By Honor Bound Part 42

No, Patric thought, you misunderstood him. It was Lulach who won this day. At the end Lulach found within himself a true man's valor and faced you without flinching, while you, my n.o.ble king, had to defeat him by treachery.

"Let us go from here," Conal said, touching Patric's shoulder.

"Aye." Patric pulled his horse around, and together he and Conal and Nechtan made their way back to their own tents.

31 April 1058. Moray and Laggan. "My oath to Duncan is fulfilled. Malcolm sits firmly upon the throne of Alba, and I am free at last. Now I must find Elen before Malcolm does," Patric said. "I know him; he'll go after Gertha as soon as he has finished celebrating this victory, and if he finds Elen, too, he will kill her along with the others. I cannot let her die."

"Go now, before he comes back from the battlefield," Conal advised. "Take just a few of your men with you-you will be able to move faster that way-and order the rest to march back to Laggan at once. I'l make some excuse to Malcolm for you."

"What excuse?" Patric laughed cynically. "Malcolm will accept none."

"I think he will be too happy about his victory over Lulach to be very angry with you. Malcolm knows you are loyal in spite of this disagreement. Once you and your men-at-arms are safe at Laggan, behind your mountains, I wager he'll do nothing but send you a few angry letters and then forget the incident."

Patric did as Conal suggested. He put Nechtan in charge of the fighting men he had brought from Laggan, with orders to march home as quickly as possible. Then he took his personal servant Resad and two men-at-arms and rode toward the northwest.

They had not traveled very far before night fell, but Patric was comforted by the knowledge that Malcolm could not start after Gertha before the next day, possibly even later. In the meantime, he would locate his runaway wife and take her to safety.

He and his men were mounted and riding again as the first light streaked the sky. They found the women shortly before noon. They sat on a hilltop and watched four overloaded baggage carts and a dozen horses and riders plod slowly along the road below them.

"They don't escape very fast, do they?" said Resad.

"They're d.a.m.ned lucky we aren't a troop of Malcolm's men. If we were, they'd be dead by now. They don't even have a decent guard posted."

"What do we do now, my lord?"

"Follow them. There is only one person among them that I'm interested in. I'd like to see the others get safely to Burghead. I'm sure that is where they are going, and once they are there, the men of Moray will protect Gertha and her children from Malcolm."

They trailed behind the ragged little caravan, keeping out of sight. Soon the carts and horses stopped by a stream. The horses were being watered, while the fugitives ate a light meal. Patric and his men did the same.

"Now we begin to be lucky," Patric said softly, as the carts set off again, leaving five horses and their riders lingering beside the stream. Patric recognized Drust and Ava, and two fighting men. The fifth person was Elen. "There is the one I want. Let the main party get a little farther ahead of them. We will do this with as little bloodshed as possible."

Elen's people had finished watering their horses and were about to ride on when Patric and his men charged them with swords drawn. Drust saw them first. With a loud warning cry, he spurred his horse forward to meet them. One of Patric's men dealt him a slashing blow. Drust tumbled to the ground, clutching at his bleeding arm and trying to roll to one side, out of the way of his falling horse. Patric's man raised his arm to finish him. Elen forced her horse between Drust and the other man, risking her life to save her faithful servant.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Leave him alone!"

"Angus, hold!" Patric caught at his man's arm in the nick of time, preventing him from killing Elen. "Put down your swords and you won't be harmed," he shouted at Drust's two men. He was much relieved when they quickly obeyed him.

Ava was on her knees weeping hysterically over Drust. Elen slipped off her horse and went to them.

"It's not so bad," Drust said, his hand over the cut.

"No, it only needs to be bound tightly to stop the blood," Elen agreed. "Ava, get those linen cloths out of my saddlebag."

Ava paid no attention to her, but continued to cry loudly. Elen stood looking down at Ava and Drust with a white, set face. They had all been captured so easily, and now Patric would take them back to Malcolm. All of their lives were forfeit, Gertha and her children might well be caught with equal ease, and all Ava could think to do was weep. It was too much for Elen's badly strained nerves. Suddenly she lifted her hand and slapped Ava so hard that the woman went sprawling onto the ground.

