“It’s true that he’s back,” Lilidh conceded, “but he’s a changed man, and most certainly no' up to his auld tricks.”
Cora laughed softly, shaking her head. “Ye are delusional, girl. I need to keep this job, so I willnae say what I really think, but ye are truly delusional. Men like MacBrennan dinnae change. They just wait. Now get gone out of my sight. Back to that murderer.”
Lilidh hesitated, wanting to defend Mathe, but instead remained silent and watched Cora storm out. She turned back to Torrey to explain, but the other girl shook her head almost sadly.
“Why didnae ye say anything?” she asked.
Lilidh felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them away almost angrily. “Ye heard Cora yesterday; people hate Mathe, whether he deserves it or no'. He had naught to do with her brother’s death, and yet she blames him all the same. How does Mathe even stand a chance against that kind of hatred?”
“Lilidh,” Torrey said slowly, “ye know MacBrennan did unforgivable things, dinnae ye?”
She almost laughed. “Better than anyone, Torrey, I lived with him and watched him change. And since he’s been back, I’ve watched him change again. I wouldnae be with him if I didnae believe he’s a better man.”
“If he changes so easily, what’s to say he willnae change back a third time?” Torrey asked. “Or if he’s actually changed at all?”
“He’s changed,” she said in a small voice, then turned and walked away with her head still held high. She could have argued, she knew. She could have defended Mathe and tried to convince Torrey, at least, but deep down she knew it was no use. To most of the people of the town, Mathe MacBrennan was, and always would be, a monster. She wanted to scream from the top of the castle about how he was with Fynn, and how he was with her. How he held her so gently and made her feel loved and precious once more.
But she knew it was hopeless.
And, at the back of her mind, the small nagging voice. How did Mathe’s return become known? She recalled the way he’d avoided the old quarter yesterday, checking behind him almost nervously, and that very night word had spread about his reappearance. Lilidh didn’t know what it meant, but something about the whole situation sent a shiver through her. Had he been seen and recognised? Was she ready for people to learn about Mathe’s return?
And what did it mean for herself and Fynn?
Lilidh skipped across the wooden planks and onto the porch and opened the door. No sooner had she walked in than her son leapt up, holding the bucket proudly.
“Look, mama!” he cried. “I caught a fish.”
Lilidh pushed away the dark thoughts that clouded her mind and smiled down at her son. “Why Fynn, that’s wonderful. And such a large fish, too. Are ye sure it was ye who caught it?”
“It was me,” he replied indignantly. “Mathe helped scoop it up, but I caught it and pulled it in. I’m strong, mama.”
She laughed and pulled him into a hug. “Of course ye are.” She pulled back and looked around. “Where is Mathe?”
“He had to go,” Fynn said.
“Go?”
“Aye, he said he had business to take care of, and he’d see us both tomorrow.”
Lilidh frowned, then smoothed it away. “No' to worry,” she said lightly. “It’s just a pity that he’ll miss out on this wonderful fish.”
“We could take it to him,” Fynn suggested. “He keeps saying how much he loves yer potatoes.”
“I’m no' sure,” Lilidh said uncertainly. “It sounds like he’s busy. Now, tell me about the rest of yer day while I prepare this fish.”
Fynn started his tale, telling her of their entire adventure, starting from the walk through town and into the woods, while Lilidh cleaned and cooked the fish. His words came out in a tumble, such was his eagerness to tell her everything.
“Wait,” Lilidh interrupted. “Say that again.”
Fynn looked up. “Somebody came and spoke to Mathe.”
“Where?”
The boy frowned. “Over at the auld building that was falling down.”
Lilidh nodded. He must have meant the old mill. But who would be speaking to Mathe outside of the town, down by the river? “Did he say who it was?”
“Aye, he said it was about that business thing. The… commission.” He spoke the last word proudly. “I said it, mama!”
“Aye, well done, Fynn. The commission. Did they speak for long?”
