The Kadin Part 1

THE KADIN.

by BERTRICE SMALL.

Prologue April, 1484

GLENKIRK C CASTLB stood dark against the gray sky, its drawbridge down. Along the walls, men-at-arms paced slowly, always on guard. There was peace in the land, but yesterday's friend could easily became today's foe. stood dark against the gray sky, its drawbridge down. Along the walls, men-at-arms paced slowly, always on guard. There was peace in the land, but yesterday's friend could easily became today's foe.

From within the castle courtyard came the sudden sound of hooves. A large black horse ridden by a man wearing a cape clattered across the drawbridge and onto the road. The rider, his cape fluttering wildly in the wind, pushed the animal into a gallop.

Behind him, Patrick Leslie, lord of Glenkirk, left a group of wailing women, his newborn son, and his dead wife, Agnes.

As he rode on, his mind slipped back to the weeks and months just past He had waited eagerly for the birth of his heir. Agnes had had an easy confinement, managing to keep her sunny disposition even in the beginning when she had been so sick in the mornings. Patrick Leslie was twenty-four and, having been orphaned at ten, had grown up guided by an old uncle and the men-at-arms who inhabited his home. He had married late, and in a time when most men his age had sired several sons, he had sired none. Then his eye had lit upon the pet.i.te, golden-haired daughter of the c.u.mmings clan. He had married her quickly, and with what some said was almost indecent haste.

The day they both awaited had finally come. Anxiously he had paced the anteroom outside his wife's bedchamber, his cousin, Ian, keeping him company. There had come a loud and l.u.s.ty wail; and a few moments later his wife's lady-in-waiting appeared in the doorway, a small bundle in her arms.

"Your son, my lord. The lady Agnes wishes to know what ye would name him."

Patrick grinned broadly and stared down at the tiny, wrinkled creature. "Adam. Tell her he is to be called Adam, for he is but the first."

The lady-in-waiting curtsied and returned through the door with the infant Ian Leslie c.o.c.ked his head.

"The first, cousin? What of little Janet?"

"Adam is my first son, my legitimate heir, you clod!"

Ian chuckled and ducked the friendly blow aimed at him.

"You'd best send a messenger to Agnes's family, or Lady c.u.mmings will be on your neck, and what's worse, she'll be moving in for a long stay unless you rea.s.sure her quickly."

Patrick nodded. As they turned to leave the room, the door to Agnes's bedroom opened, and a little maid flew out "The lady Agnes ... the lady Agnes ..."

Patrick grabbed her and shook her sharply. "In G.o.d's name, girl, what is wrong?"

"Blood," wailed the servant "blood! Oh, Holy Mother have mercy on her!" Sobbing, she rushed from the room, Patrick Leslie crossed the room in two strides, but the open door to his wife's bedchamber was barred by the midwife. "She is dying, my lord. There is nothing I can do."

"What" he asked, "in G.o.d's name has happened?"

"She is bleeding, and we canna stop it my lord. Ye hae best go in now. She dinna hae much time." The midwife's face registered her genuine distress. She liked the lord of Glenkirk and thought that his lady was a brave and bonnie la.s.s.

Pus.h.i.+ng past her, he strode quickly to his wife's bedside. Agnes Leslie lay quietly on the large bed, her blond hair spread about her pillow. Her fair skin was drained of all its color, her closed eyelids translucent and blue-veined. He bent and kissed her brow.

"You have given me a magnificent son, madam."

Her gray eyes opened, and she smiled weakly at him. "You must ask Mary MacKay to come and look after the bairn. She is not too old."

"You'll ask her yourself, sweetheart"

"Patrick, I am dying."

He groaned and turned his head away.

Her fingers gently caressed his face. "My poor Patrick," she whispered. "Never able to face that which displeases him."

He turned back to her. "Love," he pleaded, "you must not talk this way. You'll get well. You must!"

"Patrick," her voice was urgent now. "You'll keep your promise to me?"

He looked at her blankly.

"When I told you I should give you a child, I asked that when it was born, you bring Janet to Glenkirk. You promised to legitimize her and let me raise her with our own child. She is your true daughter, Patrick. She is a Leslie."

"How can I manage without you?" he pleaded.

"Swear to me, Patrick. Swear on the Holy Virgin's name!"

"I cannot"

"Patrick!" Her voice sank low. "This is my dying wish. Swear!"

"I swear it! I swear it on the Holy Virgin's name. I'll bring my daughter, Janet, to Glenkirk, legitimize her, and raise her with our son, Adam."

"Thank you, Patrick. G.o.d will bless you for it," said Agnes Leslie, and then she died.

The lord of Glenkirk was brought back to reality as his horse, out of habit slowed his gait and turned off the high road into a tree-lined lane. At the end of the lane stood a neat thatched cottage. At the sound of the horse's hooves, a small apple-cheeked woman appeared in the doorway and called out.

"Patrick, ye dinna tell me ye were coming. How is Agnes?"

"Agnes is dead," he said bitterly.

"The bairn?"

"A lad. Healthy and strong." Dismounting, he followed her into the cottage.

"Do ye want to tell me about it, Patrick?"