"There is no need for that, lady," Drust said quietly, reaching out his good arm to Ava. "She is onlyworried about me.""Is this what you want?" Patric handed Elen the linen. She took it without a word and without looking at him. She was ashamed of what she had just done. Ava was plainly terrified and could not help crying.Now Elen became aware of Patric's men and her own servants standing about eyeing each other tensely.She pulled herself together and bound Drust's arm, stanching the blood, and then she stood, still notlooking at Patric.

"I a.s.sume I am your prisoner," she said, expecting him to order all of them bound. She was surprised he

had not done so at once.

Patric said nothing. He was still behind her. She heard his in drawn breath. He seized her left wrist, raising it until her sleeve fell back, revealing the gold bracelet he had once given her.

"So," he said softly, and dropped her wrist."If you are going to kill me, do it quickly," she told him."Malcolm advised me to strangle you," Patric said, "and for a while I was tempted to take his advice."Elen gulped. She saw the desperation on Drust's face, the fear in Ava's eyes. She knew there was no hope of rescue. Gertha had made them all agree that anyone who lagged behind was on his own. Gertha had not enough men with her to protect everyone, and the safety of her son Maelsnechta was of paramount importance.

"Now that I see you, I'm not sure just what to do with you," Patric added.Elen turned and faced him at last, looking full into his eyes. She had not forgotten how handsomehe was, how exciting. She fought the urge to throw herself into his arms."What about these others?" she asked."They did help you to escape me, did they not ' Malcolm would say they should die for that.""Let them go," she said, "and I will go with you peacefully and face whatever punishment I must endure without a struggle.""You will go with me whether I let them go or not.""Drust was Talcoran's aide for years, and he and his men have been faithful to me. Ava has been my maid since I was fifteen years old. I cannot let harm come to them because of me.""You should have thought of that before you led them astray.""Patric." Elen tried to think of some plea that would move the granite-faced man before her. She found it in the past. "Do you remember Bancho of Lochaber?""I do.""Once, long ago, Bancho let you take your men, and three little princes, out of Alba. He did it because it was the honorable thing to do. The deed eventually cost him his life. Had he known the price, he would

still have done it. If you remember Bancho, you "know that I speak the truth.""Let these people go, in Bancho's memory. You owe that debt. They can do little harm to Malcolm, andlittle good to Gertha, but their lives matter to me."

She thought she would die of anxiety before he answered her, so heavily did her heart beat, so hard did his blue eyes stare into hers, searching, searching. For what? There was nothing in her for him to find.

She was empty. Lulach was dead. All hope was gone for her own life. She could only try

to save the lives of the servants who had been her friends for so long.

"That same Bancho," Patric mused, "was most foully murdered by order of your beloved Macbeth. Yet you have remained loyal to Macbeth and his heir over Malcolm."

"Is Malcolm perfect?" Elen asked, a touch of acid in her voice in spite of the need to placate Patric. "I heard of the ambush Malcolm planned for Lulach. I can guess how Lulach died."

Patric winced. "No one is perfect, least of all a king.""Set them free. Please."Patric forced his eyes away from Elen's face and looked at Drust."Can you ride?""Aye, my lord. The wound is but a simple cut.""Then take a message to Gertha. Tell her Elen of Laggan has returned to her husband. Tell her we bothwish her well."

"Thank you," Elen whispered.

Ava brought the small bundle that was all of clothes or other possessions Elen had left, and gave it to oneof Patric's men to fasten at Elen's saddle. Drust mounted Ava's horse and lifted her up behind him,taking his own injured animal by the reins, to lead it without burden. Patric nodded, and his men steppedback, allowing Drust's men to reach and mount their own horses.

"Good-bye, mistress." Ava wept.

"Good-bye," Elen said, fighting back her own tears. "G.o.d keep you safe. Drust-oh, Drust-"

"G.o.d keep you, too, my lady." Drust wheeled his horse, and he and his men rode away.

