‘Lord Iain’s just told me the good news. I’m delighted.’
Ban reddened a little as he took the proffered hand. ‘It is an honour, believe me, sir.’
‘Let us drink to it.’
Iain called for wine and presently proposed a toast. ‘To friendship and brotherhood.’
Ban raised his cup solemnly as he repeated the words, a brief and informal version of the oath of fealty he would swear later before his lord and in the sight of his men. Once he looked at Ashlynn and saw her answering smile. When the toast was done the conversation fell into more general topics and she let the men talk, allowing the words to wash over her, having eyes only for Iain. He had done this for her. With a full heart she met her husband’s glance and saw him smile, the familiar easy smile that made her heart leap.
Seeing Dougal and Ban deep in conversation he came to join Ashlynn. She looked up at him with shining eyes.
‘How can I thank you?’
‘No thanks are necessary. It was a logical step to take. Ban needs to make his way in the world and I need good men. Two birds with one stone, you see.’
‘Three,’ she replied, ‘for you have also made me very happy.’
‘If you are happy then I am content.’
‘I am happy, Iain, more than I ever dreamed of being again. After Heslingfield was destroyed I could see no future. You made me look beyond that.’
His throat tightened for he had never thought to hear such words from her. Yet they were heartfelt, of that there could be no doubt.
‘We will build a good future, you and I,’ he replied.
‘Will we?’
‘Can you doubt it?’
‘I want so much to believe, Iain, to let go of the past but it lours over us yet.’ Her eyes met his and he saw the quiet anguish there.
‘What is it, lass?’
‘Fitzurse.’
For a moment or two the name hung between them. Ashlynn laid a hand on his arm.
‘If you really want to build a future let go of your hatred, Iain.’ She paused. ‘Such ancient grudges cast a long shadow and they are corrosive. I do not want our life together to be tainted with the evils of the past.’
His expression grew sombre. ‘You do not know what you ask, Ashlynn.’
‘Yes, I do know—more than anyone.’
‘I made a sacred promise. Would you have me break it?’
‘I demand nothing. I ask only that you think about it.’
‘This is not fair, Ashlynn.’
‘It was not fair that Fitzurse destroyed Heslingfield and murdered my kin,’ she replied, ‘and I have thought often of revenge. But it will not restore my home or make my family live again. They are gone and nothing will change it.’ She paused. ‘The only way now is forward, to make the most of what we have.’
‘With you I have found what I never thought to have again, but I cannot know true peace until Fitzurse is dead.’
‘Will you allow him to taint the future as well as the past, Iain? If so, then he really will have won.’
She turned sadly away, leaving him alone. He sighed, watching her go, torn between wanting and frustration. Did she expect him to break his oath? To be forsworn? Time might have made his memories easier to bear but it did not change the instinct for revenge. His hand tightened around his cup. What Ashlynn asked was impossible. How could he have the kind of future he wanted and know all the time that somewhere his enemy lived and prospered?
* * *
Ashlynn did not return to her room but instead left the tower and took a turn about the courtyard, needing the air and the space to clear her mind. At least it had stopped raining now though everything smelled of damp. She glanced up, watching rags of cloud scudding across the sky above the water-darkened stones of the tower, and shivered, drawing her cloak closer. It wasn’t the weather to be out of doors and yet she had no wish to return to the hall just yet. Seeing the stable door just a few yards away she made for it. It was dry within and warmer too, the air sweet and pungent with hay and horses. Letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light she walked along the stalls until she came to the one that housed Steorra.
The mare heard her step and turned, whickering softly. Ashlynn smiled, and slipped into the stall, rubbing the horse’s nose affectionately. When the bad weather let up it would be good to get out for a ride. Iain had mentioned a hunt. The prospect was alluring.
The thought of Iain brought their recent conversation to the fore again and she sighed. She had hoped her arguments might prevail with him but in retrospect wondered if she had done right to raise the topic again. A blood oath could never lightly be forsworn and he had every right to want revenge. Considered dispassionately it was understandable, and yet how hard it was to be dispassionate when considering the possible price of such revenge. Would it take him from her? Was this newfound happiness to be so soon destroyed? She understood then that her request had been in part about her own insecurities. The knowledge did not make her feel any better.