Love Above All Read online

  “Abercorn is so small that we all know each other. I’ll see if Janet is ready to join you. Mother Hroswitha sent one of the sisters to the dorter to fetch her.” Sister Mariad vanished through the inner door.

  Cup in hand, Fionna wandered to the window, expecting to see the ship Royce had noticed earlier continuing its progress up the firth. But the ship had drawn closer to the shore near Abercorn, and had put out a small boat, which two men were rowing directly toward the beach below the abbey. A third man sat in the stern and, though Fionna couldn’t see his face, she made a shrewd guess as to his identity. If she was right, and Colum had returned to Scotland, then getting Janet away from Abercorn had become a matter of desperate urgency.

  She was just turning from the window when a bit of raised decoration on the silver cup she was holding caught the light. Her hand shook so badly from the surprise of recognition that she spilled some of the cider.

  “I should have noticed it at once,” she muttered. “Royce would have noticed; he has trained himself not to miss important little details.”

  She held the cup higher, turning it around, looking at it closely to be sure. She had seen the cup before, during her childhood. It had arrived at Dungalash as part of the dowry of Murdoch’s first wife, a sweet girl who had tried to be kind to the motherless Fionna and Janet. She had lasted less than a year before she died while delivering a stillborn child. Murdoch had quickly remarried.

  Fionna had forgotten about the cup until this hour. Apparently, it had been donated to Abercorn, either by Janet’s father, in partial compensation for her admission to the abbey school, or later, as a gift from Murdoch, who wanted Janet kept at the abbey until he was ready to use his sister for his own purposes.

  Her thoughts awhirl, Fionna regarded the cup, seeing in it proof of a sinister connection between Dungalash and Abercorn. When Murdoch lavished gifts, he expected an ample return. With a barely repressed shiver Fionna set the half-full cup down on the table. Mother Hroswitha had said Janet was to be removed from Abercorn on the morrow and was to be married, presumably soon thereafter. The abbess was clearly suspicious of “Lady Ursula,” as if she knew and was trying to conceal something she assumed the noble visitor did not know. And a man was being put ashore near Abercorn. Fionna did not require any great skill as a spy to put the facts together.

  “We’ve come just in time,” she said to herself. Her heart began to hammer hard and rapidly. It was possible that Colum would come directly to Abercorn to claim Janet as soon as he landed. Or Murdoch and Gillemore could change their minds and arrive a day early. Either way, a prompt departure from Abercorn was essential. No one knew better than Fionna how violent Murdoch could become when he believed someone was trying to thwart his schemes.

  “Where is Janet?” Fionna paced back to the window. The little boat was still being rowed toward shore. “We only have half an hour, surely no more than that. Why doesn’t Janet come?”

  Then, abruptly, Janet was in the room. When Fionna had last seen her, Janet was a little girl. Now she was sixteen years old and much changed. Fionna’s heart lurched, then steadied. She’d have recognized her sister anywhere.

  Janet’s youthful figure was well hidden by her shapeless grey robe. Her red hair, which was lighter and brighter in color and much more curly than Fionna’s hair, was uncovered and worn in twin braids. Janet’s face was cold with anger, and so pale that the sprinkling of freckles across her nose showed clearly. Both of her fists were tightly clenched. Mother Hroswitha and Sister Mariad hovered just behind her.

  “I have been told a scheming liar has come to Abercorn, claiming to be my sister,” Janet said, addressing herself to Fionna. “My sister is dead. How dare you pretend to be her?”

  “I am not dead. Look at me, Janet.” Fionna stepped closer, longing to embrace the girl but not daring to while Janet and the two nuns were all glaring at her and looking as if they were ready to call down the wrath of heaven on her head. Fionna seized Janet’s hands in a tight grip and spoke with urgent force. “Look into my face and my eyes and see your own, dear sister. Yes, Janet, it is Ursula. It is!”

  “What do you mean, Ursula? I don’t know—” Suddenly, Janet was weaving on her feet, looking as if she was about to faint. “Dear heaven, it is you! My sister is alive! Murdoch told me you were dead.”

