Border: The Border Vixen Part 1

Border.

The Border Vixen.

Bertrice Small.

For Aneta, who keeps me sane.

A note for my readers: Aisir nam Breug is p.r.o.nounced:.

Asher nam Breg.

Prologue.

SCOTLAND, 1536.

Mad Maggie Kerr could outride, outrun, outfight, out-drink, and outswear any man in the Borders. These were not, however, the virtues a gentleman looked for in a wife. But if a man liked a tall la.s.s with dark chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a fat dower, then perhaps Mad Maggie could be considered acceptable-for those reasons and the fact she was Dugald Kerr's only heir, and Dugald Kerr controlled the Aisir nam Breug.

The Aisir nam Breug was a deep, narrow pa.s.sage through the border hills between Scotland and England. No one could recall a time when this transit had not been managed by the Scots Kerrs at its north end and the English Kerrs at its south end. Payment of a single toll gave the traveler the guarantee of a safe trip from one side of the border to the other. Merchants and messengers, bridal parties, and other voyagers all used the Aisir nam Breug. Warring factions did not. It had been an unspoken agreement for several centuries that the Aisir nam Breug could be used only for peaceful travel.

Management of this resource had made the Kerr family wealthy over the years. They did not, however, flaunt their wealth, but their home, set upon a low hill, was more a small castle than a tower or manor house. And the village at the foot of that hill had an air of comfortable prosperity about it that was unique in the Borders. They were loyal to the king and always ready to aid a neighbor. The Kerrs of Brae Aisir were considered both honorable and trustworthy.

But the old laird was certainly in his final days. He was the last legitimate male in his line, with a stubborn girl just turned seventeen as his only heir. And despite her reputation, which had earned her the sobriquet of Mad Maggie, Dugald Kerr needed to find his granddaughter a husband-a man who would be strong enough to hold the Aisir nam Breug for the son he would sire on Mad Maggie. It would not be an easy task, but the laird of Brae Aisir knew exactly the kind of man who could tame his la.s.s. Finding him was another matter, however, and this man would also have to win her respect, for Maggie was proud.

"He must be able to outride, outrun, and outfight her," Dugald Kerr declared to David, his younger brother, who was the family's priest.

"I suppose yer right, Brother," David Kerr said with a small smile, "but 'twill nae be easy finding such a man. I shall have to pray mightily on this."

The laird gave a snort of laughter. "Aye," he agreed, "ye will."

"How will ye go about it, Brother?" the priest inquired.

"I'll give a feast and invite all the neighbors. Then I'll announce my intentions to them. I know Maggie frightens many of them, for she is outspoken and headstrong, but surely the lure of the Aisir nam Breug will tempt them to overlook these faults."

"She's nae as bad as she pretends," Father David said. "Yer household runs smoothly because of her. She knows how to direct the servants and care for the sick. She's nae fearful of hard work. I've seen her myself in yer fields, and working with the women salting meat for the winter, and making jams."

"She'd rather hunt the meat than prepare it," the laird said with a chuckle.

"Aye, Brother, she would," the priest agreed. "But she can do what a woman with a large household needs to do. She will make the right lad a fine wife. But I don't believe you'll find that lad among the Borders, Dugald."

"I must begin my search somewhere," the laird of Brae Aisir said.

Chapter 1.

"The hall is full, I suppose," Maggie Kerr said to her tiring woman, Grizel.

"Aye," came the tart reply. "All come to stuff themselves and get drunk at yer grandfather's board," Grizel snorted. "Armstrongs and Elliots, Bruces and Fergusons, Scotts and Bairds who are forever telling the story of how their ancestor saved the life of King William the Lion and thus gained their lands. There are a few Lindsays, and Hays too, and nae one of them fit to wipe the mud from yer boot, my darling la.s.s."

"Maybe I'll nae join them," Maggie said. "I dislike being presented as Grandsire's prize mare." She reached for the cake of scented soap on the rim of her tall oak bathing tub and rubbed it slowly over her arm. "I don't want to marry, and I am more than capable of holding the Aisir nam Breug myself without interference from a stranger calling himself my lord and master. Jesu, why wasn't I born a lad?"

