“Sawney said to trust no one so why would I tell you where he has gone?”
Bryce hung his head. The rope around his wrists burned a little, but he ignored it. “I have no words to convince you, but I beg of you, help us find him. He is our only hope.”
FOR SAWNEY THERE WAS a bit of good news. The black stallion was back and seemed to want them to follow. The stallion pawed the ground, and then waited until the men got everyone situated on the horses. Keter looked to Sawney for advice but Sawney only shrugged. As long as they were not going back the way they came, why not follow this odd horse. Besides, a horse could find water and a rider-less horse was even better at it.
At length, the stallion led them up the side of a hill and from the top they could see a magnificent glen, nearly as grand as the one they left behind. At the edge of the valley sat a village not unlike their own, except this one had a tall wooden fence around it to keep attackers and wild animals out.
Inside the fence, the people appeared to be going about their normal day. “They look peaceful enough,” said Daniel. He dismounted, took little Flora out of Paisley’s arms, stood her on the ground and held on until she got her balance.
Keter got off his horse too, as did the other men, and each helped the women and children down. Soon they stood together looking at the tranquil scene before them.
Blare pointed at a large square of tilled land to the right of the village. “They farm and the land is good. Perhaps they let us barter for food.”
Paisley was worried. “‘Twill do no good, we have nothing to barter with.”
“Aye, but we do.” Keter untied the string around his waist, opened the sack, dug inside, and withdrew the small sack Carley gave him before they left. He handed it to Sawney and then watched to see the delight in his laird’s eyes.
Sawney poured the jewels into the palm of his hand and watched them sparkle in the sunlight. “She took them out of the goblets?”
“Mother said Justin did,” Keter answered.
Sawney lifted his eyes upward, “Thank you, Father.”
Lenox was astounded. “Are there more golden goblets?”
Sawney smiled. “Aye, there are.”
Now Diocail was worried, “Will Neasan find them?”
Sawney put the jewels back in the small sack keeping only one large ruby out. “I assure you, Neasan will never find them.”
Paisley smiled at the three unmarried men who unselfishly came with them and was tempted to pull her sword. If any deserved to see its golden blade shimmer in the sunlight, they did. However, now was not the time.
Hew noticed it first, nudged Sawney until he looked, and only then did both recognize the familiar handle sticking out of the sheath Paisley wore. Sawney smiled, quickly looked away, and turned his attention to the village below. “If we can see them, they can see us.”
“True,” said Blare. “Perhaps if we walk instead of ride, they will think us peaceful as well.”
“How will we explain why we wear different colors?” Gavina wanted to know.
“Better still, who do we say we are?” asked Jennet.
WALKING INSTEAD OF riding made them all feel better. With Keter once more leading the way, they went down the hill, turned up the path, and leisurely strolled toward the village. Sawney noticed the black stallion did not come with them and assumed that was the last they’d see of him.
Paisley even managed to pick a few wild flowers along the way, the children ran forward and then ran back, and as they got closer, two puppies scrunched under the wooden fence and raced out to greet them. The children were delighted, even the older ones, but especially little Flora.
As soon as the tall wooden gates opened, four guards came out with swords drawn and Sawney quickly called a halt. He made certain the women and children were behind the men, but he did not draw his sword. A moment later, an unarmed man walked through the gates. He looked too young to be a laird and seemed overly interested in the women, but as he drew near, his guards kept him well protected.
“We have come to barter for food and clothing if you have them to spare,” Sawney said.
“Who are you?”
“We are Fergusons. A flood took our village, our land grows little anyway, and we seek new land.”
“We have heard of no village flooding.”
“Perhaps the news has not yet reached you.”
“Perhaps.” He seemed not to notice how much bigger the MacGreagor men were than his men and instead gawked first at Paisley and then at Jennet. “I am Laird Macfarlane.”
“Have you food to spare?” asked Sawney.
Laird Macfarlane looked fifteen-year-old Senga up and down, but when he looked a little too long at Gavina’s hips Keter found it difficult to control his annoyance. “She is my wife.”
“And the others?” he asked, not bothering to stop staring.
Keter stepped in front of Gavina just before he answered. “All married.”
“Pity.” At last, Macfarlane turned his attention to the task at hand. “What have you to barter?”
Sawney slowly opened the palm of his hand, showed Laird Macfarlane the ruby, and watched the admiration in his eyes. “‘Tis yours in exchange for ample food for us all.”
Laird Macfarlane quickly changed his expression from delighted to demanding. “‘Tis not enough.”
“‘Tis all we have.”
Macfarlane stared at the largest ruby he had ever seen and pondered the trade for a moment. “I shall have it first.”
“Nay, you shall have it last. Bring out the fare and if we find it agreeable, then you shall have the ruby. I give you my pledge.”
At last, Macfarlane nodded to one of his men, who rushed back inside the gate. At first, he returned with only two yellow plaids, one sack of oats, a smaller one of vegetables and a third of apples. Sawney rolled his eyes. The man was sent back for more three times before the MacGreagors were satisfied and Sawney gave Macfarlane the ruby. Soon they were on their horses and riding down a path that took them around the village and into the forest beyond.
