by Alisa Adams
Wolf’s eyes narrowed into slits as he thought deeply. He ran his hand over his jaw. His brothers were much too young, they were small boys when he left. That would leave his sister? He said her name aloud, at the same time that Beak did.
“Cat,” Wolf and Beak said in unison.
At Swan’s interested look, Wolf explained. “Me sister Catriona, as the next eldest, she would be running the castle, and the people of Clan McKay.”
“Aye, milord,” Beak said as he puffed furiously on his pipe. He was truly enjoying watching these two. “Lady Catriona McKay of Clan McKay in Caithness has made quite the name for herself.”
“What do ye know of me sister?” Wolf demanded of Beak.
“Enough,” Beak said.
“Beak,” Swan said admonishingly.
“Me apologies Lord Mckay,” Beak said, doffing his imaginary hat to Wolf. “I mean no disrespect, milord.” He glanced over at Swan, then back at Wolf. “Ye knew yer parents had died, milord. Ye never wondered how yer sister was faring as the leader of yer clan?”
“I didnae worry,” Wolf said arrogantly. “Clan McKay is the strongest of the Highland warrior clans,” Wolf snarled. “She has more warriors to protect her than she needs.”
Swan’s voice came softly. “Ye know this to be true? With all that is happening in the Highlands?”
“She is too far north to be—” Wolf stopped suddenly. He looked at Swan, then turned to Beak.
“What do ye know of her? Ye said enough.” Wolf stood up, looking down at the skinny old man who sat so calmly smoking his pipe. “Tell me what ye know old mon ere I lie ye in the dirt where ye sit!” Wolf snapped.
“Ye will not touch him!” Swan snapped back at Wolf as she jumped up and glared at him.
“He will not touch me, rest easy Lady Swan,” Beak said calmly as he puffed on his pipe. “Laird McKay is known to be a man of honor, a man who follows the strict rules of war. He only attacks when necessary or ordered by the King, and niver innocent or defenseless women, children, and auld men. Tis the rule of war for our Scots warriors, though the same cannae be said for the English,” he said with disdain and spit on the ground. “Isnae that correct milord?”
“Aye,” Wolf said curtly. “Though ye are making me question that rule of honor. And how English I have become,” he growled. “Now, answer the question. Me sister?”
“Cat McKay is a fierce leader of her Highland clan. She has made a name for herself milord.” Beak spoke calmly. “She is well and safe, as are her people.”
“But the Clearances?” Swan asked.
“Have not dared to try the wrath of the warrior clan of the Highland Mckays,” Beak said. “Tis known that McKay warriors are so many in number and fighting skill that they make up their own regiment for the King.”
Swan gasped. “Are ye part of the Black Watch Army then?” she demanded as she spun back to Wolf.
“Aye,” Wolf stated succinctly.
“I assume ye are their leader, Lord McKay?” she asked tersely.
“Aye, of the McKay regiment of the Black Watch,” Wolf answered her truthfully.
Swan held his eyes. “Then what are ye doing here?” she asked forcefully.
Wolf just looked at her.
“Where is this wondrous Highland McKay regiment?” Swan demanded. “Where are all your skilled Highland McKay warriors?” Swan pressed as she took another step towards him, looking at him like a furious, avenging angel. “Where was the Black Watch Army when we were attacked? Isnae that the purpose of the Black Watch Army?” Her voice grew even louder, stronger with her anger and passion. “To defend the people of the Highlands from the misuse and cruelties of the Clearances? To stand between those that love and those that would take it all away?” she railed at him as she tried to stop the tears from spilling out of her eyes. She stood there with her hands in tight fists at her sides, a tear finally escaping to slide down her cheek. When he said nothing, she spun around and stalked off.
Kaithria and Neely jumped up to follow her.
Wolf stared at the ground, his hands in tight fists at his hips.
“She had a vera good question Lord McKay,” Beak said quietly as he studied the huge warrior. He puffed his pipe as he stared at him, deep in thought, letting out small puffs of smoke now and then. Swan’s words had stung the Highlander. He found that very interesting.
“I believe ye to be a vera honorable man, Lord McKay,” Beak said.
“Aye,” Wolf said.
