in Paris, where they were to be married. The lady herself, is not so rich—landed, and with a pedigree near to kings, but alas, enwrapped in poverty, due to the war-tom devastation of her hereditary lands. The arrangements for her marriage were made by a cousin who guards the property in her stead. I found the assignment to waylay her rather curious, despite the fact that her death would give the property over to other kin. The property is in desperate need of new income, and the marriage is necessary for Count de Lacville's wealth to restore the property to any hope for the future."
"Very curious," Wallace murmured. He looked at Brendan. "The English sell one another right and left; cunning and greed and espionage are all about, while we are fixed on one goal and one obsession. Our goal remains so distant because we battle among ourselves in Scotland as well. It is amazing that any man lives out a decent life on his own land, tending his family, or loving his wife."
The sound of Wallace's bitterness was startling to Brendan; he faced the knowledge that the barons did not truly accept him in victory, much less defeat, yet he still looked to the future for his country. He sounded weary now. The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "You will not be monsters! That is your choice; for me, I am glad of the peace I will make. For now. In the end, I will sail back to Scotland with you, I think." "Really?" Brendan queried, amused by the man who had a strange sense of scruples—and indignation.
"I will lift my sword for the nobility of a higher cause— and for land, should that cause ever be won," he added. He looked at Wallace and grinned. "I will earn a place to live out a better life, to tend a family. And love a wife. For the moment ... I would not be so noble. She is sent out to wed for the glory of French wealth! Yet someone would see her dead. My wicked ways would surely be more kind than what her family has intended, and the lady is a rich morsel in herself, as I was told." "Take care, pirate—" Brendan warned softly. Again, the Frenchman threw up his hands. "Aye, she is in your command. A pity. She has more than youth and great beauty; she has life, spirit—"
"And quite a tongue on her as well. She would lead a husband on a merry chase," Wallace said, drinking more wine. He had a palate for the wine and seemed to appreciate it well enough. "We wage war against the English, and that is our pursuit in France, and in life," Brendan said suddenly. "She is a part of England, so much so that she donned armor and rode to war." "Shall I sell her to an Arab emir then?" the Frenchman inquired. "She would fetch a pretty, pretty price!" "Despite the things said about me, I've yet to make war on women," Wallace said.
"She took arms against you," de Longueville reminded them, amused by the situation. Brendan rose, amazed at the way his teeth clenched and his fists balled at his sides. "We are not on the battlefield now. The quest is far greater than the fate of any woman. We have her, and Philip will want her. she is in our custody, but we need the French king's help. We will bring her to the French court." "The emirs would keep her alive, and treasure her at that!" de Longueville muttered.
"De Longueville," Wallace said quietly, "not even you can imagine the blood I have on my hands, and the things I have seen to want vengeance to such an extent. Brendan knows the truth of it; Lady Eleanor must be turned over to the French king. It is the only diplomatic possibility. Her marriage has been arranged; there is nothing cruel or unusual in such matters—" "Aye, heiresses are bought and sold in marriage each day. But someone wanted this heiress to disappear,'' de Longueville reminded them. "I have met this man to whom she is promised," Brendan said. "He ordered no murders, and he will protect her. I will, in fact, suggest that he keep her in France for a time, and watch for those around him."
He left the cabin, aware that both the
"Very curious," Wallace murmured. He looked at Brendan. "The English sell one another right and left; cunning and greed and espionage are all about, while we are fixed on one goal and one obsession. Our goal remains so distant because we battle among ourselves in Scotland as well. It is amazing that any man lives out a decent life on his own land, tending his family, or loving his wife."
The sound of Wallace's bitterness was startling to Brendan; he faced the knowledge that the barons did not truly accept him in victory, much less defeat, yet he still looked to the future for his country. He sounded weary now. The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "You will not be monsters! That is your choice; for me, I am glad of the peace I will make. For now. In the end, I will sail back to Scotland with you, I think." "Really?" Brendan queried, amused by the man who had a strange sense of scruples—and indignation.
"I will lift my sword for the nobility of a higher cause— and for land, should that cause ever be won," he added. He looked at Wallace and grinned. "I will earn a place to live out a better life, to tend a family. And love a wife. For the moment ... I would not be so noble. She is sent out to wed for the glory of French wealth! Yet someone would see her dead. My wicked ways would surely be more kind than what her family has intended, and the lady is a rich morsel in herself, as I was told." "Take care, pirate—" Brendan warned softly. Again, the Frenchman threw up his hands. "Aye, she is in your command. A pity. She has more than youth and great beauty; she has life, spirit—"
"And quite a tongue on her as well. She would lead a husband on a merry chase," Wallace said, drinking more wine. He had a palate for the wine and seemed to appreciate it well enough. "We wage war against the English, and that is our pursuit in France, and in life," Brendan said suddenly. "She is a part of England, so much so that she donned armor and rode to war." "Shall I sell her to an Arab emir then?" the Frenchman inquired. "She would fetch a pretty, pretty price!" "Despite the things said about me, I've yet to make war on women," Wallace said.
"She took arms against you," de Longueville reminded them, amused by the situation. Brendan rose, amazed at the way his teeth clenched and his fists balled at his sides. "We are not on the battlefield now. The quest is far greater than the fate of any woman. We have her, and Philip will want her. she is in our custody, but we need the French king's help. We will bring her to the French court." "The emirs would keep her alive, and treasure her at that!" de Longueville muttered.
"De Longueville," Wallace said quietly, "not even you can imagine the blood I have on my hands, and the things I have seen to want vengeance to such an extent. Brendan knows the truth of it; Lady Eleanor must be turned over to the French king. It is the only diplomatic possibility. Her marriage has been arranged; there is nothing cruel or unusual in such matters—" "Aye, heiresses are bought and sold in marriage each day. But someone wanted this heiress to disappear,'' de Longueville reminded them. "I have met this man to whom she is promised," Brendan said. "He ordered no murders, and he will protect her. I will, in fact, suggest that he keep her in France for a time, and watch for those around him."
He left the cabin, aware that both the
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