Chapter Eighteen
There passed another day of anxious waiting, Tessa nearly out of her mind with nothing to do but go over and over the events of the last few days. The little maid who brought her food smiled shyly but dared not speak. It was clear she feared punishment for any sign of friendliness. The door opened again unexpectedly at evening, which Tessa discerned by the torchlight in the passageway.
The same burly man who’d carried her on his horse stood in the dimness. “Come with me,” was all he said.
Tessa obeyed, hoping against hope it was Jeffrey she’d be meeting, but the man led her to the hall, where dinner was in progress. There were no important guests this night, just Hawick’s own and the bard, who’d been invited to stay, having pleased the company. The outlaw himself sat at the table head, dressed informally in a rough brown robe. Mairie shimmered beside him, making Tessa feel all the more disheveled and grubby. Tonight the lady wore a dress of sky blue that managed to make her appear vulnerable and provocative at once. Jeffrey sat on Mairie’s right, looking down at his food, which made Tessa wonder what discussion had preceded her presence. Mairie looked excited, which did not bode well for Tessa. She did notice with satisfaction that Jeffrey had an angry-looking purple bruise under his right eye.
Hawick’s eyes traveled up and down Tessa’s frame in a way that made her blush. “So this is the king’s niece?”
“I have said so.” Jeffrey’s eyes came up and met Tessa’s briefly, but she could read nothing in them. “She says I met her at Inverness when I visited Macbeth, but of course, I remember none of it.”
“My sister has had an idea I find interesting. The last invasion of Scotland failed, did it not?”
“I have heard it said,” Jeffrey answered.
“True enough, Brixton. You sold your sword to the wrong side in that instance.” Hawick had no delicacy, no tact, when an opportunity came to belittle one who could not challenge him on it. “Macbeth was largely responsible for Scotland’s victory, being a capable soldier and a strong leader of men. So the present question is, which side of this…disagreement over the kingship should I be supporting, Macbeth as king in fact, or Malcolm as the one named to succession?”
Jeffrey said nothing, but Tessa thought he looked pale. Had he some idea of where Hawick’s thought was going? She herself had no idea.
Hawick tore a piece of bread from a nearby loaf and ate it while he continued. “My sister is by many considered a perfect example of feminine beauty, but those who know her well understand she possesses a mind that rivals her appearance. She suggests that if I were married to the king’s niece, I would be doubly blessed. First I would have a comely wench in my bed, and second—” Here he looked at Tessa. “—I would have access to the king of Scotland himself.” His own perceived cleverness made Hawick’s flat face shine with delight.
Tessa almost laughed aloud. He had vastly overestimated her importance to her uncle. She opened her mouth to tell the man his mistake, but Jeffrey caught her eye and flashed a look of such vehemence she almost heard the words, “For once, Tessa macFindlaech, keep quiet!” Perhaps it was her own mind that spoke them, because she realized in the next instant that her value as the king’s niece was all that kept her alive at the moment.
“So I consider the institution of marriage,” Hawick said smoothly, and the assembled company buzzed appreciatively. Finally the man who had fetched Tessa chuckled, and soon general laughter filled the room. Everyone seemed to know what was going to happen except Tessa, but Hawick soon let her in on the secret. “I keep a pet priest nearby for such ‘holy’ needs as I might encounter, so we will knit this matter up quickly. Prepare yourself, woman. You have one hour. We will wed this night, and I will be king of Scotland someday because of it.”
There were cheers from his men, and Hawick ordered more ale be brought out. Conversations broke out among small groups as people discussed the news and what it might mean to them. Tessa stepped closer to the table so only Hawick, Jeffrey, and Mairie could hear her.
“The Scots would never accept you as king,” Tessa spat at him. “You are an outlaw as well as a swine.”
There was a flicker in Hawick’s eyes, and Tessa knew if he had his way she would pay dearly for that insult. But he recovered himself and smiled again. “Macbeth has no children. If he defeats the English and remains king, what better heir to the throne than his niece’s husband? I may be an outlaw today, but I’m willing to work my way to the kingship, as your uncle himself did.” He and Mairie both found this remark funny.