“A good man, indeed one of the best of men, one who shows mercy, not malice. One who men vie to follow, and follow into the pits of hell, so I have heard. Knowing that only ye can win, and lead them back out.” Beak said, letting out a white, billowy puff of smoke. “I saw ye as ye fought her. Ye were careful. Ye were never going tae harm her. That was obvious, even to me auld eyes.”
“Aye,” Wolf said as he stared after Swan. Then he looked down at the ground again, his jaw working tightly.
“Why are ye here, as she asked ye milord?” Beak asked cautiously.
Wolf slowly looked up. His eyes met the cloudy, watery blue eyes of the old man. Eyes filled with age and wisdom, and the haunted memories of one who had seen more than most men could ever wish to see in their lifetime.
“Did ye not wonder why ye had three attacks?” Wolf ground out. “Why did they destroy everything in Brough? As if they were looking for something, and when they didnae find it, they left?” Wolf asked him slowly and deliberately. “They didnae capture the Lady of the castle and demand marriage to secure Brough as their own, nor did they kill her. Dinnae ye wonder aboot that?” he growled in a low voice.
“Aye, I did," Beak answered. "I have been asking meself that question," he said, staring at the big warrior, "and Lady Swan has worried herself to death wondering why. Though the first two attacks we fought...we fought well and hard. She was a wondrous sight to watch milord. She led a well planned defense and they left. Or is that not why they left? Not because they were defeated, but because they dinnae find what they were looking for?" He paused, staring at the pipe in his hand. "But what were they looking for?” Then he narrowed his eyes on the big Highland warrior. “Something tells me that ye know.”
10
Wolf studied the old man. He looked over and saw Keir watching him. Wolf nodded to him, signaling him to come over. He knew Keir had been listening to everything.
Beak watched as the other warrior came over to sit with them. Beak looked between the two big Highlanders. He had forgotten how large and strong the Highland warriors could be. How intimidating. He was glad they were on their side. At least he hoped they were. “Ye are here for a purpose, isnae this true milord?” When the two Highlanders just looked at him with steely jaws, he tried again. “Weel now, are ye gaunnie tell me or no? I must know who or what I am to be protecting me Lady Swan from,” Beak said firmly.
Wolf and Keir exchanged grim glances, but they kept silent.
“She’s a hard-headed lass,” Beak said, “and will not allow others to fight for her, milord. She will avoid fighting at all costs. She is really a timid lass. Tis what she did during the attacks on Brough. She managed a clever defense, using our warriors on the walls of the castle. Until the last one. Twas only us left by then. She took us all and hid us in the same sea cliff caves she had hid the children on each attack. We stayed while they ransacked everything and burnt it all to the ground, save a few cottages. I know it pained her not to try to fight for Brough, but what was there to do? If not for the children, I know she would've fought and died.”
Wolf and Keir looked at each other. Wolf was imagining this one woman against an army. She had done the right thing. The only thing she could have done. He did not want to imagine what would have happened to Swan. Death would have been the easiest thing.
Beak stared at the ground. Tears had come to his eyes and he angrily swiped at them. “I keep an eye out for her, always have since her da died when she was but a wee small girl,” Beak said and looked up, pointing
his pipe at the two warriors. He took a calming breath. “She was always running away, riding across the heath on those big, brute horses with all that red hair flying out behind her.” Beak looked beyond the heath, his eyes gazing into the past. “Just a wee, tiny, little lass, always jumping up on any horse available in me barn and riding away with me calling after her. Drove me to hitting those tiny leather balls with this silly club, she did! Sich a tiny thing on those big horses. She was afraid of anything and everything else, but the horses. Scared the life out of me, I tell yee. But none could ride any better. Och, not a one that I have seen.
“Her mither was like her, a true horsewoman. But she died giving birth to her. Her da was niver the same after that.” Then he raised his head and looked Wolf in the eye. “I will look after her til me last breath. And that is love, something ye know nothing about yer lordship. It's vera different than loyalty to a king. Dying for the one ye love is the only thing worth dying for. She is correct about that milord. So if there is something ye know and are not telling me, ye best tell me noo!” His old watery eyes narrowed. “Or bi crivens I will bash me club into yer head in yer sleep and end yer life, lord or no!” At that Beak stuck his pipe in his mouth and glared at them.
