“Ye would call yer own father a murderer, just like that silly little girl did? Ye are pathetic—and to think that ye shall be Laird after I am gone. If ye speak to me in such a manner again, then I shall have ye turned out of this castle too, along with the girl. Dae nae cross me, Alistair. A father should receive complete loyalty from his son, just ye ponder that,” Fraser said, and turning he marched out of the Great Hall.
He needed certainty over Duncan’s death, for until he had it there was still danger. Fraser knew his claim to be Laird of the Campbell’s was an uncertain one. Duncan was the true heir and his return had caused murmurings amongst the clan. Fraser was determined to see them stamped out, and with Christmas Eve fast approaching he carefully planned his next move.
Chapter 8
A Spy in the Midst
Duncan had not left the home of Brodie Macintyre since Hamish and his father had picked the young Laird up from clearing and taken him in. Thanks to the ministrations of Christina and Lena, his strength was now almost fully recovered. Whatever noxious substance had been applied to the rag soon wore off and his bruises from being dragged through the forest began to subside. As his strength returned, his thoughts turned to what would happen next. His uncle had wanted him dead, but he knew that the support of the clan was with him.
Duncan faced a stark choice; he could go into exile and escape from his uncle forever or return to the castle and confront him. If he left, then he would never see Arabel again, but if he stayed then he risked losing the life which had been gifted him by the mercy of uncle’s soldiers. But love would win out and Duncan hardly entertained the thought of going into exile for more than a few moments.
“I am feelin’ stronger today,” he said as Christina passed him a bowl of porridge from the large pot above the fire.
It was the day before Christmas eve and outside there had been a reprieve in the weather. It was no longer snowing. The skies were bright and clear, but the air was icy and the ground had frozen solid. Hamish and his father had gone out collecting wood and by the time they arrived back Duncan was up and on his feet.
“Well, ye are lookin’ far more like the Laird than a few days ago,” Brodie said, nodding in approval at Duncan who smiled.
“I am goin’ to walk down to the castle. Dae nae worry, I will nae let myself be seen. But I need to see for myself what has happened there and what I can dae about it,” Duncan said as Christina turned to him with a worried look upon her face.
“He will kill ye if he sees ye,” she said, shaking her head.
“He will nae see me and I have more friends there than enemies. I must dae it. I cannae sit around here any longer broodin’ over what may or may nae be. On Christmas Eve I plan to confront him, at the feast,” Duncan said. “Dae ye have a sword, Brodie? I would be mighty glad of one if ye dae.”
“I am only a peasant, peasant’s dinna have swords. But my grandfather fought for yer grandfather in the wars against the Wallace’s and I have his sword, though in what state it is I dinna ken,” Bryce said, pulling out a chest from behind the bed at the back of the cave.
He drew out a sword in its scabbard and handed it to Duncan, who smiled and pulled it out. The blade had rusted a little, but it had once been a fine weapon and he handled it dexterously, whirling it around, much to the delight of young Hamish.
“Dinna be gettin’ ideas of brave deeds now, Hamish,” his father said, eyeing his son with a smile.
“Ah, let the lad dream. We may need all the help we can get,” Duncan replied. “I’m goin’ to the castle now. Dinna worry, I will be careful, but I have to see what the situation down there is and whether there would be any sense in action. I dinna want to walk straight into a trap.”
“Be careful, Duncan,” Christina said, “we need our Laird, we forest folk will support ye.”
“Aye, that’s right and I shall take a walk myself and see if I cannae raise some support amongst the ordinary folks in the woods,” Bryce said, and he nodded to Duncan, who strode purposefully from the cottage.
His feet sounded crisp upon the frozen snow and he glanced around him, lest any enemy be close at hand. But there was nothing in the forest save the chirping of a robin on a branch which hopped along beside him.
“Good day to ye, robin red breast, will ye fly alongside me to the castle?” Duncan said, smiling at the little bird which cocked its head and flew to the next branch.
