Maud lies in wait

Maud stalked angrily in her garden, casting pained glances at the yellowed and fading flowers that swooned at her feet. How she hated the autumn! The garden was a more mournful place than even the dreary hall, but she had to get outside into the air. It was still early, before breakfast, and the fallen leaves were slick with dew, but she had fled the castle, leaving baby Colban with a nurse.

Malcolm had not come again. He had told her he would not, that last night, but she had not believed him. He had not come, and yet when she saw him at dinner or throughout the day, he wore such a pained look, and so scrupulously avoided her eyes, that she knew he was longing for her. But he had not come!

Colban had said that they two were leaving as soon as the baby had been christened. The weather had changed abruptly with the changing of the month, and the days were gray and windy, and the nights threatened frost. They did not want to risk meeting snow. They only waited for the new crucifix to be finished so that the chapel could be properly outfitted again, and it seemed that would be soon.

And yet he did not come!

Maud leaned her head wearily against the smooth trunk of a birch and looked down into the still, grim water of the pond, now nearly obscured by a sodden mat of fallen leaves.

She had to speak with him. If she could only have a few moments alone with him, she knew she could convince him to come to her again. What could it hurt? He would leave again regardless, and it might be another year or more before she saw him again. It was too cruel for him to deny her the time they might have had.

She lifted her head and listened. A horseman—or, no, two horsemen were coming up the path behind the garden. Few rode that way except for pleasure—and Malcolm and Colban often rode out before breakfast—and if she listened, she thought she heard… It was Colban’s voice!

If it was only Colban and Malcolm, she could meet them. Colban already knew—she had nothing to lose.

She leapt out at them as they approached the garden wall.

Colban’s horse shied and nearly bolted, and he howled at her in Gaelic as he tried to calm the animal. “Are you daft?” he finally shouted.

Malcolm looked at his hands and said nothing.

“I must speak to Malcolm!” she cried.

“Malcolm does not care to hear,” Colban growled. “Go back to your castle. It is unseemly for you to meet us here.”

“I must speak to him or I shall tell Sigefrith everything!”

Colban dismounted and strode angrily up to her. “You will tell me what you would have him hear. If I choose I shall tell it him.”

“You have no right to stand between us,” she hissed.

“You, woman, have no right to see him. I am sorry I cannot speak your language as well as he, for I should very much like to tell you what I think of you.”

“Malcolm!” she cried.

But Malcolm stood with his back to them, and looked at his feet.

“Do you understand now? He will not speak to you again! He will not come to you again!”

“He would speak to me if you were not here!”

“He would not! He has learned too late that he has done wrong—but he has learned! Do him no more dishonor—nor you, nor your husband.”

“I shall tell Sigefrith!”

“Why? Would you wound us all? Him and Malcolm and you and me and your own son? Out of spite?” And another word in Gaelic that she did not understand.

“I will see him again.”

“You will not. You have his son—more than either of you deserve. Content yourself with this, go back to your husband—more again than you deserve—and beg forgiveness of God if not of him.”

He turned away from her and swung himself back into his saddle. He said something to Malcolm that she could not understand, and Malcolm too mounted his horse, and they began to ride off.

She waited until Malcolm was even with her and then leapt at him, clutching at his foot. “Malcolm!” she sobbed.

His horse danced sideways, but he did not look at her.

She let go of his foot and stood, stunned, watching them ride away. “I hate you!” she finally called out. “You will never see your son again!”

He lifted his head and turned his face towards her far enough for her to see his profile dark against the sky. And then he looked away again, and they rode into the trees.