Wolf tried to smile at the old man's tirade as he sat up straighter. His mind was still filled with all the images of Swan that the old man had just described. His chest felt tight, and he rubbed it absentmindedly.
“Tell him Wolf,” Keir said quietly. “He needs to know. He should know.”
Beak looked at Keir, then expectantly at Wolf. “Ye came with only the two of ye, deep into the Caithness Highlands, during the Clearances. Without yer army, as Lady Swan said. So that means ye are on a secretive type mission, or going home. But from what ye said earlier to Lady Swan I dinnae think that is it,” Beak said, staring at the two huge Highlanders.
“We need no army to accompany us into Caithness,” Wolf growled, looking at Beak with his jaw firmly closed.
“So there is something secretive going on,” Beak stated. “Those who attacked Brough were clearly searching, else they wouldnae have ransacked Brough as they did. Nor did they demand whatever it was, or is, that they were, or are, looking for.”
Wolf sighed. “True, there was nothing usual about the attacks on Brough. Demands were not made, as is typical of attacking armies.” Wolf‘s eyes bored into Beak’s. “What do ye know of the children? I know they are not hers.” Wolf did not need to state that “her” was Swan.
“They are orphans,” grunted Beak. “That is really all we know.”
“From Brough?” Wolf asked curtly.
“No,” Beak said slowly, taking a puff of his pipe, “not all, milord. Probably half came from other villages that were cleared.”
“Which children, and which villages?” Wolf asked quickly.
“I do not know. Swan never asked, she just welcomed them and gave them food, shelter, and clothing,” Beak explained.
Wolf thought for a moment. “The other two women, are they from Brough?”
Beak’s eyes went to Wolf. “Neilina is. She is the one we call Neely.”
“Is she the nun?” asked Keir. “Or the angry-looking one that Teeth has enjoyed playing with?” Keir added with a droll grin.
Beak chuckled slightly. “Neely is the angry one. Kaithria is the one who wears the black cloak all the time. Do ye think she knows something, Lord McKay? She did bring in a few of the orphan children. We heard that they came from a priory that was serving as an orphanage. She wears the trappings of a nun after all, but goes by the name Kaithria.” Beak ran his long, boney fingers through the hair that was sticking straight up on his scalp. “Wouldnae she be called Sister Kaithria then, if she was a holy woman?” He sighed and puffed on his pipe. “She has never mentioned a priory or convent, only that the village they were in went through the Clearances. I know not where or which village. She has not said. We all were more concerned about surviving.”
Wolf and Keir glanced at each other.
Wolf asked, “Did any of the warriors who attacked Brough say anything, do anything that was unusual?”
Beak snapped his fingers. “Kaithria heard that a warrior asked where the children were.”
Wolf sat back and stroked his chin, eyeing Beak with an arched brow.
Keir sat silently, thinking. "That's it then," Keir said to Wolf.
"Aye," Wolf said, his voice low, deep, and gruff.
“They are looking for children?” Beak asked. “But why? What do they want with the children?”
“Not children,” he said darkly. “One child. A boy.”
Beak’s pipe fell out of his mouth. He stared hard at Wolf. “Which boy?” he demanded.
Wolf looked down at the ground. “That is the part I am not sure of.” He looked back up and stroked his jaw. “The three little boys here are all so close in age it could be any of them. They are all light-haired, all between five and seven years old from what I can tell. It could be any of them.”
Keir cleared his throat. “Between five and seven years old?” he asked Wolf. “Did the—” he stopped himself quickly. “Were you not told the exact age of the boy?”
“No,” Wolf said, “and I didnae ask.” He narrowed his eyes meaningfully at Keir. “There are some things ye dinnae demand from...well, ye just dinnae ask.”
Keir shook his head. “Ye mean to tell me he didnae know the age of his own—”
“Keir!” Wolf snarled.
Beak coughed. “Weel noo, I think I understand Lord McKay. I have been around long enough to hear what ye are not saying. Let’s see if am gaunnie get this correct. Ye are here on the request of someone of importance who cannae be named, to look for this person’s son? And, I am guessing that there are others looking as well? In the guise of Clearances?”