They followed the path for just a short time before Keter took them back into the woods. It would not be the first time a clan bartered and then attacked to get their goods back. Once more, the bushes scratched their legs, they had to push tree branches out of the way or duck under them, and once more, the going was far slower than it would be on the paths. Still, two hours later they were safely away.
WILLIAM WAS NOT ALL that unhappy to be captured. After hours of following tracks without finding Sawney or the traitors, he and his men were suddenly surrounded by no less than thirty Swinton Warriors. Even as big and as strong as they were, six against thirty was certain death so they did not put up a fight. Then, when he mentioned the name Davidson, each and every Swinton spat on the ground and it was plain to see, they knew all they needed to know about Neasan.
At least William did not have to face his laird with yet another failure and about that, he was very glad. Once they were stripped of their weapons, the Davidsons were taken to an empty cottage and held captive. Not long after, two men brought them an evening meal. “‘Tis from Sawney,” said one. “He wishes us to keep you well-fed.”
William’s mouth dropped. Not only was Sawney alive, William had found him after all. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He wondered just how long it would be before Neasan heard where Sawney was and that his men were captured. What would he do then? Neasan, he decided would declare an all-out war.
Nevertheless, William was a little embarrassed. Captured by another clan? That was something that never once happened to the MacGreagors and if it had, Justin would simply ride into the Swinton village and ask for them back. He would barter, trick, or do whatever else he must to save his men, but he would not go to war unless it was his last alternative.
William took the bowl handed him, crossed his feet at the ankles, sat on the dirt floor and began to eat. The feeling that the clan chose the wrong man to lead them was growing stronger by t
he hour and now there was something else to worry about. If Sawney managed to defeat Neasan, William’s future would be in doubt. It was too late to worry about that now, he supposed. He was Neasan’s second in command, a pledge was a pledge and he’d given his to Neasan.
HUNTING FOR HER OWN meat was a mundane chore that had to be done and when Mackinzie could not find a deer, chickens running wild or a rabbit to kill, she decided to go to the waterfall to fish for salmon. It was not far from the hill she loved and instead of going the long way around on the beach, she took a shortcut through the trees, where she could cross the creek without getting wet by hopping from rock to rock.
The feeling of something splendid coming her way was gone, this day she felt wistful and decided it was because she’d given up seeing the black stallion ever again. With that on her mind, she was not being overly aware of where she was, or where she was going when she found herself not five feet from a Scottish Wildcat.
Mackinzie had encountered wildcats before, but this one was by far the biggest and looked to be the most dangerous. From its nose to the tip of its tail, it was as long as her leg, had ruffled brown and black stripes and a jaw that looked unusually wide when it hissed.
Everyone knew these cats didn’t hesitate to kill especially to protect their young. They were sly cats, fearless and powerful, known to kill birds as large as eagles and easily walk away with one of the Campbell lambs clamped tight in its jaws.
Now, Mackinzie stood between the cat and the fish it most likely wanted to catch with its very long and very sharp claws. She was terrified. Cautiously, she began to back away while at the same time drawing her dagger. Again, the monstrous cat hissed and for a moment, she wondered if she should attack first.
The cat suddenly hunched down as though it was preparing to leap and when it did, Mackinzie turned and ran. She nearly missed two rocks as she scrambled across the creek, but she managed and continued to run through the trees all the way back to her village.
She feared no man, but a wildcat was an altogether different matter and when she looked back, she was relieved to know it wasn’t chasing her. Out of breath, she slowed as she started down the path between the cottages.
Mackinzie told the first man she saw about the wildcat. He was surprised she spoke to him at all, but his worry soon matched hers and he hurried away, shouting a warning for mothers to keep their little ones inside and for extra guards to watch over their extensive herds of sheep.
She took one more look down the path just to be sure the cat was not behind her and went home. Her cottage was very small with barely enough room for a bed, a table and one chair. It was located not far from the castle, most likely chosen so Laird Campbell could keep an eye on her. Likewise, the path was straight and she had a clear view of the castle’s large double doors, which meant she could keep a close eye on him as well.
It was a pleasant village all in all with the usual cottages made of rock and mortar. Thatched roofs were different colors, depending on the age of the materials used to build them. Most of the men helped herd sheep north of the village, often moving them from hillside to hillside with the aid of border collies. Save for a trip down the coast to sell their wool once a year, the Campbells were not a seafaring clan. Yet spring was approaching and nearly everyone in the clan was busy with something that had to do with getting the wool to market.
Their total inattention to her suited Mackinzie just fine. As she entered her cottage and closed the door, she decided she wasn’t that hungry anyway and settled for a meal of raw white carrots, turnips and berries. A short time later, she heard the men on the path say they had killed the wildcat and she was greatly relieved. Now she would not be scared to go back to her beloved hill.
When she finished her meal, Mackinzie looked around her sparsely furnished cottage. This day she had something amazing to tell and was sadly and acutely aware of having no one to tell.
