A Time of Madness

by Marti Talbott

  Then came the worst possible news. A very small clan had been completely wiped out by men of great strength. Who else could do such a thing but Neasan, and the clan that was no more, had to be the Haldane.

  The MacGreagors continued their journey trying to hide their sorrow from one another. The Haldane had always been small with few of their own warriors to protect them. At last count, they numbered only twenty-seven adults and they were good neighbors to the MacGreagors. The two clans occasionally intermarried which meant some were related.

  The names and faces of the Haldane were on every mind and when Jennet burst into tears Sawney stopped the horses. Blare was quick to dismount and take his wife in his arms to comfort her. Soon, all the women were crying and all the men felt just as bad.

  It was time for their noon meal anyway and Keter suggested the elder children carve a mark into a soft stone for each of the Haldane. It seemed to make them all feel just a bit better and they watched as the two eldest boys stood the stone upright along the path.

  Paisley’s side was hurting and it was Lenox who noticed it the most. Now that little Flora rode with one of the other women, he often saw Paisley hold her side. After the stone was carved and placed near the path, Lenox took Sawney aside and told him.

  Paisley didn’t want them to bother, but her brothers insisted, so the women held a plaid up in front of her. Sawney made Paisley undo her belt and with only her long shirt on, he carefully parted it, poured wine on his cloth, and held it against her wound. It was the only medicine they had and he knew it hurt, so when he thought he had held it there long enough, he gathered her in his arms and let her cry.

  When they mounted their horses this time, it was Lenox who helped Paisley up, and instead of holding onto her waist, he put an arm under her legs and lifted all of her up. Lenox grew up with her and they had always been friends, save for the times she threatened to kill him. Pleasing her was occasionally difficult when they were young, but he didn’t mind. She was fun to be with and interesting to talk to. Perhaps he cared for her a little more than the other men because of it and now he meant to see to her care.

  Paisley was happy for his attention, although she saw nothing more in it than an old friendship. She was also happy Lenox was taking a burden off Sawney, who always seemed to be fussing over her. She did not deny her pain, but there was nothing anyone could do to relieve it, so she carried on as though nothing was wrong. All of them had aches and pains they were not complaining about and she did not want to be the fainthearted one among such strong people.

  IF ANYTHING COULD DISTRACT Neasan from planning a new attack, it was the fact that William and the men had not come back, with or without Paisley. The more he thought about it, the more he paced and loudly yelled his complains about the multitude of things that irritated him. His bellowed list of threats was long and growing longer.

  More and more, the Davidson’s were getting tired of his ranting and more than once rolled their eyes over his latest outburst. It seemed nothing could please him, even his meals, which he continued to wolf down as though someone was set to take it away before he could finish.

  It appeared to be the perfect time to act, so Carley boldly walked to the Keep, opened the door, and went in. Neasan was the only one in the great hall and she was not surprised. The Keep, her brother’s home and her father’s before him, was filled with the foul remainders of drunkenness from the previous nights.

  She had lived through it all, buried them all one by one, and was thankful she was the only family member left to see their pleasant world crumbling.

  As the old people often do, Carley remembered far too much of her youth and how her innocence was shattered when she married the wrong man—a man who was not buried in the graveyard with the family members. Instead, he was put in the ground next to other nefarious members so his soul would not taint those of the beloved. It was there she hoped to see Neasan put someday. For now, however, there was something she could do to help secure the return of the clan to the MacGreagors, and she was willing to risk her life to do it.

  Carley smiled, sat down next to Neasan at the table, and tried to ignore the filth around her. “You need a wife.”

  Seated at the head of the table where Justin and his father before him always sat, Neasan eyed her suspiciously, “I have a wife.”

  She did not take her eyes from his. “Have you gone daft?”

  At that, Neasan smiled. “Not completely. If you speak of Dena, I do not need her. I have all the pleasure a lad could want.”

  “Pleasure is a good thing, but what will you have to impress other lairds when they come to pay tribute? Surely they will, once you become a great conqueror.” She took a moment to slowly look around. The large, colorful pillows her mother kept along the walls were cut open with the stuffed feathers hanging out. Coals in the hearth were shoved aside to make room for new wood and left where they lay. Rotting food remained on the table and the floor was littered with dropped goblets and stains from spilled drinks. When she looked back, Neasan was looking around too. “What will they think of you?”

  Again, Neasan eyed her suspiciously. “You wish me well, do you? Am I to believe that?”

  “Believe what you will, I care not what you do. ‘Tis only something to talk about.”

  “Something to talk about?” He got up, walked to a table, grabbed a flask of wine, and returned to fill his goblet. “What are you up to, Carley? Why have you come to see me?”

  She waited for him to sit back down. “When you were but ten, you killed a red fox and found pleasure in it. I guessed you to become a great hunter, but you desired more. When you hurt a woman without kind regard, I talked Justin into sparing you because you were too young. I confess it was not hard to do, Justin did not wish you to be his first execution. Now you are free to hurt, force and even kill every lass in the clan if you so desire. Therefore, I have come to ask you to spare me.”