“Nay, only a few minutes. Then he came back, and that’s when I caught my fish!”
“What did he look like?”
“Auld,” Fynn replied. “He had long hair and a long beard. That’s all I could see.”
She nodded and gave him an encouraging smile, even while she felt a strange sickness in her stomach. She grimaced at the feeling, telling herself it was silly.
“What’s the matter, mama?”
Lilidh shook her head. “Naught, bhobain.” And perhaps she was right. It was more than likely a chance encounter, as Fynn said, and yet she found herself in a strange emotional state. Mathe was slightly vague when he first mentioned the commission two days ago. And then there was his reluctance at the edge of the old quarter yesterday. Cora’s words today, and now Fynn’s tale of a chance encounter. It was all likely nothing, and yet these things combined in Lilidh’s mind, growing into something larger than simply the sum of their parts. She wouldn’t have thought herself the type of person to read things into coincidence, but Lilidh knew she needed to find out, just for her own peace of mind. She wasn’t one for half truths or miscommunication and preferred to just get straight to the heart of the matter.
She needed to ask Mathe.
“Ye know, bhobain, I think I will take Mathe some of this fish over tonight.”
“Oh great,” he said, clapping his hands. “He’ll be so happy.”
“I’m sure he will be.” She plated up one serving and covered it with a dishcloth, then sat down and ate with Fynn. He was clearly enjoying himself, picking the fish apart and attacking it with his fork, but Lilidh couldn’t seem to focus on the meal. Her thoughts kept returning to Mathe, and the strange feeling she felt building inside. A slow sickness had bloomed in her stomach and wouldn’t cease, sitting heavy like a rock. She ate dutifully, forcing the food in, her appetite gone.
“All done, mama,” Fynn announced, patting his stomach. “I loved it.”
It was almost a pity Lilidh was feeling as poorly as she was, and wondered whether she should learn how to fish herself; the two of them could go down to the Dundonnell on her days off and catch dinner. The idea was strangely appealing. Then she stood with a sigh, put on her coat, and picked up Mathe’s plate.
“A little cold,” she said, “but it should still taste fine.”
“He’ll love it,” Fynn said.
“Aye. Well, ye stay here, and I’ll be back soon.”
“I will, mama. Tell Mathe I said hello.”
Lilidh slipped out into the night, her stomach roiling, feeling herself gripped by a strange sense of premonition. What would Mathe say when she confronted him? Did he have an innocent explanation, or would he deny everything as simple coincidence?
The beautiful day was a distant memory as she stepped out into a dreich evening. Rain swept across the ground in sheets, kicking up mist and drizzle, and Lilidh did her best to keep the food dry as she skipped across to the cobbled road. The air was foggy and visibility was low, with a fell wind cutting through her coat. She put her head down and hurried towards the West Gate and the warmth within.
She figured Mathe would be in the stables, so rather than go through the busy common room with a plate of her own food, Lilidh made her way to the alleyway at the rear of the building where the external stable doors were. As she approached, though, the door swung open. She couldn’t say why, but something made her pause and step to one side, into the shadow of an overhanging building, partly hidden behind a stack of wooden barrels. She peered around the side to see a dark shape emerge from the stables; tall, with a coat pull
ed up to cover his head against the rain. There was no mistaking who it was. As she watched, Mathe glanced around quickly, and she pulled back, heart suddenly hammering in her chest. Slowly, slowly, she looked back to see him walking away in long strides, head down.
Lilidh watched him leave and was suddenly torn. She could put his food in the stables for when he returned, or take it back and share it with Fynn, who wouldn’t likely refuse.
Or… she could follow Mathe.
The thought made her frown. She certainly wasn’t going to spy on her husband. Only, the strange premonition returned to her once again, and she was beset by doubt. Would it hurt, just to check where he was going on such a foul night?
With shaking hands, Lilidh put the plate down on a barrel, out of the rain, and followed Mathe into the fog.
