They’ll make you think it’s wrong,
Like having empty spaces,
Means you can never be strong.
But I’ve learned that all these spaces
Means there’s room enough to grow,
And the people that once filled them,
Were always meant to be let go.
~ Ernest Hemingway, “Empty Spaces”
It was easy to goad Gascove into fighting with fists. All Reikart had to do was call the man’s ability to win that way into question. One punch was all it took to lay Gascove flat on his back. The crowd in the courtyard roared their approval, and Gascove’s man handed Reikart a bag of coin. “Your reward, McCaim.”
Reikart absently took the bag as he turned from the men waving at him and offering more coin for more fighting. He spotted a young girl whose face displayed her dislike for the blood sport that everyone around her wanted more of. In four steps, Reikart was at the young blond girl’s side. She was dressed in servants’ clothes, except her shoes were too fine to be those of a servant. Reikart suspected she was a girl who was somewhere she was not supposed to be.
“Can you get me into the east wing?” he asked without preamble. He didn’t have time to be careful. All he’d been able to think about since Bellecote had led Deirdre away was getting to her, ensuring she was safe, and then beating Bellecote senseless for touching her. She was his wife, and even if she wasn’t, even if she didn’t want to be anymore, Bellecote was not good enough for her. God, he hoped he was not too late. He’d wanted to stop her from going, but he knew if he tried, he likely would have found himself in the dungeon unable to help her at all.
The girl cocked her head, considering. “What do I get for helping you?”
“This,” Reikart said, shoving the bag of jingling coins at the girl whose brown eyes went wide.
“I’ve no need for coin,” she said.
“What do you need?”
She sucked in her upper lip, looking as if she was considering his question. “I wish to know there are good men in this world. I thought my father such a man,” she whispered.
“Who is your father?” he asked, keeping his voice low as the crowd around them pressed in closer, jostling to try to see what Reikart suspected was another fight.
“Richard Óg de Burgh. I’m Elizabeth, but don’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be down here.”
Reikart was speechless for a moment. The future queen of Scotland was standing before him. This young girl would grow to be a woman with great courage and heart. She would fall in love with Robert the Bruce, the younger, who was supposed to be her enemy.
“Elizabeth,” he said barely above a whisper, “I need to get to Baron Bellecote’s bedchamber. He has taken my wife against her wishes. She belongs to me.”
“Do you love her?” Elizabeth asked, her expression showing her innocence. “Or is she merely a possession?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I love her,” he said, realizing the complete truth of the words. While he’d been running from himself, she’d been there quietly becoming an integral part of his life. “I’ve been a fool.”
She smiled and waved a hand at him. “Most men are fools. Follow me. I’ll get you in and out. You,” she said, giving him a conspiratorial look, “are now my personal guard.”
She then swiveled on her heel and wasted no time weaving through the thick crowd that was already chanting for more. Reikart followed her through the throng and into the castle toward a dark passage. They took the steps to the next floor two at a time, and when they reached the top, Elizabeth’s face was flushed.
“This is great fun!” she exclaimed.
He could see how the girl before him would grow to be a woman who embraced adventure. She led them past two guards who stood at either side of the door to the east wing with a breezy, “Stand down.”
The guards obeyed immediately, giving her questioning looks but saying nothing. “They are afraid of my father,” she said as she fairly skipped down the hall and stopped in front of a closed door. “This,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the door, “is the entrance to the baron’s chambers. I’ll wait for you, and—”
A bellow of rage came from within, and fury exploded in Reikart. “Don’t wait,” he snapped at Elizabeth, not wanting the future queen of Scotland to become embroiled in this mess.
“You’ll never get out of here without me,” she said calmly from behind him as he tried the door, realized it was locked, and kicked it in. The last thing he heard from behind him was, “I’ll wait.”
“You little hellion!” Algien yelled at Deirdre as he righted himself, white faced and holding his man parts. She skittered back a step, clutching the cross she’d seen on his washstand. “Lie down on the bed as I told you to,” he bellowed.