"Because ye were born a la.s.s," Grizel said matter-of-factly. "Now finish yer bath. Ye have to get down to the hall sooner than later. I'll nae let you shame your grandsire, my dearie. Nor would ye do it. Ye know yer duty better than any."

Then Grizel went and laid out the burgundy velvet gown that Maggie would wear that evening. It was high-waisted and had a low scooped neckline that revealed most of her shoulders. The tight-fitting sleeves and the hem of the gown were trimmed in dark marten. The servant set out a pair of round-toed sollerets covered in the same velvet as the gown and burgundy silk stockings with matching garters.

As Maggie stepped out of her tub, Grizel hurried to wrap her in a warmed towel. "Sit down, and let me prepare you. Then we'll put on your chemise, and you can choose the jewels you would wear. You should show to your best advantage, my dearie."

"G.o.d's b.a.l.l.s!" Maggie swore. "Ye too, Grizel? I don't care if one of those fools asks for my hand or not. I don't want a husband, and I shall make it very difficult for any man to please me enough to win my favor." She pulled on her soft linen chemise.

Smiling to herself, Grizel gently pushed the girl down on a stool and began to brush out her hair while Maggie dried her feet. "Yer a Kerr," she said as she plied the boar bristles through Maggie's thick chestnut-colored tresses. "Ye'll do what ye must for the good of the family."

Maggie snorted at her tiring woman's words. Grizel was like a mother to her, as her own mother had perished giving birth to her, and her father had died in a border clash six months before she was born. Grizel had lost her husband in that same fray, and her own infant son about the time Maggie entered the world. Grandsire had brought the nineteen-year-old widow up from the village to wet-nurse his new granddaughter. She had been born strong, Dugald Kerr said. There had been no doubt she would survive.

And when she no longer needed nourishment from Grizel's teat, the wet nurse had remained to raise the child for the laird of Brae Aisir. Maggie loved Grizel dearly, and she hated to disappoint her. She would go into her grandsire's hall the coming evening and be shown to prospective buyers as if a blood mare at a horse fair, but she would wed no man who could not gain her respect. And there was none among the young men she knew who had ever even been able to command her attention. They were a rough-spoken lot, and she knew their only interest in her was the Aisir nam Breug. Maggie pulled on her silk stockings, fastening the ribbon garters to hold them up.

"Let's get yer gown on," Grizel said, and she helped Maggie into the rich, soft velvet, seeing that the tight fur-cuffed sleeves fitted without a wrinkle, then lacing up the garment. The high waist of the gown forced the girl's b.r.e.a.s.t.s up so that they were quite visible above the low neckline. The fabric of the skirt fell in graceful folds.

"Give me my rope of pearls," Maggie said.

Grizel opened the jewel casket and drew out the pearls as her young mistress picked out several rings, which she put on her fingers. The tiring woman slid the pearls over Maggie's head. "They look just lovely," she told the la.s.s.

"Braid my hair now in a single plait," Maggie instructed.

"I will nae do it!" Grizel said vehemently. "Yer grandsire said ye were to leave yer tresses loose this evening. I've a gold ribbon band with a small oval of polished red quartz for ye to wear as a headpiece."

"Christ Almighty! The mare is to be presented as never mounted," Maggie swore.

"Well, ye never have," Grizel said sharply, "though yer wild behavior has left many wondering. So ye'll do as yer told, Maggie Kerr, and nae shame yer grandsire or yer clan's good name this night."

Maggie laughed. Grizel rarely scolded her so severely. "Oh, very well. My hair shall fall about me like that of a fourteen-year-old la.s.s, for not only am I willful, at seventeen I am fast growing out of my breeding cycle," Maggie teased the older woman. "So let my suitors think I am a helpless creature. If they would delude themselves."

Now it was Grizel who laughed. But then she secured Maggie's long hair with the gold ribbon band. "Put yer shoes on, and yer ready to make yer entrance," she said.

Maggie slipped her feet into the pretty slippers, then stood up. "You realize," she said to Grizel, "that I will frighten all those clansmen in the hall with my grand entry. I'm not the usual border woman in her one good gown trying to please. I'm the heiress to Brae Aisir, and I won't let them forget it."