"Now, my lord," Elen said to Patric when the others were safely gone, "kill me quickly and be done with it."

"Did I say I was going to kill you?"

"You are Malcolm's man. I told you, I know what he did to Lulach, that treacherous ambush. I alsoknow what you did to Lulach's camp. A rider came to us, a barber-surgeon who escaped you and yourmurderous henchmen. He told us how you killed as many as you could and drove the rest back like cattleto face Malcolm. You led the attack. How I hate you for that."

Elen's voice broke. She tried to control herself. She would not weep before this enemy. Patric must not know how weak and tired she felt, nor must he guess how confused her feelings toward him were. She had thought she loved him until she had heard of the attack on Lulach. Now she did not know what she felt. It tore at her heart to believe he had been party to such a cruel and dishonorable trick.

"You believe that story?" Patric was glaring at her.

"I know what happened, you brute. Go on, kill me. Women, babies, and defenseless old men are yourfavorite victims, aren't they?" She spread her arms wide and waited.

"Get on your horse," Patric ordered in tones of utter disgust. "You d.a.m.ned fool, mount, I said! Resad,help her, she looks like she's going to faint. If I touch her, G.o.d knows what I'll do to her."

Elen got into the saddle somehow. Patric and his men closed about her so she could not escape, and they moved off in the opposite direction from the one taken by Drust.

Patric drove them hard. He was eager to reach the safety of his own lands. He spoke to Elen only when it was absolutely necessary. When they stopped at nightfall she faced him as bravely as she could.

"This is not the way to Malcolm's camp," she said. "We are going in the wrong direction."

He did not answer her.

"Where are you taking me, my lord?""Laggan," he answered shortly."I thought I was Malcolm's prisoner. Am I yours instead?"Patric shrugged and said nothing."What are you going to do with me?""I haven't decided yet.""Patric." She laid a hand on his arm. He removed it as if it were an unpleasant insect.

"Sleep," he said. "We rise at dawn."

The men took turns keeping watch. They watched Elen as well as standing guard against attack, and she slept little, knowing their eyes were always upon her.

She grew more and more frightened as they traveled southward. If Patric had killed her quickly when he found her, she could have borne it. She had been certain Malcolm would win against Lulach, and she had been prepared to die when that happened. She had thought Patric would be merciful and it would be over with one swift stroke of his sword. This silent ride with her cold, distant husband was terrifying. She wondered how he would punish her. Men had been known to lock disobedient wives into small rooms and keep them there until they died. Perhaps that would be her fate. Or he might turn her over to Malcolm, to face a mock trial and a traitor's death, The uncertainty ate at her frayed nerves.

"Your master is a cold man," she said to Resad on the second night, while they shared a loaf of hard oatbread and some warm ale for the evening meal. "He is cold and cruel."

"You know nothing about him, lady." Resad's voice was sharp. "It is because of my master that you, andthe lady Gertha and her children, are still alive." Then he told her how Patric had sent Nechtan to warn Lulach. "That is why the women and children were sent away before the battle began,"

Resad finished.

"Lulach was still ambushed." "He and his men went prepared. They inflicted more damage on Malcolm's army than anyone expected. Because of my master, your Lulach died like a man, not an animal, and all the women and children got away."

"I don't believe this. Patric loves Malcolm. He would never do such a thing."

"Ask Nechtan when you see him. He is the one who went to Lulach." Resad went away, leaving Elen to her thoughts.

They reached Laggan at sunset the next day. "I thought it was ruined," Elen said. "It looks the same. No, it has changed. There, the north wall. Patric, what have you done to my home?"

"We'll talk later." Patric spurred his horse and rode ahead, leaving Elen with Resad.

"Will you tell me what he has done to Laggan?" she asked.

"He spent last autumn and the winter repairing all of the damage Malcolm's soldiers did, so it would beready when you came home," Resad answered.

"But he knew I would never come home again."

"Not so, lady." Resad's mouth twitched before he resumed his customary serious demeanor. "He has always believed you would return. You have, and Laggan is ready for you."