Jeffrey smiled rather weakly and late at the jibe, then spoke languidly from his seat, keeping his gaze hooded and away from Tessa. “What if the English win, my friend? You’ll be saddled with a wife whose family is disgraced.”
“Not likely,” Hawick replied. “None but we know she’s here, and none but we will know or care what happens to her if Macbeth is defeated.”
Tessa’s blood froze as he coolly admitted he would kill her if she became useless to him. Her eyes sought Jeffrey’s, but he did not look up. Mairie was at the moment tempting him with sweetmeats from a plate before her. As he took one, Tessa imagined the smile he managed was less than sincere.
Hawick noticed Tessa’s gaze. “Do you suppose this one is a virgin, Brixton?”
Jeffrey’s smile froze and he spoke only after a moment’s pause. Tessa saw the look on Mairie’s face and knew she had taken note of his discomfort. “I don’t know m’lord.” With Mairie’s eyes on him Jeffrey threw off the look of unease and displayed his mask of amusement. “I have no memory of her morals, or my own for that matter. But seeing her makes me hope that if the opportunity arose, I was able to relieve her of that state.”
Hawick tensed for a moment at the thought that Jeffrey might have done just that, but he relaxed with a chuckle. “I say it matters not, for if she is a virgin, then I alone will have the pleasure of her, and if not, then I hope you taught her well.”
Tessa’s face burned to be discussed in this way, and once more she wondered at the man who could bring her such shame after promising to help her. Jeffrey continued to accept sweets from Mairie, who glanced once at Tessa with a haughty smile then returned her attention to her lover.
Hawick spoke to the little maid who’d waited on Tessa. “Take her away and make her presentable.” To a man at his left he ordered, “Have the priest here in an hour. I will become a complete man tonight.”
The girl put her hand timidly on Tessa’s arm, and seeing no other option, Tessa left the room with her. A few voices called out bits of marital advice they thought humorous. Tessa feared she would be sick but controlled her nausea for the sake of pride.
Once they were alone, the girl, whose name was Brenda, was as kind as she dared be. There were clothes already laid out, fine ones. “Mistress Mairie was told to provide ye with a wedding gown, but she didna like it much. Fine clothes are hard to come by here, but she dares not stand against Hawick’s wishes. ’Tis a pity your hair’s chopped off, but it ha’ plenty o’ curl, so t’will look well enow.”
Tessa had no one to talk to but this frightened, ignorant girl. She spoke to herself as much as to Brenda. “I am already married.”
Brenda’s eyes widened in fear. “Oh, miss, is it so?”
“I was married in York last summer. If I tell—”
Brenda’s hand was on her arm. “No! He’ll kill you!” The girl knew well how ruthless her employer was.
“You are right, but what can I do? I can’t speak the words again.”
“True, t’ would be a deadly sin, I’m thinkin’.” Brenda considered for a moment, her freckled face earnest in the rush-light. “Say nothing. That’s the best. If ye say nothing, perhaps ye’ll not really be married this second time.” It wasn’t much. Would Hawick force her to say the words, or would it be enough for him to go through the sham of a wedding ceremony? Tessa had no better idea.
For such an occasion a bath was called for, which felt good despite the circumstances.
Brenda then helped Tessa dress and adjust the gown of creamy white satin with full sleeves and a fitted bodice. It was meant to have a colored tunic over it, Brenda said, but it was fine enough to be worn alone for such an occasion. The skirt was a bit long for Tessa, but her breasts were fuller than Mairie’s so the top was tight. Brenda managed to make it fit by slitting the bodice a bit lower, an effect that embarrassed Tessa when she looked down. “I’m sorry, Mistress. It’s the best I can do with sae little time.”
“What does it matter? I am to be married by force, and in the company of men who are hateful and lawless. There is little sense in worrying about how much of my bosom shows.”
When they’d finished Tessa’s toilette to Brenda’s satisfaction, the two girls sat quietly in the chamber, nothing to say. Finally a knock came on the door and a man almost as large as the other came to fetch Tessa. He grinned when he saw her and with exaggerated courtesy bowed her through the door. At the last moment Brenda remembered and brought a length of sheer fabric she draped over Tessa’s head to serve as the traditional bridal veil. She looked back at the girl, whose face showed sympathy for her plight. “Thank you for your kindness,” she told Brenda, and she answered with a smile and a blush.