"Dinna," Grizel replied. "The man who wins you will love you and respect your position. He must be worthy of you, my la.s.s. You must nae accept a lesser man. Beware, however, of those who will try to seduce you to gain an advantage over you."

Maggie laughed. "I have managed to hold on to my virtue for seventeen years, Grizel. I will continue to hold it from those l.u.s.ting after my wealth, my body, and my family's power. I can tell you that I know the man I must eventually wed is nae in Grandsire's hall this night." She reached out to take the hand of the older woman. "Come along now, Grizel. To the hall! It should prove an amusing evening."

They left the girl's rooms and descended the winding stairs. Maggie's apartment was in the southwest corner of her grandfather's home. They entered the great hall, Grizel shoving the men crowding the large room aside so her mistress might get through to the high board, where her grandfather was awaiting her arrival.

Dugald Kerr watched her come. There was pride in his brown eyes, and his mouth quirked with his amus.e.m.e.nt. The wicked wench had dressed to intimidate, and by the open mouths he could now see as he looked out over his hall, she had been successful in her attempt. She was fair enough to evoke l.u.s.t in not just a few of the men there. But she did not come eyes downcast, shrinking away from his guests. She strode with the sureness of who she was-Margaret Kerr; his only heir, and closest blood relation other than his brother, David.

He was proud of her, especially because he had never expected that his frail, weak daughter-in-law, dead with Maggie's birth, could have given him any heir, let alone such a strong la.s.s as Maggie. His youngest son, Robert, had married Glynis Kerr, one of the Netherdale Kerrs. After several centuries, they were but distantly related. Unfortunately Glynis had proved frail. She lost two sons before Maggie had been born. When Robert had been killed in the early days of Glynis's confinement, Dugald Kerr had despaired.

His two older sons, their wives, and their children were dead. The eldest of his three sons, like the youngest, had died in the border wars. He had been newly wed, and his wife had not yet borne a bairn. She had returned to her family and made another marriage. His middle son had succ.u.mbed with his wife, and two little boys, to a winter epidemic. Robert had been sixteen then. A year later he was wed, and three years later he was dead. His wife, however, understanding the gravity of the family's situation, had forced her sorrow away from her until she could birth her child safely. But seeing her father-in-law's face when the child slid from her body, Glynis had whispered but two words, "I'm sorry," loosened her hold on life, and died.

Watching Glynis's daughter now make her way to the high board, Dugald Kerr wished Glynis had lived to see the magnificent heiress she and Robbie had given Brae Aisir. He smiled broadly as Maggie stepped up and, greeting her great-uncle David first, bent and kissed Dugald Kerr's ruddy cheek. Then she settled herself into the high-backed oak chair at his right hand and gazed out over the a.s.sembly.

"Is there anyone in the Borders not eating at your expense tonight, Grandsire?" she asked mischievously, her hazel eyes dancing wickedly.

"Yer husband might be among that pack of borderers, la.s.s," he replied, smiling at her. Maggie was, he had to admit to himself, his weakness. It was why he had allowed her to run rampant throughout the Borders. Her daring and independence delighted him, although he was wise enough to know it would not have in any other woman.

"There's nae a man in this hall tonight whom I would wed and bed, Grandsire," she told him candidly.

"It's a woman's place to marry," David Kerr said softly to her.

"Why? Because we are weak and frail vessels, Uncle? Because we are told that G.o.d created man first, and therefore we are less in his eyes? If we are less, then why is it our responsibility to bear new life to G.o.d's glory?" Maggie demanded of him.

"Why must ye always ask such d.a.m.ned intelligent questions, Niece?" the priest asked. His eyes, however, were dancing with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Because I love stymieing ye, Uncle. I refuse to fit the church's mold that women are lesser creatures, fit but to keep house and sp.a.w.n new souls. I do not want a husband taking precedence over me at Brae Aisir. I am perfectly capable of managing the Aisir nam Breug, and need no stranger to do it for me," Maggie said firmly.

"And when ye have left this earth, who will be left to care for the Aisir nam Breug, Maggie?" the laird asked her quietly.

She caught his hand up and kissed it. "We will be here forever, Grandsire," she said to him. "Ye and I will look after the Aisir nam Breug together."