  “Murdoch was mistaken,” Fionna said, not asking how Murdoch had gained entrance where men were not allowed. By another gift, no doubt. “I am very much alive, and I have come to wish you happy in your marriage to Colum.”

  “Marriage? To Colum?”

  Janet’s complexion turned even more waxy-pale, her reaction confirming Fionna’s suspicion that while Murdoch had probably taken great delight in telling Janet of Fionna’s supposed death, he was planning to wait until the last moment to inform her of her impending wedding to a man she loathed and feared. Being Murdoch, he’d most likely find great pleasure in Janet’s panic-stricken reaction to the news.

  Janet tore her hands from Fionna’s grasp and fell forward, resting her head on Fionna’s shoulder. Fionna clasped her close, the joyful tears flowing. With her lips against Fionna’s ear, Janet whispered just two words.

  “Help me.”

  “I will,” Fionna whispered back under the guise of a kiss to Janet’s cheek. Then she began to disengage herself from Janet’s clinging embrace in preparation for what she must do next.

  “Mother Hroswitha,” Fionna said, “may I beg for a short time alone with my sister? As you have just heard, Janet believed me dead. We have so much to say to each other, so many explanations to make, and I want her to go happily to her wedding tomorrow.” She lifted wet eyes to look at the abbess.

  “Tomorrow?” Janet’s voice was a terrified whimper. “I am to marry Colum tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and I have come to wish you joy.” As Fionna spoke she caught Janet’s face between her hands, seeing the hope and fear mingled in her sister’s blue gaze. She tried to convey a silent message to the girl, wanting her to go along with what she was about to do, and not make any protest. Before Fionna could say anything more, the abbess spoke.

  “In less than an hour the next prayer service will begin,” Mother Hroswitha said. “The bell will ring when it is time. You may have until then. If you wish, Lady Ursula, you may join us at the service, but immediately afterward Janet must return to her duties. From what you have told me, I understand your stay here is to be a brief one.”

  “A very brief stay, Mother Abbess. I must depart for Carlisle. Thank you for the invitation. I will be happy to join you at prayers before I leave. Janet can show me the way to the church. Thank you again for your kindness.”

  “Make the most of the time I have granted you,” Mother Hroswitha said. “Come along, Sister Mariad.”

  The instant the door closed on the two nuns, Janet pulled out of Fionna’s restraining hands to face her in unconcealed fury.

  “What are you about?” Janet cried in a ringing voice. “My sister, Ursula? You are not—”

  She got no further before Fionna clapped one hand over her mouth and wrapped a confining arm around Janet’s shoulders. Holding her struggling sister tightly, Fionna dragged her across the reception room, toward the outer door and away from anyone listening behind the inner door.

  “No, Janet dear, as you can see, I am not dead,” Fionna said in her normal, clear voice for the benefit of any eavesdropper. “It was all a dreadful mistake, which I intend to explain to you.”

  In a frantic whisper, Fionna added, “Unless you want to marry Colum, be quiet and listen. Don’t say a word in argument until I have finished, for we haven’t much time. I believe Colum is at this moment landing from the ship that brought him back from France. If he decides to come directly to the abbey instead of meeting Murdoch first, he’ll be here shortly, probably before the beginning of the prayer service we are supposed to attend. He’s on the beach just below the abbey.”

  Janet’s eyes went wide in horror. She nodded and Fionna took h
er hand away from the girl’s mouth. At once Fionna embarked on a hasty explanation.

  “Murdoch told you I was dead because he thinks he murdered me. I’ll tell you about that later, when we have more time. All you need to know just now is that a band of honest knights is with me. We’ll get you out of Abercorn and set you free of Murdoch, and of Colum.” Fionna held up a hand to silence the startled protest she saw forming on her sister’s lips. “Two armed men are waiting in the entry hall. They will protect us. All we have to do is open the door and walk out. If we go now, quietly and without alarming the nuns, there’s a good chance we’ll have half an hour, possibly longer, to get away before anyone notices we are gone.”

  “We cannot outwit Murdoch. It’s madness to try,” Janet whispered.

  “It’s the only chance you have,” Fionna whispered back.

  “No, it’s not,” Janet argued. “There is another way. I can profess my vows as a nun.”