  Both his eyebrows shot up. “Spare you? I wish you no harm, Carley. How have you come to think that?”

  Carley started to get up. “‘Tis but gossip then. I feared being slain in my bed and now I will sleep more peacefully.”

  He quickly grabbed hold of her arm. “What gossip? What do they say of me?”

  She looked down at the hold he had on her arm and did not speak until he let go. “I am old and I do not recall who said it, but then I am usually the last to hear.”

  “Hear what?”

  “That you intend to do away with all the elders.”

  Neasan tried to remember if he actually said that. He must have, but as hard as he tried, he did not remember even thinking it. Worse, he had no idea whom he might have said it in front of. “But not you, Carley, I would never hurt you.”

  “There be but a few elders left. How do we plague you?”

  Still flustered, he tried to think why he might have said it so he could explain. “Perhaps because the people listen to the elders.”

  “You fear the people will rebel? Then I will tell the elders not to recommend it. They will listen to me.” Carley walked toward the door, stopped, and did not bother looking back. “You’ve a traitor in your midst who warned us, as well as the Haldane. Perhaps you should forget the elders in favor of seeking him out.” With that, she walked out the door.

  In a courtyard that was once filled with happy people, few were there standing amid still more clutter on the ground. Yet those that were there seemed happy to see her and when she smiled, they returned with smiles of their own. Carley hoped to discover which were still true MacGreagors by their smiles, but Neasan’s men also smiled. At least there was some measure of respect left for the elders even on Neasan’s side.

  As soon as she left the courtyard and turned down the path, Carley nodded to Grant so he would know the deed was done. She had not yet managed to get to her cottage before Neasan started yelling.

  The day before and behind Neasan’s back, Grant and Bearcha formed an alliance, and it was Grant who then nodded to Bearcha.
If Neasan decided who his traitor was, the two of them were set to help the man hide. It was Bearcha who guessed that Neasan, when he was sober, would believe Carley and he was right. Now all they could do was wait to see what happened.

  A TRAITOR WAS JUST one of Neasan’s problems. His warriors always seemed to be losing things. One lost a pair of shoes when he went to the loch to bathe and had to come back up the path barefoot to plead for a new pair. The items lost ranged from belts, weapons, spoons, bowls, baskets of washing the moment a women turned her back, and even some of the tools could not be accounted for.

  On the morning of Neasan’s eighth day of rule, he went to the window of his third-story bedchamber, looked out, and discovered his beloved whalebone was missing from the glen, cart and all.

  It was as though he had run completely out of rage and instead, he calmly sat on the bed he carried up himself from a downstairs bedchamber. Neasan tried to think where he had gone wrong. Being laird should not be this difficult. He should have killed someone that first day, but whom, Sawney?

  That was it, as long as Sawney still lived, the clan thought they had another choice. They did not fear Neasan as they should, and therefore his commands were not obeyed without question.

  Where was William?

  This constant disobedience, the infernal questions and the odd happenings were all carefully designed to make him go daft. Neasan could see that now. He too had expected half the clan to go with Sawney, and when they didn’t, he assumed they were truly on his side. Apparently, he assumed wrong and for all he knew, Sawney was lurking just out of sight, waiting to find him alone.

  There had to be a way to get control of the people. How had Justin done it? Love was not Neasan’s favorite word. In fact, he was never quite certain what that was, but everyone loved Justin. Therefore, love had to be the answer, but how on earth do you make people love you?

  A moment later, Neasan thought he had the answer—but first, he needed to bathe, trim his beard, and make himself presentable.

  MACKINZIE CAMPBELL missed the horse more today than most days, but once again, it did not come back. Certain Laird Campbell was looking for her after she exchanged harsh words with one of the other women, she hurried out of the village and came to her peaceful, uncomplicated sanctuary at the top of the hill.

  It was not as though she tore the plaid on purpose, Mackinzie was simply washing it when it caught on a rock in the riverbed. Such things were not her fault and it was not as though another plaid could not be easily had, for the weavers always had extras on hand.

  Mackinzie supposed she should not have called the woman a ‘scunner.’ It was the worst name one person could call another, but the word just shot out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Nor did she apologize. She saw no reason to apologize for telling the truth, the woman was a scunner. She supposed she should try to control her temper better, but whatever for. They didn’t like her anyway and Laird Campbell never punished her harshly.

  She did wonder what he had in mind for her this time, but his drinking habits were such, that if she stayed away long enough he would forget her altogether.

  It was then she heard voices in the woods behind her, ran down the side of the hill, crossed the path, and hid in the trees.

  CHAPTER IX

  ALL DAY THE MACGREAGORS noticed seagulls, smelled the pleasant aroma of the sea, and knew they were getting close. They remained on their horses, walked them out of the forest, across a small meadow, and then up to the top of the last hill.

  The vastness of the Atlantic Ocean took their breaths away. Waves crashed against red rocks on the shoreline sending sprays of water into the air. The sea receded, gathered strength, and then crashed again in a mesmerizing, yet peaceful sort of rhythm.