Duncan knew the way back to the castle as though it were only yesterday that he had had last walked along these paths as a boy. The forest had been a second home to him as a youngster and he soon found his way along a less used path, being careful to hide his tracks in the snow. But he needn’t have feared, and he met no one during his walk, nor saw sight of any soldiers loyal to his uncle.
The little robin accompanied him almost to the castle, but as though flying up to it were a bad omen, it disappeared into the trees just as the walls came into sight. Duncan paused, his hand on the hilt of the sword, lest anyone be lying in wait. But the only sounds were the occasional fall of snow from a branch and Duncan’s own feet, crunching through the snow. He paused by a little frozen stream and looked up through the trees to the imposing walls above. He could see no sentries, but it would not do to be seen and so he crept through the foliage, keeping close to the castle wall. Circling the ramparts, he came almost to the gate and hid himself in a large holly bush with a hollowed out middle where he, Arabel, and Alistair would often make dens as children.
Now, it served as a perfect hiding place from which to watch the comings and goings of the castle. The road was busy and the last of the guests to the Christmas feast were arriving. So close was Duncan to the path that he could hear the conversations of those going back and forth. He recognized several of them, though they were older than his youthful recollections. There was one couple that he knew particularly, Fergus and Elizabeth Lewis, who had been close friends of his mother’s and had always been particularly fond of Duncan as a boy.
“Tis’ a sad thing we shall nae see Duncan. I was so lookin’ forward to his bein’ here,” Fergus said, shaking his head.
“Aye, the poor lad. He was a fool to walk off into the forest like that. Surely he must have realized the wolves are hungry at this time of year,” Elizabeth replied.
Duncan strained his neck to hear, astonished at what he had just heard.
“There’s more to it than that, I am certain,” Fergus replied, pausing just a few feet from Duncan and turning to his wife, “a lot of folks are sayin’ that Fraser had somethin’ to dae with it and I wouldnae be surprised myself. Everyone knows that Duncan is the rightful heir and if he appeared before us now, he would be acclaimed as such. Fraser was scared and so he got rid of him. It makes perfect sense, but who amongst us will dare say it.”
Elizabeth shook her head and took her husband’s hand, as Duncan watched from the holly bush. His heart was beating fast, the thought that he had the support of the clan against his uncle a fact which could only spurn him on to further action. Should he challenge him? Stride out immediately and make a claim to his rightful inheritance? But it would be foolish now, far better to wait until the clan was gathered for the feast.
He was just about to turn and creep back along the castle walls when fresh footfall made him pause. He turned and looked towards the castle gate where the solitary figure of Donald McGowan was emerging. Duncan watched as the old soldier ambled down the track towards him. He’d be only a few feet away in just a moment.
“Donald,” he hissed, causing the old man to startle and gaze around him for the source of the voice, “Donald, in the bush, slide down the bank.”
Donald looked around him in surprise and then down towards the holly bush, from which came the mysterious voice.
“Where …” he began.
“The bush, the holly bush, man. Stop standin’ there and slide down the bank,” Duncan hissed.
Realization now seemed to dawn and glancing from side to side, Donald slid down the bank
and into the hollow of the holly bush. Duncan embraced his old friend warmly and Donald looked him up and down in disbelief, shaking his head and smiling broadly.
“I dinna ken what to think, Duncan. We did nae know if ye were dead or alive. Arabel told me what happened with the young peasant lad, but to see ye in the flesh, tis’ a Christmas miracle and be sure,” Donald said, still shaking his head in disbelief at Duncan standing before him.
“There is nae much time, Donald, but ye must tell Arabel and Alistair to be ready at the feast tomorrow. I am goin’ to challenge Fraser’s claim as Laird. Will I have yer support too? I just overheard the Lewis’ speakin’ and they say they have nay love for Fraser Campbell,” Duncan said.
“Nay one has love for Fraser Campbell, Duncan. They are just scared of him, but even his closest soldiers dae nae dae his bidding. Ye are alive thanks to that and I know that if ye challenge him ye will find many rushin’ to yer side as allies,” Donald said.