"That is a child's reasoning," Dugald Kerr replied. "Yer no longer a child, Maggie. Ye need a husband to father a child upon ye. A child who will one day inherit what the Kerrs of Brae Aisir have kept safe for centuries. I will not force ye to the altar, but sooner or later ye must choose a man to wed. And I will help ye to find the right man, Granddaughter. One who will respect ye. One whom ye can respect."

"Nae in this hall tonight, Grandsire," she answered him.

"Perhaps ye are correct, but before we cast our nets afield, Maggie, we must give our neighbors the opportunity to woo ye," the laird said.

Maggie picked up the silver goblet studded in green malachite by her hand, and drank a healthy draft of the red wine in it. "I cannot gainsay ye, Grandsire," she told him. "Very well; let us see what we may find from this showing of lads all eager to win my hand, spend my fortune, and take my inheritance." And she laughed.

"G.o.d help the man who finally pleases ye," David Kerr said dryly.

The laird laughed and signaled his servants to begin bringing the meal. They streamed into the hall, bearing steaming platters, dishes, and bowls of food. The trestle tables below the high board where the three Kerrs sat had been set with linen cloths, polished pewter plates, and tankards filled with good strong ale. There were round loaves of bread upon the tables, small wheels of hard cheese, and crocks of sweet b.u.t.ter. The servants offered poultry, fish, boar, and venison, which the male guests greedily ate up. Few of the vegetables offered were consumed by the clansmen, who were content with well-cooked meat, fish, game, bread, and cheese.

At the high board the dishes were more varied, and while it was meat, game, and seafood, it was more delicately offered. Trout braised in white wine and set upon green watercress was offered along with a bowl of steamed prawns. There was a roasted duck stuffed with dried apples and bread, and roasts of lamb, boar, and venison. Bowls of peas and a salad of lettuces were presented. The high board had a large round cottage loaf, b.u.t.ter, and two cheeses-one from France that was soft and creamy, the other a good hard yellow cheese.

Maggie watched as the guests wolfed down everything offered to them and quaffed tankard after tankard of brown ale. Some of the men had more delicate manners than others. The clansmen barely mingled, sitting at their own tables and eyeing one another suspiciously. She wondered how long it would be before a fight would break out, but she knew her grandsire's men-at-arms now lining the hall could handle any unpleasant situation. The high board was cleared, and a sweet was brought for Maggie. Cook had made for her a custard with jam, which Maggie very much favored.

Her grandfather waited for her to finish the treat before he stood up. Instantly the hall quieted. " 'Tis good to have ye all here with us tonight," Dugald Kerr said, and he smiled down at them. He was a handsome man in his sixties not yet bowed by his years. He was clean shaven and had a full head of white hair cut short, a long face and nose, and sharp brown eyes. He wore a long dark tunic brocaded in gold and trimmed with marten. No one would have ever mistaken the laird of Brae Aisir for anything other than what he was-a wealthy man.

"As you must surely know, I am growing older," he began. "My only heir is my granddaughter, Margaret. I hope to find a husband for her among ye. However, I will not give her to another lightly. To win her hand ye must be able to outride, outrun, and outfight Maggie. Ye must win her respect. Now, should any of ye wish to put yerselves forth as a possible husband for my granddaughter, come and speak with me before ye depart on the morrow. The man who weds and beds my Maggie will one day control the Aisir nam Breug. But if I can find none among ye who suits her or me, know that I will look elsewhere, but the same conditions will apply. Now drink up, and let my piper entertain you all." Dugald Kerr sat back down.

A murmuring arose in the hall now, and Maggie almost laughed as speculative glances were cast in her direction by the men below. As it had been guessed that the laird of Brae Aisir was seeking a husband for his granddaughter, many of the other clan lords had come with the sons they had of marriageable age. And several of the lairds themselves were unmarried, or widowers seeking a second or third wife.

" 'Tis a goodly selection," her priestly great-uncle murmured. "Lord Hay's brother looks a possible match for you."

"I prefer a younger man whom I may control," Maggie said low. "One who will be content to let me do what needs doing while taking all the credit. I care naught for recognition. I just want the Aisir nam Breug managed properly. If I sp.a.w.n a son I can teach, then I will do so. But none out there looks to possess any wits at all."

