Free The Mark of Salvation by Carol Umberger

team of both—the oxen could be eaten if necessary.
    He didn’t want to ask Lady Radbourne to drive and, not wanting to add his weight to the wagon, Ceallach walked beside the lead oxen’s head to guide them. Two other men dealt with the second wagon and its team of horses.
    Silently, he worried about Lady Radbourne. She had eaten very little when they stopped at noon, and what she did eat hadn’t stayed down long. The morning’s sun had disappeared, and clouds covered the sky. Soon the threatened rain began—a light rain but one that gave no indication of quitting. Lady Radbourne scurried to sit farther under the oilcloth and out of the worst of the wetness. Ceallach pulled his plaid over his head.
    But the rain made the cart track slippery where it was rocky and sticky where the dirt turned to mud. The beasts trudged forward, however, and finally, an hour after the rains had begun, the wagons turned onto the path that led to Dunstruan.
    Ceallach glanced back to the wagon and the woman huddled there, feeling guilty over her discomfort. He hoped Bruce negotiated her release quickly.
    THE OILCLOTH THAT COVERED THE WAGON leaked and Orelia was hard pressed to stay dry. She watched as the Scot pulled his plaid over his head to ward off the wetness. She had once questioned a merchant of such cloth as to its properties and uses and learned that the weave was so tight it was nearly waterproof.
    She’d wanted to try to weave it herself—the challenge of counting out the threads to create the variegated checks of the Scots cloth appealed to her. But she hadn’t been able to do so without risking John’s wrath. Perhaps she’d get an opportunity during her captivity.
    The wagon jolted over a rock and sent her scrambling for a hold to keep from tipping out. As the tension eased from her arms, she looked up again. The outline of a modest castle emerged from the wooded hillside. How long will I be a prisoner in the home I should be sharing with John? But what awaited her when she returned to England? In which place would she suffer more?
    In a few minutes, the cart drew up to the gate and Ceallach halted the beasts. He spoke to one of the guards before turning to her. “Wait here, my lady.”With no more explanation than that, he went into the bailey and left her sitting in the rain at the mercy of the elements.
    Orelia didn’t know how long she must remain in the man’s company, but at some point, she would certainly have to take him to task for his lack of simple courtesy.
    NO ONE HAD BEEN ON THE WALLS as a lookout and the gates were wide open. Ceallach had no idea if word had been sent ahead so that the people of Dunstruan were expecting him. Lacking that assurance, he’d chosen to leave the wagons outside the gates until he could be sure of his welcome.
    A small group of common folk approached him as he walked toward the keep. No one was carrying pitchforks or weapons so he assumed he was safe for the moment.
    One man, taller than the rest, emerged as the others hung back. He stopped and tugged his forelock in obeisance. “Sir Ceallach?”
    Ceallach relaxed. “Aye.”
    â€œWelcome to Dunstruan, sir. I am Devyn the Steward. We have been expecting you.”
    â€œYou received word?”
    â€œAye. A messenger from the king came two days ago.” He turned slightly to include the others. “We’ve made everything ready for you.”
    Heads bobbed in the crowd, and smiles broke out as they realized who he was. A woman stepped forward, the castle keys hanging from the girdle at her waist. Devyn grasped her hand. “This is my wife, Suisan. She has been acting as chatelaine.” Suisan reached for the keys.
    Ceallach held up his hand. “Keep them, madam.” He didn’t want to explain that he wasn’t planning to stay. “I will rely upon you to continue your duties, if that suits you?”
    She smiled. “Aye, my laird. I