She shrugged, got up, and pulled her small weaving loom away from the wall. Each evening she passed the time by working her loom while the sunlight still allowed her to see. She liked the soft lamb’s wool and some mornings when she went out to greet the day, a new ball of spun yarn, just the right color, lay on a rock near her door. Always, she looked around, but she still had not discovered who left such wonderful gifts for her.
Kilts and plaids were made of eighteen rows of light blue followed by three rows of yellow, a pattern she found boring and tedious. Instead, she liked to experiment with different colors and make designs. Why not? The clan had more than enough weavers to supply their needs. It was just a way to ease her loneliness and she had no intention of letting anyone else see them.
ONCE DENA GOT WORD that Neasan sent the men out to find Paisley again, she was not just annoyed, she was as furious as he had been the night before. Becoming mistress of the clan was something she’d dreamed about all her life and she would not let Neasan deny her now. Besides, she found him exciting as well as alluring. She could not wait to be in his arms and thought he felt the same way. After all, he did kiss her and that was as good as being betrothed.
Dena spent hours sitting on her bed trying to think of some other reason he wanted Paisley back. Alas, there was no other reason. Neasan intended to marry Paisley and that was that.
The thought grated on her very soul—he was the man for her and Dena was right for him, even if he did not know it. Perhaps it was time she did something about his misguided intentions and there was only one sure way—Neasan could not marry Paisley if he was already married. A plan certain to work was beginning to form in her mind, but to make good on it, she had to be alone with Neasan, and that didn’t appear likely anytime soon.
Nevertheless, if there was a way, Dena was determined to find it.
AT THE TOP OF THE NEXT hill, the black stallion rejoined them and once more took the lead. The MacGreagors continued to follow him, not because they believed the horse knew what it was doing, but simply because they could see no reason not to. Had the stallion turned south or north, they might have reconsidered, but the horse led them through the forest until it came to a well-worn path
Keter hesitated for a moment, decided they were far enough away, and when Sawney nodded, continued to follow. All were glad to be out of the bushes, and from the path, they could see more of the countryside. They marveled at the vast lands and rolling hills of Scotland, behind which they could see far off mountain peaks.
Only once did they leave the path to hide from men coming toward them. The men tried to catch the black stallion, but it managed to stay just out of reach until the men got tired, gave up, and went on their way.
Though the MacGreagors remained watchful, they saw nothing of the Davidsons and began to breathe easier. When it rained, they covered their heads with heavy cloaks and kept going. When evening came and it stopped raining, they found dry land under the ample trees in the forest to sit on. Then they ate their fill and were happy to drink strong ale to soothe their aching muscles.
A hearty meal and the freedom to walk the stiffness out helped their mood. Just before time to put the children to bed, Sawney told one of the old MacGreagor stories. “Our Great-great-grandfather was in want of a wife. He lived in a faraway place where...”
STILL NEASAN DID NOT send for Dena and it was time. She undid her braid and brushed her long hair until she was satisfied it looked as good as she could make it. She parted it a little to one side, looked in the small, broken mirror on the wall, and was pleased with the way it framed her face. Late evening was finally upon them, the clansmen were taking part in their third night of celebration and the time seemed right to put her plan into action. She picked up the extra clothing she intended to wear after she bathed, opened the door, and walked down the path toward the courtyard.
Dena was delighted to find Neasan outside with the men and he did not appear to be as agitated as he had been most of the day. At least it meant Dena did not have to think of a way to tempt him out of the Keep, although she would have come up wi
th something if necessary.
He spotted her too, which was exactly what she hoped. Dena stopped, smiled at him, lowered her eyes, and then turned, and headed down the path to the loch. Normally, the men bathed in the late afternoon and if she was very fortunate, those who still held with the old ways were finished by now. Cautiously, she paused as she approached the loch, peeked through the branches of the last tree, and assured herself they would be alone. So far, everything was perfect.
She set her pile of clothing down on a rock, slipped out of her shoes and began to untie her belt. Then she waited for what seemed like quite a while until she heard footsteps behind her. Without looking back to see, she released her belt and let her plaid fall to the ground. The footsteps stopped and she knew he wanted to watch. Her long shirt still covered all but her legs and just to tantalize him, she leisurely opened her shirt and let it slowly slide off her back.
Abruptly, she ran into the water and started swimming away. When she glanced back, she saw him undressing and knew his strength would enable him to catch up with her quickly, but she had considered that when she made her plan.
She swam around the bend until she was out of sight, hurried out of the water, and grabbed a blanket she left there earlier. Next, she slipped on an old pair of shoes and ran into the forest. By the time Neasan arrived, Dena was well away.
The forest was darker than she thought it would be and before long, she ran right into the low-hanging branch of a tree. She hit it hard, cut her cheek just below the eye, and nearly knocked herself out. It hurt something awful, but she never made a sound for fear Neasan was close.
She lifted the branch over her head and then stopped to see if she could hear him. When she heard nothing, she took a moment to wrap the plaid around her naked body better and proceeded to walk right into a tall, thorny bush that scratched both her legs.
A Time of Madness Page 8