"Ye cannot judge by just looking at them," her grandfather remarked. "Let the piper play, and dance with a few of them. Perhaps you will be surprised."

"More likely I will be disappointed, but I will take your advice, Grandsire," Maggie replied. Then rising, she called out, "Who will dance with me, my lords?" And she stepped from the dais to be suddenly surrounded by a group of eager males. Looking them all over with a bold eye she smiled, then addressed a young man with pale blond hair. "Ye will do to start with," she said, holding out a graceful hand.

He eagerly grasped the hand and said almost breathlessly, "Calum Lindsay, Mistress Maggie." His other arm slipped about her waist as the piper began to play a lively tune. He was unfortunately not a good dancer, tripping first over his own feet, and then hers. He looked to be no more than sixteen, and his Adam's apple bobbed nervously up and down in his throat as he concentrated on the quick steps of the country dance. Not once did he dare to meet her glance, for he found he was intimidated by the beautiful girl.

Maggie's chestnut brown hair was tossed about as they danced. It was impossible to engage Calum Lindsay in conversation, as she could see if he had to speak with her, he would lose his concentration with the dance. She was relieved when an older man stepped in to partner her, cutting the lad out to the boy's obvious relief. Maggie looked directly at the gentleman, recognizing the red plaid of Clan Hay. "And ye are?" she asked.

"Ewan Hay," he replied shortly as they capered across the hall with quick steps and turned sharply. He lifted her up, swinging her about before returning Maggie's feet to the floor. "I am twenty-eight, have never been wed, am a third son, and will speak with your grandsire on the morrow."

"Indeed," Maggie replied. "And think ye that ye can outride, outrun, and outfight me, Ewan Hay?"

"Yer a woman, for Christ's sake," he responded. "Oh, I've heard of yer reputation, but 'tis certainly bragging, madam, and nothing more."

Maggie laughed. "G.o.d's b.a.l.l.s, sir, what a fool ye be if ye believe that! Still, ye are welcome to speak with my grandsire. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to beat ye in all three contests."

Ewan Hay's face darkened with anger. "We will see, madam, just how ye fare in a contest with me. And when I have put ye in yer proper place, and wed ye, I shall on our wedding night take a st.u.r.dy hazel switch and whip the pride out of ye. Ye will learn how to behave like a proper wife in my charge."

"I would nae wed ye if ye were the last man on the face of the earth," Maggie said angrily. "Remember my words when I blood ye with my blade." When the music stopped she pulled away from him and returned to the high board.

"Yer flushed," Dugald Kerr noted. "Did Lord Hay's younger brother say something to distress ye?"

"He will sue for my hand, beat me in all three contests, and whip me with a hazel on our wedding night so I learn my proper place," Maggie told her grandsire and her great-uncle.

The laird's head snapped up. He looked about until he could find Ewan Hay, then glared at him. "I shall nae accept his suit," he said angrily.

"Nay, let him try to best me," Maggie said in a cold, even voice. "He is a man who wants public humiliation, and I shall enjoy giving it to him. Let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d try to beat me in fair combat. I shall enjoy shaming him before the rest of them."

"Be careful, Niece," David Kerr said warily.

"I will, Uncle," Maggie replied. She rose again. "Now, sirs, if ye will excuse me, I have had enough tonight and would beg yer leave to depart the hall."

"Ye have it," her grandfather said. "Rest well, my bairn."

Maggie departed the great hall, moving quickly through and past the tables below the board. She had eaten sparingly and drunk little. Tomorrow, when Ewan Hay sought to gain her hand in marriage, she intended pressing him into the battle immediately. Under the best of conditions she could beat him, but he had poured a lot of ale into himself tonight, and she didn't doubt for one moment that after their meeting he had been tempted to swill more like the pig he was. She smiled wickedly to herself. She must get to bed immediately. A good night's rest was necessary to teaching Lord Hay's younger brother the lesson he needed to learn.

Grizel was waiting for her, and she listened as Maggie shared the details of the evening with her. "That Hay laddie is too bold for my taste," she said.

"He won't be quite so bold by this time tomorrow," Maggie said grimly.

"Be careful, my la.s.s. A fellow like that is not to be trifled with, I fear," Grizel said. "They are said to be hard men, the Border Hays."