Wolf scowled. “Yes,” he said curtly, eyeing the old man.
Beak chuckled and bounced around on his seat a bit. “Ha! So what is the next step men?”
Wolf growled slightly. “Lives have been lost, homes have been lost old man. This is serious.”
“Aye, this I know milord,” Beak said firmly. “Ye canne blame an old man for being proud he figured what your mission here was.” He smiled at both of the huge Highlanders. “So what is to be done?”
“We will be escorting ye to Fionnaghal,” Wolf said.
11
“What do ye mean ye are escorting us to Fionnaghal?” Swan demanded from Wolf as he rode beside her on Peigi.
“Just what I said. Tis a long journey—” Wolf started to say more but stopped himself.
How could he say to this woman who had fought so valiantly to protect Brough that they would never make it on their own?
That they needed protection.
That they would surely be set upon, at the very least by thieves, if not worse.
That he did not want to ride away from her.
Swan glared at him. “Yes, and we have managed so far, by ourselves,” she said meaningfully to the big Highlander.
How could she tell him that his presence distracted her?
Made her think of him when she needed to be thinking of the safety of her people.
Made her heart race and her breathing speed up.
Made her look for him in the group of horses and riders, or around camp.
“Perhaps,” Wolf said, “but as I told ye, as ye get closer to crowded parishes there will always be those that will wish ye harm.” Wolf spoke low and deep, for her ears only. "My word is truth," he said firmly.
"Tis ridiculous. Ye cannae just say that whenever ye dinnae wish to discuss any more on a matter!"
"I can," he stated, looking straight ahead.
“Ye cannae,” she said firmly, not looking at him. She held her chin high, determined not to give in.
“Why?” he said simply as he glanced over at her, watching the graceful sway of her hips in the saddle.
“Because I said so,” she said primly.
Wolf waited for her to expand
on that as he had noticed she was wont to.
But she did not. She just kept her pert little chin and her full lips tilted up, with her back rigid and straight, and determined, as usual. He thought she looked quite regal. Her ladylike primness and determination was ruined by the sight of her wildly blowing, fiery curls blowing out behind her. All that mass of hair was touched softly with gold on the silken strands whenever she went through a patch of sunlight.
Wolf turned away, firming his jaw. He had a duty to do for his King.
He kept his big brown stallion beside Swan’s mare Peigi. The young mare was quite annoyed by his stallion’s presence and squealed every now and then, tossing her head angrily as she performed her slow, highly exaggerated trot. Wolf watched as Swan was able to sit that big, elevated trot. When the mare got too fast, Swan held her by stilling her seat so that the mare was almost trotting in place, lowering her haunches, and lifting her shoulders—her long, black neck arching like a swan. When the mare calmed, Swan released her seat and pushed the mare back on. It was a sight to see as Swan used her left leg to push the mare in a sideways trot away from the stallion, then her right leg to push her back towards him. She was diverting the young mare’s focus to her aids as she asked the mare to maintain a steady trot obediently under her rider’s seat and legs.
Wolf’s stallion flared his nostrils and arched his neck in a show of his strength and beauty. At a deep growl from Wolf the stallion settled. Wolf looked over at Swan with a tight grin. She nodded at him with a controlled smile of her own. Wolf knew she had her hands full. He also knew he should move the stallion away from the young mare but he wanted to be near Swan.
“Care to switch mounts?” Swan said to him.
“I can move him away from her,” he said.
“No! Dinnae do that. She must listen to her rider, in any circumstance! Just as yer Hell does.”
Wolf nodded his head with respect, glancing at Swan’s hips and lithe, graceful thighs as she controlled the black mare.
He watched as Peigi squealed again and Swan quickly collected her with her seat once again. The mare instantly sat back, collecting and compressing her body and trotting in place. When Swan had her attention she pushed with her seat, and put both legs on the mare. Wolf watched as the mare pushed off into an awe-inspiring trot where the mare stretched her front legs out and pushed with her hind legs into a forward, extended trot. The beautiful black mare’s neck arched elegantly, her incredibly long, black mane flowed out behind her, mixing in with her mistress’s swirling skirts. The feathers around the mare’s hooves blew and her long black tail flagged out behind her.