"I don't understand it Mary. Everything was fine. Then the midwife told me she was bleeding and they could not stop it It was over so quickly."

"Och, my poor boy! I am so sorry."

"Before she died, she asked two things of me. One was that you return to Glenkirk and look after the bairn. Will you, Mary?"

"Yes, Patrick. I was your nurse, and I'll be nurse to your son. What was her other dying wish?"

"That I legitimize Janet and raise her with our son at Glenkirk. She asked it when she first knew she was with child. It was her last request of me, and I swore on the Virgin's name I would."

"G.o.d bless her and rest her sweet soul," whispered Mary MacKay. "Many a wife would have held my la.s.s against you, even though it happened before ye were wed. Agnes c.u.mmings was a good woman."

He nodded.

"But if ye wed again, Patrick, how would another wife feel about Janet?"

"I have killed two women with the bearing of my bairns, Mary. First your own daughter, Meg, who was just sixteen. Now Agnes, and she but seventeen. I'll never wed again."

"Bad luck, my lad. Plain bad luck, but the porridge is burned now. If one day ye decide to make another pot, I suppose we can cope then. Tell me, what will ye call the babe?"

"Adam."

" 'Tis a good name."

For a moment they sat in silence before the hearth fire, and then he asked, "Where is Janet? I want to take her back to Glenkirk tonight"

"In the shed looking at the new lambs." She went to the door and called, "Janet your father is here."

A little girl of four, her unruly, reddish-gold hair flying, ran to the cottage.

"Father, you never said you were coming! What have you brought me?"

"She is surely your daughter, Patrick Leslie," sighed Mary.

"A pocketful of kisses and a bag of hugs, you greedy minx," he laughed, s.n.a.t.c.hing her up. She giggled and snuggled into his arms. "Janet how would you like to go back to Glenkirk with me tonight?"

"To live, father?"

"Yes."

"For always?"

"As long as you want, my little sweetheart"

"Can grandmother come, too?"

"Yes, Janet Your grandmother is going to come and take care of your new brother, Adam."

"And may I call the lady Agnes mother?"

Mary MacKay turned white.

"Lady Agnes is dead, Janet," said Patrick Leslie. "She has gone to Heaven like your own sweet mother."

Janet sighed. "Then you have only grandmother, Adam, and me, father?"

"Yes, Janet."

The child s.h.i.+fted in her father's arms and thought for a moment Finally she looked up at him with her strangely adult green-gold eyes and said, "Then I'll go to Glenkirk with you, father."

Patrick turned to Mary MacKay. "Get her cloak. I'll send a cart for you and your things tomorrow."

Mary bundled the child into a woolen cloak and took her outside where her father, already mounted on his horse, waited. Handing the child up, she said, "Dinna grieve, Patrick. Ye must think of the children now."

"I know, Mary, I know." And, wheeling his horse around, he rode back through the fast-darkening day toward Glenkirk Castle, his small daughter seated before him on his saddle.

PART I.

The Amba.s.sador's Daughter 14901493

1.

WIPING H HIS H HANDS on his s.h.i.+rt, James IV, king of Scotland and the Mes, leaned back in his chair and surveyed the scene before him. On his left sat Patrick Leslie, lord of Glenkirk, who at the moment was engaged in conversation with James's lovely mistress. on his s.h.i.+rt, James IV, king of Scotland and the Mes, leaned back in his chair and surveyed the scene before him. On his left sat Patrick Leslie, lord of Glenkirk, who at the moment was engaged in conversation with James's lovely mistress.

James's eyes swept the room. A minstrel sang a sad song of the Borders, and the unusually warm March day made the hall reek of the long, unaired winter. The king noted from beneath hooded eyelids that many eyes were darting back and forth between himself and Patrick Leslie. Good, he thought Let the scheming b.a.s.t.a.r.ds wonder! Dear G.o.d! Why are there so few I can trust? But he already knew the answer to that question.

On his right sat the Hepburn of Hailes, newly created earl of Bothwell, who, James saw, had an ardent admirer in the person of a young red-headed girl who was sneaking a look at Bothwell from beneath her lashes.

"They say you seek to wed with a Gordon, my lord."

"At court only two days, Mistress Leslie, and already up on the gossip?" the earl replied, looking down at his little admirer.

"Choose Lady Mary, my lord. She is bonnie and sweet of temper."

"And Lady Jane?" said Bothwell.

"She has cat's eyes and the Devil's own temper-so I am told," she added demurely.

Lady Jane Gordon, who was sitting on the other side of the earl, glowered at the child. "Since when does my cousin Jamie allow young brats at his table?" she demanded.

"I am not a brat my lady."

Lady Jane Gordon rose from her seat "I have half a mind to box your impudent ears," she snapped.

The little girl stood, legs apart, facing her beautiful antagonist "'Stand Fast' is my family's motto. Yours is something about 'cunning,' isn't it Lady Jane?"

The room became deathly quiet as Lady Jane Gordon, hands raised, advanced on Janet Leslie. But Janet didn't wait for the regal hands of Lady Jane to smack her. Instead, fists flying, nails raking, Janet flew at her.