Then he did a most unexpected thing. The old soldier drew his sword from its hilt, and he knelt before the young man who would be Laird to pledge his allegiance unto death. Duncan thanked him and was almost moved to tears by the man’s loyalty.
“Thank ye, Donald. It has nae been easy to return here and find such a cruel fate havin’ taken away so much of what is rightfully mine. But knowin’ I have the loyalty of men such as ye makes everythin’ that much better. I will nae let ye down. But now I must go and tomorrow I shall return durin’ the feast. Can ye make sure the way is open for me?” Duncan said, pulling his cloak tightly around him as he made ready to depart.
“Aye, lad. It shall be done, and I will let Arabel know of yer plans. She loves ye so very much and it is with her at yer side that ye belong as Laird,” Donald said, and the two embraced.
The shadows were growing longer now, the winter’s afternoon setting in. The bright skies of the morning had been replaced by clouds rolling off the mountains and, as Duncan watched his old friend scramble up the bank, the first flecks of snow began to fall from the sky above.
“I shall see ye at the feast tomorrow,” Duncan whispered up as Donald emerged onto the path.
“Good luck to ye, lad. We shall be waitin’ for ye,” Donald replied, without glancing back and Duncan watched as he ambled off up the track towards the gatehouse.
Now he wasted no time, and with a final glance back to the castle which was rightfully his home he began the climb back up into the forest. It was almost dark by the time he reached the cottage built into the cave. Christina had a merry fire burning and the smell of stewing meat filled the little place, ready for them to sit down to a hearty supper. Lena had baked bread and there was even a little ale, so that the celebration felt as much like Christmas as that which was to come the next day.
“Ye have the support of many friends in the forest,” Bryce said, laying aside his bowl and spoon. “There was nae a soul who said that they wouldnae rally to yer banner, and that they had never supported Fraser Campbell as Laird in all these years.”
“Then there is hope for tomorrow. If the elders of the clan accept my challenge, then I shall be Laird. Where Fraser likes it or nae,” Duncan said, settling himself back before the fire.
“I will fight alongside ye,” Hamish said, drawing out the little dagger hanging at his belt.
Duncan laughed and nodded to him.
“Ye will make a fine soldier for this clan one day, lad. But I hope we shall nae have to fight. If Fraser Campbell sees sense, he will realize that he cannae bully and intimidate his way to power. He kens I am the rightful Laird and so dae all the others. That has got to be worth somethin’ and tomorrow I intend to claim back what is rightfully mine,” Duncan said, the warm glow of the fire reflecting from his face, which was set in a defiant gaze.
They sat up long into the night, sharing stories of Christmases gone by and looking to the future. But it was the next day that mattered most and with the arrival of Christmas Eve would come the decisive outcome of the conflict. Who would be Laird when Christmas day dawned and where would the loyalties of the clan then lie?
Chapter 9
The Feast Begins
Arabel had not slept well ever since Duncan’s disappearance, and the night before Christmas Eve even more badly, given the news she had received after dinner. It was just after Fraser Campbell had retired, leaving the clansmen gathered in the Great Hall, that Donald McGowan had approached her seat.
She was sitting opposite Alistair, the two having hardly eaten a morsel of food or touched their drinks. They were both anxious for Duncan and wondered just what had become of him out in the forest. Had the peasant boy’s family helped him? Had he gone off deeper into the forest? Perhaps he really was fled into exile, terrified at the prospect of returning to his uncle’s wrath. Arabel feared she may never see him again, and it was with heavy eyes that she looked up at Donald as he came to stand before her.
“I have some news, lass,” he said, bending low and looking from side to side, “I have seen Duncan,” and he whispered the last part, as she sat bolt upright in her chair.
“What? Where?” she said as Alistair leaned forward.
“He was outside the castle earlier today, hiding in the bough of the holly bush in which the three of ye used to play. He intends to challenge Fraser at the feast tomorrow night, and he asked me to inform ye. There is a lot of support for him amongst the clansmen and the local people, if he challenges the Laird then he shall win,” Donald said, glancing around him again at the merrymaking and revelry of the clan.