  Soon they dismounted, stood in the tall grass together, and simply watched the movement of the water. More seagulls soared through the air, landing occasionally on the water and then taking flight again. To the north, there appeared to be an island or two and in the opposite direction, the land rose up into high cliffs that curved around the bay.

  No one minded that the horses wandered back down the hill to the meadow, or that their muscles hurt and they were bone tired. All they wanted to do was watch the magnificent scene constantly repeating itself before them.

  MACKINZIE THOUGHT THEM an odd-looking band of people, some wearing red, some yellow, and some green. That was before she spotted the black stallion, her beloved black stallion and the very large man riding him. He rode without a halter and reins just as she always did, although that was not so very odd, many men did. She watched him dismount, stroke the side of the horse’s neck and set him free. The man helped the women and children down and then turned to look out over the ocean.

  He was the largest man she had ever seen when he stood atop her hill and although he had a pleasant enough face, she was certain he could be fierce when he wanted to be. The other men seemed unusually large too and it wasn’t long before she guessed these were the ferocious giants from the north she once heard about.

  Yet the women with them did not seem afraid and when one of the men put his arm around a woman Mackinzie guessed was his wife, she could see no fear in the woman’s face. At least these people appeared to love the ocean as much as she and Mackinzie could not find fault with that.

  “‘TIS MAGNIFICENT,” GAVINA said as Keter put his arm around her waist. “I never suspected.”

  “Nor I,” Keter pulled his wife a little closer and lovingly kissed the side of her head. “Perhaps we have found our new home.”

  Sawney glanced back at the meadow. “I agree. ‘Tis good land and...” He noticed the stallion wander toward the trees on the northern side of the hill and stop. The black seemed to be looking at something and Sawney was curious.

  “Go away,” Mackinzie whispered. When the horse didn’t move and kept looking her in the eye, her heart melted and she lovingly stroked his nose. “Aye, I am happy to see you too, but I do not wish to be discovered.” Still the horse did not move and she was becoming frustrated. Yet what could she do? Perhaps if she hugged him he would be satisfied.

  Mackinzie ran her hand along the side of the horse’s neck until she stood next to him and when he lowered his head, she looped both arms around his neck and hugged him. “There, that should do. Now...” It was too late. As soon as she stepped back and looked up, she discovered the man standing near the back of the horse staring at her.

  “It he your horse?” Sawney asked, patting the side of the black to let the stallion know he was there.

  She quickly took another step away from him. The man was even taller than she thought, his eyes were a shade of blue she had never seen before and he half frightened and half fascinated her. All she could think of to do was nod.

  “What is his name?”

  Why hadn’t she turned and run? Her heart was racing, her mind was cluttered and he kept staring at her. “‘Tis a horse too becoming to name.” Why did she say it was her horse? She had gone daft finally and this was the proof.

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  The woman standing before him had the look of someone who was up to something and it fascinated him so much, he almost forgot what he was about to say. “Aye...we happened upon him at...well, ‘tis a very long story.”

  She heard a man behind him whistle. The stranger quickly turned to look, then he turned back to face her again.

  “Riders,” said he.

  “Where?”

  “Along the water’s edge, I suspect.”

  “‘Tis Amos and Joel. Pray do not tell them you have seen me.”

  Sawney wrinkled his brow, watched her slip deeper into the forest and go out of sight. He supposed she had her reasons and he would honor her request, but she did not take the stallion with her. He would have helped her mount, but now she was gone and the horse was beginning to drift back toward the meadow.

  She was certainly pleasant to look at with her red hair, green eyes,
and that patch of freckles across her nose. Very pleasing indeed. Sawney turned around and went back up the hill to have a look at this Amos and Joel.

  In the woods, Mackinzie stopped, turned around, and looked between the trees until she was certain both the man and the horse were gone. Quietly, she made her way back to her original hiding place. She had hidden from Amos and Joel often in that very spot and not once did they notice her. Any moment now, they would ride up the path, down to the waterfall, fill their flasks, and then go back the way they came.

  When they first spotted the two men wearing scarlet kilts coming around the edge of the high cliffs, the MacGreagor warriors made sure their swords were positioned correctly and prepared to protect the clan. In silence, they watched the strangers make their way along the shore. They didn’t appear to be in any hurry and soon the MacGreagors realized these were men in the service of the King of Scots. The strangers sat upon scarlet plaids thrown over the horse’s backs and wore matching kilts with scarlet capes to keep off the chill in the air.

  The riders turned their direction, started up the hill, spotted the MacGreagors, and came to a quick halt. Then one of them shouted, “We are in need of the good water on your land, nothing more. We mean you no harm.”

  Sawney motioned for the strangers to come, then spread his legs and clasped his hands behind his back. “I wonder where the sweet water is?” he muttered.

  Blare did the same and smiled. “I suspect they are about to show us.”

  “What clan are you?” the other stranger asked, guiding his horse up the north side of the hill until he was close enough to talk without shouting. Joel glanced at the women and saw one he found pleasing, but did not dare show it for fear she was wife to one of the men.