He walked quickly and she needed to scramble to keep him in sight, lest he disappear altogether. The rain fell steadily on her and she could feel it run down under her coat. It wasn’t the proper thing to wear, but she also hadn’t expected to be sneaking around in such poor weather, and once again she asked herself what on earth she was doing.
Mathe paused in his walking, and she crouched behind a cart, looking through the spoked wheel. He turned in a full circle, looking around, and she held her breath as his eyes swept over her, but he gave no hint of recognition. It was a strange gesture, and if Lilidh didn’t know any better, she would have said he was checking for anyone following him. Had he sensed her, somehow? The sickness returned as she considered the only other option; that he simply didn’t want to be seen.
They made their way past the castle hill, and she couldn’t help but notice how he avoided the main avenues and wound through alleyways and smaller streets. He twisted and turned, picking directions seemingly at random, and more than once repeated his slow look around. Each time Lilidh darted behind something, but her nerves were ragged and she knew it was only a matter of time before he realised he was being followed.
And then, after one more desperate crouch, Lilidh peered out to see that Mathe had gone. She frowned, looking around, but he was nowhere to be seen. She sat back in the rain and shook her head. After all that, she’d let him get away.
Or had she? As she’d been following him, Lilidh couldn’t help but notice that despite the random path, Mathe kept heading to the eastern side of town, towards the old quarter. Her heart quaked at the thought, and yet she somehow knew deep down that it was his destination all along, despite the subterfuge.
Well, she supposed there was only one way to find out.
Lilidh abandoned the alleyways and went back to the Main Street, standing under an overhanging roof and counting slowly to one hundred to give Mathe enough time to wind his way to his ultimate destination. Then she set off, heading directly down into the old quarter.
Apart from the day before, when they’d skirted the edges, Lilidh didn’t think she’d ever been down to that part of town, and pulled her coat tighter. She’d heard all sorts of rumours about the type of things that happened down there and gave silent thanks that the rain would keep most people indoors tonight. It wasn’t a safe place for anyone, she suspected, but especially for a woman alone. No braziers would stay lit in this weather, and the night was full of dark shadows.
She heard the Dog Ear before she saw it; a cacophony of shouts and coarse laughter. The glow of the inn fell upon the squalid houses opposite, and Lilidh wondered if perhaps she didn’t have the worst house in town, after all. Down here, everything seemed dirty and rundown and refuse piled up in the corners of doorways. The cobbled street was slick and covered in mud, and she picked her way carefully towards the noise and the light. There was a bank of shuttered windows thrown open and so she crossed the street to stand in the shadow of the squalid house and looked in.
And there she saw Mathe.
Her chest tightened painfully as she watched someone pass him a tankard, and then the room erupted into a cheer. Cries of MacBrennan filled the air and then they chanted as Mathe tipped the ale into his mouth, taking the entire tankard in slow draughts, before slamming the empty cup down and wiping his lips.
Lilidh shook her head slowly from side to side, wrapping her hands around herself protectively as she watched.
Mathe laughing in his old, cruel laugh.
Mathe drinking and coaxing others to drink, shaking hands and receiving claps on the back.
Mathe standing tall and arrogant, wrapping himself in a persona that he’d sworn to her was long dead.
Nay, not Mathe. As Lilidh watched, she came to a most painful realisation that the man she watched wasn’t Mathe at all.
It was MacBrennan.
She pulled back and retreated, the sickness returning in full force, knowing she’d seen enough. She turned back towards home, having a sudden desire to hold Fynn close, her mind awhirl with what she’d just seen.
What was Mathe doing, to say he was a changed man, and then come down here and act as if he’d never left? Was everything he’d told her a lie? For one moment she felt suddenly helpless, adrift in the storm, and she knew just how much she’d come to care for Mathe MacBrennan once again. To see him as she just did was like a knife in her heart, a twisting betrayal, and it hurt beyond belief.
In the rain and the fog, Lilidh stumbled away.
19
Mathe MacBrennan
Mathe looked out over the Dundonnell and lost himself in the movement of the water.