As she descended into the great hall again, Tessa noticed one change. Neither Jeffrey nor Mairie was at the table. Where had they gone? She had little time to wonder, for her attention was taken up with her own predicament. Before her stood Hawick, who had not bothered to change or even wipe the grease from the meal out of his beard, and a priest who looked half-frightened yet half-eager, probably for the payment he would receive for this unusual wedding.
As Tessa was led reluctantly through the crowd of waiting people, Mairie slipped back into her seat at the head of the table. When she gestured with disgust at the mess left from the meal, two servants cleared it away.
“Well met, Mairie. I thought you might miss my wedding altogether with your dallying,” Hawick teased.
“I would not miss it for the world,” Mairie responded, “but I fear Master Brixton has become lost in the castle yard. He will not be joining us.”
Hawick chuckled. “We must only hope he does not black the other eye stumbling around in the dark. Now, let us begin. I grow weary and would take to my bed.” General laughter accompanied his remark, and Tessa’s stomach tightened. For a moment she imagined Hawick’s hands on her body, but with determination she shut out the image. It was too much to consider. She would face the disaster when it happened, not before.
The method suggested by Brenda to avoid the marriage vows worked. Tessa never said a word. It seemed the priest had not even bothered to learn her name, referring to her only as “this woman.” When the old man asked if she took Hawick to husband, she stood mute until someone bawled, “Of course she does, ye ninny!” and the priest went on with a flinch. Hawick, for his part, tried at least to be half-serious about the matter, but it was hard with the snickers and jibes from the men of his company.
There was not much to it, and the ceremony was over in minutes. Tessa found herself dizzy and a little confused. Was she married to this outlaw baron or to Cedric? Oh, Eleanor, this was not what either of us planned.
After the ceremony, such as it was, the health of the couple was drunk many times. Tessa sat stonily beside Hawick, who at one point planted a greasy kiss on her lips, to her horror and to the enjoyment of his men, and then paid her no more attention whatsoever. Mairie and her brother discussed their plans for the future.
“The honeymoon must be short, I fear. I will leave with my troops in the morning and march to Inverness.”
“Perhaps the plan should change a bit,” Mairie purred. “Methinks your wedding will explain well why your troops do not arrive to help the king until it’s too late.” She smiled as she waited for Hawick to catch on.
“I see,” he mused. “I am so in love that I delay my departure, and if our English informant is correct, things will be decided before I arrive.”
“That would be much easier for you,” Mairie said.
“True. Once we see which way the battle has gone, I will join the winning side. If Macbeth wins, I come to him as his newest kinsman, willing to help but a little too slow. If the English win, I join Malcolm, claiming my intention was always to fight on their side.”
“Once things are settled, you can decide what to do with her. Malcolm may be won over if you deliver to him one of the tyrant’s family as a token of your loyalty.” Mairie hardly spared a glance at Tessa, listening to her own death discussed for the second time that evening.
“What about Brixton? You say he remembers nothing, but is it wise to have him about?”
“He’s easily led if one has the right weapons.” The smile Mairie sent Tessa’s way was arch.
“My English friend tells me he’s a dangerous man in a fight. I’ve only kept him because you enjoy his company,” Hawick growled. “Once I saw there was no ransom, I’d have slit his throat. What say you, Mairie? Do you trust your Englishman while I am gone north?”
Mairie’s sly gaze rested on Tessa for a moment before she spoke. “You are right to be concerned. I wager we can no longer trust him at all. He has begun to remember his past, though he pretends otherwise. Besides, he has begun to bore me. Do with him as you like.” Her eyes went to Tessa again, waiting.
Hawick glanced about the room, seeking his henchman Dougal. Seeing it, Tessa knew what he would be told to do unless she thought fast. Calling herself all kinds of fool, she spoke, hoping to save Jeffrey Brixton’s life, for no matter what he had done to her, she could not see him murdered in his sleep.