  “Don’t imagine holy vows will stop Murdoch. Even if they would, do you really want to become a nun?” Fionna demanded. “I am deeply distressed that you would consider such a step. I can tell you, Janet, there is a world beyond Dungalash or Abercorn, a world in which men don’t continually abuse women in order to gain their own pleasure, or force women and children to live in dire poverty while the men have all the clothing and fine armor, and all the food they want. I’ve seen a bit of that world, and I want you to see it, too.”

  “I need time to think.” Janet spoke much too loudly.

  “Hush! Hush, my dear. We don’t have time for you to debate and argue. You must decide now, this moment. But I warn you, if you remain here, the only vows you will be allowed to profess will be your marriage vows to Colum.”

  “Murdoch wouldn’t dare take a nun away from an abbey!” Janet cried. “He knows if he did, he’d be guilty of a terrible sin.”

  “Murdoch dared to attempt to murder me,” Fionna said. “Which is the greater sin? Your choice is simple, Janet. Stay here and be married to Colum by force – and bedded by force – or come away with me now.”

  “Oh, Fionna.” Janet put out her hand to clasp her sister’s fingers. “This is all so unexpected. How can I decide something so important, so quickly?”

  “Fionna?” The door to the entry hall opened and Quentin appeared. “I heard raised voices and thought you might need help. So, this is Janet? There can be little doubt you are sisters.” He smiled at Janet, who shrank away from the tall man in chainmail.

  “Couldn’t you have waited a moment longer?” Fionna cried, exasperated. “She was almost convinced, and now you’ve frightened her.”

  “I am not afraid!” Janet declared in a loud voice. “I merely want to be certain of what I am doing, before I do it. And I want to know with whom I am doing it. I have never seen this man before. How do I know he’s a friend?”

  “Because I say he is,” Fionna told her, striving for patience. “This is Lord Quentin, who is pledged to keep us safe. Please, Janet, come away now!”

  But Janet had seen Cadwallon looming behind Quentin. She pulled her hand out of Fionna’s grasp and headed for the inner door.

  “Janet, no! Wait!” Fionna cried, just as the door swung open and Mother Hroswitha entered the room.

  “What is the meaning of this noisy intrusion?” Mother Hroswitha demanded. Catching sight of Quentin and Cadwallon, she strode toward them with fire in her eyes. “Male visitors are to remain in the entry hall. Get back there, both of you!” She lifted her hand and pointed, clearly expecting to be obeyed without question.

  “Are you the Mother Abbess?” Quentin asked, standing his ground.

  “I am. And I insist that you leave Abercorn at once. As for you,” Mother Hroswitha said, turning on Fionna, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself for forcing your way in here to disturb poor Janet.”

  “Mother Abbess, can you read?” Quentin asked.

  “I can. What has that to do with your presence where no man ought to be?”

  “Please read these documents.” Quentin handed two folded pieces of parchment to Mother Hroswitha. “I insist that you read them immediately, for I am compelled to be elsewhere within the hour, and I must take these two ladies with me.”

  “You are welcome to remove this Ursula person, but to take Janet away just before her brother is to arrive? I won’t allow it.” Mother Hroswitha drew herself up in obvious preparation for a battle of wills.

  “What I do, I do on command of your king,” Quentin told her. “Please, read those documents.”

  With a deep frown, Mother Hroswitha unfolded the first piece of parchment. Fionna began to question just how well she could read, for she spent a long time staring at the document. Meanwhile, conscious of the boat that surely had reached shore by now and eager to be gone from the abbey, Fionna began to fret. She cast a warning glance at Quentin, wishing he could guess her thoughts.

  “This says merely that you are the representative of King Henry of England,” Mother Hroswitha declared, handing the document back to Quentin.

  “The other parchment bears the seal of the king of the Scots,” Quentin said. “Shall I read it to you?” He held out his hand.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Mother Hroswitha slapped the second parchment into Quentin’s palm. “Just how do you expect me to deal with Janet’s brother when he arrives? Or with her intended bridegroom?”

  “Simply tell him his sister has no wish to marry Colum,” Quentin said. “Come along, Janet.”