“But what if Fraser decides to fight him? He could be killed,” Arabel whispered.
“There would be nay dissuading him from his decision, lass. He was adamant. He told me he’d overheard some others speaking of the support they would give him if he challenges Fraser. He will enter during the feast tomorrow night and we must be ready. I will keep the gates open so that he can enter the castle and ye must be ready to stand by him. Ye too, Alistair, if tis’ yer will to renounce the Lairdship in the future,” Donald said, turning to Alistair who smiled.
“I have nay wish for that millstone about my neck, Donald,” he replied, “but Arabel is right. Tis’ too dangerous for Duncan to challenge my father openly like that. He has become so volatile that it would nae surprise me if he drew his sword and challenged him to a duel there and then.”
“And if he does, there would be twenty men to leap to his defense, I amongst them,” Donald replied. “Ye shall see, Duncan will nae let us down.”
And with that he left the room as Arabel and Alistair stared at one another in disbelief.
“He is a braver man than I,” Alistair said as he and Arabel left the guests to their revelry. “If he challenges my father, it could go terribly wrong. He should have waited until he could gather some strength behind him.”
But Arabel turned and shook her head.
“Ye know, perhaps I dae understand why he is doin’ this. He has waited long enough, hasn’t he? All those years a prisoner and to return to find himself a prisoner once again. Duncan needs to take action, and he needs to dae it now. It makes sense to think of it like that,” Arabel said.
“Aye, perhaps, but tis’ a terrible risk,” Alistair replied.
“Then we must make sure he succeeds,” she said and the two bid one another good night.
Despite her understanding of why Duncan was acting in the way he was, she still felt anxious. As she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up around the chill of the night, her mind was filled with thoughts of Duncan’s entrance at the feast. Would he stride forward and demand an end to Fraser’s Lairdship? Would he challenge him to fight? All she longed for was to have Duncan at her side and for the two to declare their love for one another. She wanted nothing else but him, and with such thoughts foremost in her mind she passed a restless night.
***
Christmas Eve dawned, the sun rising pale and milky, a heavy gray sky hanging above the castle. There was much preparation to be made a
nd when Arabel rose, she found that the servants were already hard at work. A great yule log had been cut and hauled in from the forest. It was lying in the courtyard, waiting to be stripped and prepared for the burning ceremony that night. The cellars had been opened and barrels of ale and whisky brought up from Fraser Campbell’s stores, and through the castle there wafted the smells of cooking, as the kitchen prepared the feast.
But Arabel cared not for the preparations. She was worried about Duncan and his plan to confront Fraser that night. Would there be a fight? Would the rightful Laird find himself on the end of the pretender’s sword? She was terrified, and despite Alistair’s words of reassurance, she found herself unable to settle as the day wore on.
All the guests had now arrived and she would be seated in a place of honor that night. The high table reserved for Fraser’s closest friends. She had confined herself to her chambers for much of the afternoon, the sounds of preparation going on below. As darkness began to fall there came a tapping at the door and Alistair peeped cautiously in, as she sat by the fire.
“Are ye alright, lass? Tis’ nearly time to get ready now. The pipes will begin to play soon, and we will be expected downstairs,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“I cannae help but worry, Alistair. How can Duncan hope to face Fraser tonight? Tis’ madness to burst in like this,” she said.
“Ye said it yerself, lass. He has waited long enough for this moment and if he waits longer who knows when he will find himself with opportunity again. He is doin’ the far more honorable thing than my father did to him. This way he will challenge him before the whole clan, a noble and lawful thing. I for one intend to stand by him,” Alistair replied, warming his hands by the fire.
“Ye mean to go against yer father? Ye dinna have to, Alistair. Ye have already agreed to give up yer claim to our marriage, ye dinna have to renounce yer blood,” Arabel said, rising from her place.
The Castle Courtyard on a Snowy Christmas Eve Page 6