The Price of Freedom by Carol Umberger

presumably mirroring their dispositions.
    â€œGood evening, Lady Kathryn,” Sir Bryan said as he offered her his arm and led her to the dais. They took their seats, one man on either side of her and she said, “Are you cousins, then, Sir Bryan?”
    â€œNo. My mother married a Mackintosh. I lived at Moy until her death.” Bryan cut the meat on the trencher they shared and gave her the first bite on the end of his knife.
    At least he has good table manners. She finished chewing and asked, “And how did you come to train as a knight?”
    â€œI was sent to Lochmaben to train as a page with the Earl of Carrick.” The Earl of Carrick, who now reigned as Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
    Without thinking, she asked, “Your father sent for you?” For a brief second some emotion raced across his face and she quickly said, “I’m sorry, my laird. I should not have spoken so.”
    He calmly resumed cutting the meat and offered her another piece. “The only father I have known was William Mackintosh. And he is dead.”
    Adam cleared his throat and said, “’Tis hard to lose a parent under the best of circumstances.”
    â€œYou have shared my experience,” she replied, glad to move the conversation to a safer topic.
    Bryan filled their glasses. “He has.”
    â€œAye,” Adam said. “My father died six years ago. But as I’ve often said, the love of a good woman can soothe all manner of heartache.”
    Kathryn smiled at Adam’s declaration. “And you speak from experience again?”
    Bryan said, “Adam is disgustingly happily married. And how many bairns have you and Gwenyth now? I can’t keep track.”
    â€œThere’s only the three, Bryan.”
    Kathryn relaxed in their company, enjoying the banter she had always imagined flowed between siblings. The awkwardness caused by her reference to Bryan’s parentage seemed forgotten, thankfully.
    As the table was being cleared for the serving of sweets, Adam’s tone became more somber. “Ceallach should arrive any day and we’ll be called to Stirling. In the meantime, let’s enjoy good food and warm beds while we can.”
    â€œAye, we’ll be eating army food and sleeping on the ground once we leave here.”
    Somehow Sir Bryan didn’t sound as unhappy at the prospect of leaving as Adam did.
    â€œAnd there won’t be such a lovely lady to grace our meals, either.” Adam grinned and Kathryn felt her face blush at his compliment. Adam continued to jest with her and rib his foster brother until a traveling troubadour carrying a harp walked over to their table.
    â€œGawen,” Adam said, “it’s good to see you again. Lady Kathryn, have you ever heard young Gawen sing?”
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    â€œHe has the voice of an angel.”
    The man bowed over her hand. “Your servant, my lady.” He indicated his harp. “I know of your father’s recent death. Would you prefer not to have song this evening?”
    â€œHow thoughtful of you to ask, Gawen. My father loved a well-sung tale, and I’m sure your song would be an appropriate remembrance of him.”
    â€œWith your permission, then?”
    Kathryn inclined her head and smiled at his courtly manners. “Of course, Gawen. Tell us a fine tale this evening.”
    Conversations gradually halted throughout the hall as Gawen took a seat before the great fireplace and strummed the harp. His clear tenor voice enchanted them. Kathryn leaned over and asked Bryan if he would interpret.
    â€œDo you mean to tell me you don’t speak the Gaelic?” he asked.
    â€œI do, but not well enough to follow in song.”
    â€œVery well, then.” He moved closer to her on the bench. She glanced to where Fergus sat, and saw him scowling. Now what? The man seemed constantly cross with her lately.
    Sir Bryan bent down closer to her ear. Kathryn