It Was an English Lady Bright.

"Heather for ale? I thought that barley was used for ale."

"Malted barley, aye. I get my barley from the neighboring farms and we malt it ourselves in the brewery. When the ale must is ready, we put heather into the mix to give it a slight bitter flavor, otherwise the brew is too sweet and acid to drink. It has to be done at just the right time or the ale is ruined. Sometimes we use other flavorings besides heather, like hops from the Low Countries, but heather's the most popular in the different ales."

"I thought ale was just ale. How many different kinds are there?"

"There's as many different ales as there are master brewers' moods, more really. At my brewery we only make six different kinds through the year. There's one for each season and two for special occasions. A nut-brown ale for spring; a pale, sweet ale for summer; autumn gets a red ale, but the dark winter ale is the strongest."

"You'll have to bring me some next time you're jousting here." Janet took a sip of her own cup. "Is your ale anything like this? Which one is your favorite?"

"Forgive me lassie but this is poor drink by comparison. I'll have to bring you some of our strong winter's ale, that's my favorite. The malted barley is toasted over peat fires until it's a dark, dark brown and it makes the ale much stronger. It's as dark as your bonnie, sweet eyes and nearly as intoxicating."

Janet found herself blushing again under the steady gaze of the Scot. She tried to continue the conversation to keep him from noticing, but he was already aware of her continually reddening cheeks.

"How does a nobleman know so much about brewing? Isn't that a peasant's craft?"

"My father always said that a Laird should know what's to be done in his holdings. It keeps him aware of what his vassals should be doing."

"Sir Duncan, you've told me of your lands, would you like to see my garden?" Janet's shy eyes changed, flashing at her guest boldly instead of looking down at the floor.

The Scot nodded, then realized that he was being watched. Baron John cleared his throat. Duncan turned toward his host, worry evident in his eyes.

"You may go Janet, but be back quickly." Baron John rumbled, ignoring the look on the Scotsman's face. "The dancing's about to begin."

Janet took Duncan by the hand and led him down the kitchen passage and out through a side door. They emerged into the twilight of a secluded portion of the courtyard tucked between the great hall and the kitchen, filled with neatly arrayed plots of herbs and flowers.

"This is my favorite spot. It's more kitchen herbs than flowers, but I tend them all. I'm very fond of my little garden." She gestured around at the plants, then pointed out one particular shrub. "This one is called basil. It's from the Holy Land, doesn't it smell wonderful?" She crushed a leaf in her fingers and inhaled its scent. Putting her hand to MacBeadh's nose, she urged him to sniff it also. "How do you like my garden, Sir Duncan?"

Duncan grinned. "It's beautiful, but not half so bonnie as its mistress." He grabbed the hand she waved under his nose and brought it to his lips. She giggled and blushed again as he kissed her smooth hand, but her eyes remained boldly on his.

"I would that you'd kiss me properly." She whispered and leaned forward, closing her eyes and pursing her lips. Duncan leaned down toward her, touching only her lips with his mouth. Gently at first, until she responded in kind. He shuffled a half step forward and placed his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. She snuggled against him, her arms snaking around his neck, pulling him tighter into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist, relishing the feel of her supple body pressed against his. After a time they broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes for the space of a contented sigh. Janet's eyes grew mischievous.

"Squeeze my bum." She murmured.

Confusion crossed the Scot's face. "Huh?"

"Squeeze my bum," She repeated. "Like this." She unwound one arm from his neck and reached around his waist. Grabbing a handful of his firm rump, she quickly mashed it with surprisingly strong fingers. He almost jumped as her touch sent a thrill up his spine. It took him a second to catch his breath.

"Now you squeeze mine." She tilted her head back and prepared for another kiss.

"Aye, m'Lady. My pleasure." He swallowed hard.

Duncan avoided her lips and instead planted a kiss low on the side of her neck. Slowly he nibbled his way up towards her ear. Meantime his right hand was making a leisurely progress down her spine, over her round left cheek until he was cupping it gently in his palm. He slowly increased the pressure of his fingers until they were pressed deeply into her young flesh. Then just as slowly he eased his hand open and back up to its previous position at the center of her back. Tearing his lips away from her soft neck, he leaned back and looked for her reaction. She was still in the same position with her eyes closed and lips pursed, completely unaware of the soft mewing sounds she was making.