“My lord,” Tessa said, hardly trusting her voice to stay even. “Brixton’s family may not pay ransom for him, but some would pay in gold.”
“And who might that be?”
Tessa put forth the strongest argument she could think of. “If you want to gain favor with Macbeth, you would benefit from delivering an English spy to him. Why do you think my uncle sent me here? It was to find this Brixton, who plotted with rebels and invaders while he was a guest in Macbeth’s own home. The King would pay well to get his hands on Brixton.”
“Fie! Why would he send a girl and an old man to capture an Englishman?”
Tessa remained calm, at least outwardly. “Not to capture, only to find where he is. My uncle knew I could identify Brixton, having traveled with him for several days when he held me captive.”
“Brixton abducted you?”
She looked directly at Hawick for the first time. “I’m afraid you’ve made a bad bargain, for I speak the truth. I journeyed to England as Brixton’s prisoner, the two of us alone. I’m sure I need not tell you what I suffered. I for one am glad the man has lost all memory of the past, but my uncle has not forgotten. You know how he repays his enemies.” Tessa guessed rumors of Macbeth’s revenge on those who betrayed him had reached Hawick’s ears, and the look on his face confirmed it.
The man’s face tightened. Mairie’s jaw clenched and she nodded involuntarily, as if to say she’d known there was something between Jeffrey and Tessa. After a moment, Hawick regained control and let out an ironic laugh. “Well, my dear, it seems we both made a bad bargain. I am to have used goods, and you may well have a very short future.” Tessa felt the blood drain from her face, but she forced her expression to remain unchanged as Hawick continued, wagging a finger under her nose, “Unless you behave very, very well.”
He laughed at his heartless jest and pushed his bulk back from the table. “So, now we will forget the past and make our way to the bridal chamber.” Mairie smiled slyly again, and Tessa felt a wave of fear. “But I thank you, lass, for the information. There is yet time to be rid of Brixton if he gets in my way, but for now I shall let him live. Perhaps I shall take him with me to Inverness, for he is an amusing fellow, and I like a man who might be worth a bit o’ gold.” He raised his voice and announced he and his new wife would retire to their chamber.
With much merriment and many ribald c
omments, Tessa and Hawick were escorted to a room on the second floor. Hawick made a great joke of carrying Tessa across the threshold, to the delight of his men. Tessa did not resist, knowing that was futile, but held rigidly still as she was set back on her feet inside the room. Hawick dismissed the crowd of raucous attendants with a mock-gallant bow and a lewd wink. Because of his status, the chamber had a real door, which he shut and locked, pocketing the key. Sounds of laughter died away in the passage. A few last comments floated back as the party retreated. The outlaw turned to face Tessa, who stood where he had set her, frozen with dread.
“Now, lass, let’s see what I’ve got in this bargain,” he growled. His eyes went to the front of the gown, and Tessa put a hand to her chest involuntarily. Then anger replaced fear and her old fire returned. For once Kenna might have approved of her daughter’s indomitable spirit.
“I cannot stop you, outlaw, and you will do what you will do. But understand that you will never be able to turn your back on me, nor will you ever have a kind word from me, even on your deathbed.” Tessa hissed.
“Words, my dear, were not what I had in mind from you. I care not for your heart or your mind, but I will have your body, and as you say, you can do nothing to stop me.” Hawick chuckled deep in his throat, advancing upon Tessa and pulling her to him. Frantic now, she tried to push herself away with both hands against the man’s huge chest, but he was strong and soon held both her arms tightly at her side, his face close to hers. She made an involuntary sound of distress that amused Hawick.
“Never be shy about making noise, lass. The household will enjoy hearing your screams, for they are a rowdy lot.”
Tessa knew there was no hope. Hawick’s hands tightened on her arms, and he pulled her even closer, his lips nearing her own. His eyes, staring into hers, gleamed with amusement. Then they crossed, uncrossed, rolled up into his head, and closed. After teetering for a moment, his grip on her arms loosened and his oversized body dropped to the floor in an undignified heap.
“She can’t stop you, but I can,” said Jeffrey Brixton, and Tessa almost fainted with relief.