Free Maiden of Inverness by Arnette Lamb

this tidy stranger was giving it to her. “Why?”
    â€œTo dispense justice, as the Maiden will.”
    The Maiden. Surely Revas Macduff or the burly sheriff meted out justice here. Unless this Sim referred to some tenet set down in the Covenant? Revas knew them all. The sloth. She couldn’t accuse the steward until she read the Covenant. She wanted no part of the traditions, and what did she care if Sim Grant cheated Revas Macduff? She hoped the man beggared him.
    She took the pouch and placed the wooden bowl inside. Then she handed Sim the flowers. “I’m certain you’ve performed your office fairly. Please put these in water.”
    Next came the cooks. “Sibeal and Conal Montfichet.”
    They were as different as night and day. Sibeal was twice her husband’s size, and fair to the point of sallow.
    â€œMontfichet?” Meridene said, curious about the name.
    A slight man, Conal had cropped his black hair unusually short; yet his beard was as thick as a sheep’s pelt. “Aye, my lady. From the East, we are.”
    â€œFrom Nairn,” Sibeal put in.
    â€œWe came here when our city was burned in the fall of thirteen and seven.”
    His wife huddled inside her shawl. “ ’Twas in October.”
    â€œâ€Šâ€™Twas unimportant jabbering.”
    â€œOnly because you did not think to say it.”
    Bickering came easily to the pair. Meridene knew well that kind of friendship. She and Johanna Benison had spent hours goading each other and years learning to forgive. Johanna, the friend who was now wife to Drummond Macqueen, the beast who had revealed Meridene’s whereabouts to Revas Macduff.
    She gave her husband an appraising glance. “I’m surprised that Bruce would come into your domain and make havoc.”
    His eyes narrowed, as if he were wondering how to answer. At length he said, “At the time I did not answer to Robert Bruce.”
    Taken aback, she almost dropped the steward’s sporran. “You were a rebel chieftain?”
    â€œAye. I made a request of Bruce. He refused and commanded me to do what I could not. When I refused, he put my lands to sword and flame. With your father, he vanquished Nairn.”
    That surprised her, for her father had seldom made alliances with lowland Scots. But since her move to England, Robert I had been crowned king of all Scots. “What did you request of Bruce?”
    Revas tossed his cape over his shoulder and hitched up his sword belt. “As he is our sovereign lord, and you were nowhere to be found, I asked him for the sword of Chapling. He refused—in anger.”
    Meridene tensed. Her suspicions were borne out. Revas didn’t want her; he wanted the sword, had tried to claim it before. Had he bothered to look for her prior to that time? Oh, blast it, she silently cursed. “What did Bruce ask of you?”
    Grinning, he slid a glance at Sheriff Brodie. “He commanded me to bend a knee to your father.”
    Huffs of disgust spread through the guardsmen. But Meridene took heart from the statement. If Robert Bruce was against Revas taking up the sword of Chapling, surely he would help her escape Scotland.
    â€œBruce still ruminates on that frolic,” boasted one of the guardsmen. “Cutberth’ll see a bended knee.” He pointed to his own knee. “I’ll break his head on it.”
    The hoots of approval grew so loud that Revas raised a hand to quiet them. The outspoken man focused his undisguised attention on Meridene.
    A darkly handsome youth, the stranger carried himself with a pride unique to Highlanders. His cocky stance and ingrained self-assurance reminded her of her older brothers. But this man had spoken in contempt of her father. She couldn’t agree with him more.
    â€œWho are you?” she asked him, noticing that his wrists were bare while all of the other men wore golden bracelets of war.
    He swept an impressive bow.