The rain had stopped overnight, but the sky was steel grey above, and the river flowed high from runoff in the surrounding hills. The sound of the water was like a balm to his pounding head, and Mathe asked himself what he was doing. His mouth was as dry as sawdust, and even the slightest movement brought a stab of pain in between his eyes. He’d barely drunk any ale since he’d returned to Dun Lagaidh, and indeed in the last six years, so why did he think it a good idea to partake last night with such enthusiasm?
The answer, of course, was to set people at ease, and to establish that he was one of them. And despite that, he was still no closer to being brought into their confidence than he was before he’d stepped foot into that horrible place.
Footsteps echoed along the jetty, and he lifted his head slightly, waiting for Fergus. The old man groaned as he knelt down and sat next to him, and they both looked into the water for long moments.
“Good news?” the steward asked at last.
Mathe shook his head. “Nay.”
Fergus frowned. “Anything at all?”
“I could give ye the names of everyone in the place, but nobody opened themselves up to me. They might be coy, or they might be innocent. I felt… something, though. Like there were words unsaid, things around me I couldnae grasp. There’s something there, I know it. But they willnae let me in yet.”
Fergus swore softly. “We’re running out of time.”
“Aye,” Mathe replied. “If I had more of it, I could do this slowly. Start small, form closer bonds, establish myself as someone they can trust.”
“I’m doubtful that Blaine will grant ye more time. Scouts report a massive movement of MacDonald troops. Things are happening around us, and if these secret supporters of the auld laird are going to move, it will be now.”
Mathe nodded. “Even if that wasnae the case, I need this to end. I’m lying to Lilidh and Fynn.”
“For their good, though,” Fergus pointed out.
“Perhaps.”
“Ye have doubts?”
“I cannae help but ask myself if a house is worth what I would put her through, were she to find out.”
“Blaine doesnae want ye to do anything ye’re no' comfortable with,” Fergus reminded him. “Aye, he wants those names, but he’s also a good man. If ye want to walk away, tell me.”
Mathe frowned. A part of him wanted to walk away; to leave this behind and go back to Lilidh and Fynn and do the things he swore he would do. And yet one of those things was to make amends, and to give them what they deserved. They certainly didn’t deserve
the tenement house on the western wall.
“I’ll try once more,” he said. “Tonight. If I cannae get anything, then it’s over. Nay names, and nay house.”
Fergus nodded. “What makes ye think tonight will be different?”
“I need to force their hand, somehow. To make them accept me.”
“Without raising suspicion,” the old man pointed out.
“Oh, aye,” Mathe said and gave a humourless smile. “Easy, right? After all, we’re only dealing with traitors and possibly even murderers.”
“Dinnae risk yerself, Mathe. Blaine made that clear.”
“He did, and I willnae,” Mathe said. “I cannae leave Lilidh and Fynn alone again. Dinnae worry; I have an idea or two.”
The old man rose and patted him on the shoulder. “I’d be surprised if ye didnae. This time tomorrow?”
“As ye wish.”
Fergus nodded and left him, and Mathe turned back to the water and heard the old man’s footsteps recede into the distance. He had some ideas, all right, although none of them were appealing to him. But then again, the whole situation he’d found himself in wasn’t appealing, so perhaps the best thing was just to get it done and over with as quickly as he could. One more night, one more attempt, and he could put his hand on his heart and say he tried his best.
But first, Mathe needed to borrow a shaving blade and a shovel.
In the ruins of the old farmhouse, the closest thing to a home that he’d ever known, Mathe balanced Mèirleach na Beatha in his hand.
It was heavier than he remembered. The blade was wider than most swords, and shorter, being made for thrusting and close quarters combat rather than battlefield heroics. Even after all this time, the blade was still sharp. The steel was bright despite the overcast morning, and he could see the distinct wave pattern when the light hit it just right. The ruby buried in the hilt was as large as a quail’s egg and as red as blood.
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 18