"Lassie? Lady Janet?" Sir Duncan tried to rouse her. She blinked her eyes open and quickly shook her head to clear it.

"Do that again." She sighed.

"Your Ladyship," another voice interrupted. "My Lord your father sent me to remind you the dancing is about to start." The servant had just stepped through the kitchen door. If he had seen anything, his face didn't show it. Janet blushed again as she led Duncan back into the great hall.

Inside the tables had been cleared away to make room for dancing. Janet was pleasantly surprised to find that MacBeadh danced as well as he jousted. He knew the steps to several popular dances and his athletic good grace had her whirling around the floor energetically enough to take her breath away.

Meantime her brother was getting drunk.

"Look at that beast with my sister. They ride across our borders to steal our gold, cattle and women." James took another swallow of his ale. "This is intolerable. I'd like to. to."

"Go ahead, you're better than him." His equally drunken friend urged. "Your father is the law here, no one can stop you. Do something about it."

"Aye, do it." Another besotted companion urged. "Be bold man."

"By damn, you're right." James staggered to his feet and lurched onto the dance floor. With drawn dagger he approached the Scotsman. "Take your hands off our women, you barbarian." He slashed wildly with his dagger, nowhere near his foe and nearly stumbled. Duncan quickly pushed Janet behind him and out of the way. With one arm spread wide he urged the revelers away from the drunken Knight. The other rested on the handle of his dagger, but he didn't draw it yet. James leaned toward Duncan and aimed a slash at his breast, which MacBeadh easily avoided.

"Why won't you fight me?" James roared. "Stand still."

"I proved myself against you in the joust twice today." Duncan's voice was low and steady. "Put away your wee toy until you're sober."

James drew his arm back to slash again and suddenly found his wrist caught in his father's iron grip.

"James, stop this! Don't humiliate our house in front of all these guests." Baron John hissed through clenched teeth.

"It's that foul barbarian that humiliates us. How can you even let him touch my sister?" James staggered backward, trying to get out of his father's grip. He only succeeded in dropping his weapon. "Don't you see? He's just here to steal our cattle and our women."

"Guards, Sir James has had too much to drink." The Baron raised his voice. "See that he stays somewhere quiet until he's sober again."

Once James had been escorted out, Baron John signaled for the musicians to start playing again. "Dance, everyone, dance. The night is still young." He scooped up a plump blond matron in a costly gown and twirled her through the intricate steps of a bransle.

Janet linked her arm through Duncan's and urged him into the dance. She danced silently, not speaking for a while. Duncan was starting to think that he had somehow offended the Lady.

"You didn't draw your dagger on James. Don't Knights live to fight?" There was a hint of disapproval in Janet's voice when she finally spoke.

"I was always taught that a Knight sees to the safety of his people first and foremost. A true Knight should only spill blood in defense." Duncan led her to one of the benches along the side of the room where they could talk more easily. "I have a high ideal of Knighthood. A Knight should be more than just a ruffian with armor, a true Knight should be gentle unless violence is necessary. A Knight has to be many more things than a warrior."

"How many things can you be?" Janet wondered, surprised at the enthusiasm in MacBeadh's voice.

"As many as needed. First of all a Knight should govern his people for their own safety and well being. Not just guarding them from attack, but managing the lands and other holdings for the better. A Knight has to know what his vassals do."

"So you have to know farming and husbandry besides being a warrior." She paused a moment in thought. "That's why you know about brewing. There must be a lot to know."

"Aye, there is. There's also the gentle arts. I was taught to read and write letters and numbers, dance all sorts of dances, sing, play chess and even recite poetry." He shrugged. "But I'm not very good at poetry."

"It sounds like there's so much more to being a knight than swinging a sword." She looked around the room. The musicians were packing up and the other guests were leaving. She stood up to go. "Will I see you at prime in our chapel tomorrow morn? Best be early."

"With pleasure Lady Janet." He kissed her hands and stood there watching her walk across the room to the passage up to her solar.

======

"Duncan!" Janet's whisper caught the Scot's attention as he crossed the courtyard toward the chapel. "Over here."