  “No, I won’t go with you,” Janet declared, facing Quentin with flashing eyes. “I don’t know you. How do I know you aren’t forcing Fionna to obey you against her will? I’ll need a better explanation for your unseemly haste before I will consent to leave the safety of this abbey in your company.”

  “Janet, I am at my wits’ end!” Fionna shouted at her. “I keep telling you, we have no time for argument. Please, I beg of you, just trust me, and I will explain everything later.”

  “Who is Fionna?” asked Mother Hroswitha.

  “You are leaving right now,” Quentin told Janet.

  “I am not! If I decide to go, I will want to bid farewell to the other girls in the school first. I’ll also want to thank the nuns who have been so kind to me while my sister stayed away and allowed me to believe she was dead!” Janet informed them. “Then I’ll have to gather up my belongings and pack them.”

  “There isn’t time for this,” Quentin said between clenched teeth.

  “I don’t care where you are expected within the hour,” Janet said, lifting her chin in challenge. “I will leave Abercorn when I am ready, and not a moment before.”

  “That’s it!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “I’ve heard enough.”

  Cadwallon marched into the reception room, moving Mother Hroswitha aside to get to Janet. Before Janet could move out of his way, Cadwallon grabbed her by an arm and a leg and slung her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down!” Janet shrieked.

  “Let’s go,” Cadwallon said to Quentin. “I assume you have no objection to such unceremonious treatment of a recalcitrant lady?”

  “No objection whatsoever,” Quentin responded with a smile to match Cadwallon’s grin. “I only wish I had thought of it, myself.”

  “This is a vicious, unwarranted assault!” Mother Hroswitha declared, stepping in front of Cadwallon to block his way to the door.

  “As Lord Quentin has said, it’s by the king’s order,” Cadwallon told her. “If you doubt us, read that second parchment.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mother Hroswitha was beginning to look a bit uncertain, as if she was starting to believe the claims to royal authority. “What shall I tell Janet’s brother when he comes for her?”

  “Tell Murdoch to speak to King Alexander about his sister,” Quentin said. “Better yet, tell him to take to the highlands and stay there.”

  “Let me go!” Janet screamed, pounding her free fist against Cadwallon’s back. He laughed and brushed past Mother Hroswitha to stalk out of th
e abbey’s main door as if the burden he carried weighed nothing at all.

  “Come on, Cousin Ursula,” Quentin said. He took Fionna’s arm in a firm grip. “It’s past time we were leaving.”

  “Mother Hroswitha,” Fionna said, digging in her heels to prevent Quentin from dragging her out of the reception room, “I am sorry about the uproar we caused, but it couldn’t be helped. Janet always was one to argue and quibble before making a decision.”

  “Indeed,” said the abbess. She followed them into the entry hall, but made no attempt to stop them from leaving. “I will tell Lord Murdoch so when he asks for his sister.” With that, she slammed the front door shut just as Quentin dragged Fionna out of the abbey.

  “Quentin, there is something you must know at once,” Fionna said, pulling him to a stop when he would have rushed to their horses. “The ship we noticed in the firth is putting a man ashore just below the abbey. I saw the rowboat through the reception room window.”

  “And you are guessing the man is Colum?” Quentin said. “Well, perhaps you were correct to expect his arrival when you first saw that ship.”

  “What’s more, according to Mother Abbess, Murdoch is due at the abbey tomorrow, to take Janet to her wedding,” she revealed. “Unless he comes earlier.”

  “All the more reason for us to be gone from here at once.”

  Together they made for their horses, but Quentin paused to look at Cadwallon, who sat his mount with Janet laid face-down in front of the saddle. She was still kicking and yelling. Cadwallon held the reins of the spare horse.

  “Doesn’t the lady know how to ride?” Quentin called, laughing.

  “I’m sure she does,” Cadwallon answered with a broad grin, “but she threatened to escape if I gave her a horse of her own. I’ll carry her this way for a while, and tie her up later.”

  That remark brought another offended screech from Janet. In response Cadwallon slapped her across her well-rounded bottom.

  “Don’t hurt her!” Fionna cried, torn between relief to have Janet out of Abercorn and concern for her frightened sister.