  She realized she was defending her uncle—and that she wanted to defend him. Was it not inexplicable? Yet he had treated her far better than anyone in the Comyn family had ever done. She did not need a guard—she would obey him if he merely asked. Surely, she was not a prisoner.

  “I do not recognize the earl anymor
e,” Eleanor said. “The young man I once liked has grown up into a ruthlessly ambitious man.”

  “He has been kind to me,” Alana began.

  “Oh, child! He is tossing you crumbs, and you devour them as if they are an entire loaf! The earl is using you for his own ends. He does not care that you are his niece.”

  How her grandmother’s words hurt—and how they rang true. Alana refused to listen to her now. “He has suggested he will return Brodie Castle to me if I please him with a vision.”

  Eleanor cried out. She finally said, “And what if your vision is not what he expects? What if the future is not to his liking?”

  She could not have a vision that he did not like. Fate could not be so cruel. “Gran, I must see a good future for the earldom!”

  Her grandmother said, very low, “Perhaps you should create the vision he seeks.”

  Alana started, her heart lurching. Speaking as low, she whispered, “I do not want to lie to him. He is my uncle.”

  “Do not be deceived. He does not care about any blood ties!”

  Alana tensed. “I am not sure of that.”

  “Please, Alana, be wary of him.” Eleanor took her hand. “I know how much you yearn for affection from that family. I know how you hope for it. But you must keep your wits about you—now more so than ever.”

  Eleanor was the wisest person Alana knew, and she sensed she was right—though she wished that wasn’t so.

  “Mistress Alana.” The knight came forward. “The earl has told me you are allowed five minutes and that time is over. You must return to your chamber.”

  “Already?”

  “You will be allowed to walk in the afternoon—and to sup with his lordship this evening,” Sir John said.

  Alana suddenly realized the extent of her confinement. “Gran—are you well cared for?” she asked quickly as the knight took her arm.

  Eleanor nodded. “I am fine, Alana. But it is you we must worry about. I am praying for you. The sooner you have a vision pleasing to the earl, the sooner we will be able to go home.”

  With dismay, Alana comprehended her meaning exactly. She sent her grandmother a last smile, and went with Sir John up the stairs.