Janet leaned out from an alcove behind the great hall. Duncan could barely see her beckoning in the gray, misty predawn light. He followed her and found that it led to her little garden. A sly grin crossed his face as he thought of yesterday's kiss and hoped for another.

"I want you to see this. Just at sunrise all the flowers release their scent." Janet leaned against his side, wrapping one arm around his back and facing both of them toward the rows of blooming plants. He draped an arm across her cloak-covered shoulders, watching the plants intently for any sign of motion. Just as the first rays of the sun penetrated the mists, the blooms swayed faintly and a sweet scent drifted through the air. Duncan took a deep, heady breath.

"It is as beautiful as you said, but I still think you're more beautiful." He drew her towards him and leaned down to meet her sweet lips once more. She responded immediately and even squeezed his behind again. But before he could grab her bottom, the bell for prime began to ring. Janet broke the kiss and gently pushed him away.

"Duncan, we've got to go. Mass is nearly starting and we'll be missed if we're not in the chapel."

"Aye m'Lady." Duncan answered groggily, his head still reeling from the scent and her kiss.

"Come on, come on, my father wants to discuss wedding arrangements later today." Janet took hold of his hand and tugged him along.

"Already?" Duncan regained his senses and matched Janet's quick stride.

"Yes, already. Isn't it wonderful?" Janet giggled in excitement. "Oh, and we're supposed to go hunting this afternoon. You'll get to ride through my dowry lands. And I'll have to stay close to you while we hunt, you might get lost in these unfamiliar woods."

"Hmm." The thought of more kisses danced in the back of Duncan's mind. "Perhaps I should take care to get both of us lost in the woods. together." He thought to himself.

======

Some weeks later, Janet and Duncan knelt side-by-side in the chapel as the priest offered the final wedding benediction. Because of the small size of the chapel, the crowd spilled out into the courtyard. Only the most important guests were able to secure room inside the chapel itself. Baron John's family occupied the area nearest the young couple. However the Baron's oldest son, William, had secured a front space, not only for his wife, but also for his companion-in-arms from the crusades, a Templar Knight named Richard. Sir Richard was the youngest son of the local Duke, the Baron's overlord, and had joined the warrior monks of the Temple, showing his allegiance by his white robes emblazoned with the red cross patee of the Templars. Sir William had accompanied his childhood friend to the Holy Land, but had not taken the monk's vows of poverty and chastity, and so was dressed in brown as a common crusader and lay sergeant of the Templar Order. They were two of a kind, recently returned to England and were still deeply tanned from the fierce sun of Otremere. They both possessed the grim expressions of hardened warriors who had seen many battles. Judging from the protective way William's Lady held onto him, there would be no more going on crusade for the Baron's oldest son.

The gaggle of other siblings, cousins and highborn guests crowded around as best they could in the cramped quarters and surged forward after Janet and Duncan rose and turned towards the door. A merrily grinning Baron John used his bulk to elbow clear a path for the young couple and led them to the great hall for the feast.

The hall was arrayed as never before, far outdoing the tournament feast. Tables groaned under the weight of all the food and drink. Near the high table, there was a stack of ale kegs tended by one of Duncan's vassals. The kegs contained the best dark winter ale from MacBeadh's own brewery. At a nod from the Scotsman, the attendant filled the high table's cups with the heady brew.

Baron John waited for the rest of the guests to find seats before raising his flagon. "To the newly wedded couple!" He boomed and nearly drained his mug all at once when the guests repeated the toast. A surprised smile crossed his face as he lowered his drink. "Is this your brew Sir Duncan?"

"Aye, that it is, my Lord. The best ale saved from this winter's batch."

"This is good strong brew." He held out his now empty cup to the attendant. "I'll have more."

Janet, however, was no so pleased with the drink. She made a face after tasting it. "This is too strong a taste for me. Is there any wine?" She gestured to a servant holding a wine pitcher.

Duncan looked somewhat disappointed in his new wife's behavior. He had wanted to give her a pleasant surprise with his best ale, brewed as dark as her pretty brown eyes. Now it seemed she preferred wine to the best effort of his brewery.

Baron John stood again. "As a welcome to Sir Duncan MacBeadh to our family and to show that he and my daughter are now bound together, I gift you with these." He opened a small, carved box and displayed two matching, jewel-encrusted brooches. "These brooches have been in our family for generations. Wear them to show that you cannot be put asunder. Are there any other gifts?"

Sir James rose from his new place, farther along the high table. "Why yes, I have this little token for my sister and her new. husband." He said it as if it pained him, but covered his expression by leaning down and producing a ceramic wine flask from under the table. "This is a costly vintage brought all the way from Gascony. They say it's the best wine in the world. You two should share it." He set the large jug in front of Janet.

Janet drained the rest of the common wine from her cup, then re-filled it from the flask that James had given her. Duncan refused to mix his drinking and preferred to stay with the strong winter ale in his flagon.

Janet took a long drink of her wine and made a face. "Eww, this tastes strange." She sniffed at her cup, then at the jug. "It smells funny, too. Here, see what you think." She offered the goblet to Duncan. Suddenly her hand was seized by a tremor and some of the wine sloshed out.

"Lassie, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I. Aack!" Was all she could answer, anything else was lost in gurgling gasps. The wine cup crashed to the floor as her eyes widened in panic. She clutched her throat, then clawed at it, straining to take another breath.

"Janet!" Duncan leapt from his seat and tried to help her, but he had no idea what to do. Janet shakily rose to her feet in desperation, still unable to take a breath. Her eyes were on Duncan, pleading, desperate. He was close to panic himself, unable to think of any way to help her, but wanting more than anything to save her. After a shuddering spasm that shook her entire body, her eyes rolled up in her head and she pitched forward into Duncan's arms.

"Someone, help us!" Duncan called out in a shaky voice. She sagged against him limply, a dead weight. Some of the other guests crowded around the couple as Duncan gently lowered Janet to the floor and tried to revive her. Rubbing her hands and pressing her chest, trying to get her to breathe, calling her name over and over again. Meeting no success after several minutes, he pressed his ear against her bosom. There was no sound.

"No, no, no! She's dead!" He howled, looking up with a ghastly expression on his face. Baron John collapsed in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Duncan rested his head again on Janet's breast and openly wept.

Sir Richard noticed Janet's goblet lying in a puddle of wine near her overturned chair. He picked it up and sniffed at the remaining contents with a grimace.

"Poison! She's been poisoned! There's wolvesbane in this wine." He announced.

Duncan's head snapped up to look at James. "You gave her that wine. You killed her!" He uncoiled from the floor and lunged at James with his dagger suddenly in his hand. Richard quickly grabbed his arms and restrained him as Duncan spat curses in Gaelic and English.

"That wine was meant for both of you. My sister was a traitor for marrying a barbarian." James sneered. "Now I'll have to kill you myself." James reached for his own dagger. William was on his brother instantly, keeping the two Knights separate.

"Guards!" The Baron nearly sobbed his words as he pointed at his son. "Take this murderer away. He's no son of mine."

"No!" Duncan let his dagger slip to the floor and dropped to one knee in front of the Baron. "I claim right of trial by combat. No foul murderer can win against a pure heart."

Baron John nodded. "They fight tomorrow at noon. See to it." He commanded his seneschal, nearly choking on his tears. "William, Richard, take my little girl to the chapel and have a bier set up. I'll be with you shortly. Keep an honor guard by her through the night. The rest of you clear the hall. See that both these men stay under close watch. I want no more murder done here."

With a chorus of "Aye, m'Lord." Everyone scurried about their business.

"Let me go, I want to stand vigil for Janet." Duncan attempted to shake off the attendants trying to drag him away. "Let me go to the chapel."

"Tomorrow, Sir Duncan. It is proper that you stay under guard tonight." The Baron heaved his bulk out of his chair and left the hall for the chapel. His head hung down and he didn't even look at his younger son.

======

Just before sunrise, Duncan was putting on his armor when Richard appeared.

"Sir Duncan, I'm to escort you to the chapel. Baron John will let you watch over Lady Janet's body until the joust."

"Brother Templar, I would that you'd hear my confession." The Scotsman asked as they walked toward the chapel.

"But I'm only a brother of the order, not a priest. I can't give you absolution."

"Nay, you're under Holy Orders and can hear confession and can even give absolution in times of need. I have that need now. I have a deadly battle today. Hear me out and promise me this. No matter what happens, let me be buried in a Templar habit, but next to Janet."