“Never mind,” Caleb said through gritted teeth, waving a dismissing hand through the air. “And take back yer money – all of ye.” Caleb scooped the coins off the table and handed them to Hawke and Ethan. “I’ll do it just to prove to all of ye that I can – no’ because there is somethin’ for me to gain. I’ll do it just out of the sheer satisfaction to show ye three that when I say I’m goin’ to do somethin’, by God I will. Now, move,” grunted Caleb, pushing Logan’s arm and the coveted sword away from him. He stormed out the door and headed across camp. Bridget and her father, Brigham, were talking to old Ian MacKeefe, Hawke’s grandfather. He and Caleb’s father shared the same name since Ian was commonly heard in the Highlands. Old Ian was one chieftain of the clan while his son, Storm, filled the position of the other. Usually one of them stayed in the Highlands while the other ruled over Hermitage Castle in the Lowlands. Storm and his wife, Wren, were at the castle now.
Caleb headed over to the fire, straight for the group of people.
“Dinna forget to do somethin’ about that weasel,” Logan called out from the hut.
“Guid mornin’,” said Caleb, smiling at Bridget as he walked up to join them. Usually, Caleb got along great with the girl ever since he first met her months ago. He’d taken a liking to her and she seemed interested in him as well. But not today. Right now, she wasn’t smiling at him, but frowning instead. Bridget didn’t respond to his greeting and neither did her father, Brigham. “Is somethin’ wrong?” asked Caleb, looking over to the clan’s chieftain.
Ian, or The MacKeefe, as he was often called, cleared his throat. “Caleb, it seems yer pet has been causin’ some trouble around here lately.”
“Aye, I ken,” he answered. “But Slink is only havin’ fun. He doesna mean to bother anyone. He just likes to . . . inspect things. Closely. He’s curious, that’s all.”
“Well, yer weasel stole my best quill,” grumbled Brigham. “It was given to me by the king himself.”
“That’s right,” retorted Bridget. “I placed the Highland Chronicles and the quill down on this rock and when I turned around, yer weasel was runnin’ away with the quill in its mouth. If that animal ruins it, we’ll never find another quill of that quality.”
“Slink isna a weasel,” Caleb said with a frustrated sigh. “He’s a pine marten.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s a thief,” snapped Brigham. “I’ve even seen the thing take food right out of a bairn’s hand while we’ve been here.”
“I’m sorry about all this, really I am,” apologized Caleb. “I’ll find Slink anon, and return all the items he’s stolen. I promise.” Caleb turned to go, overhearing The MacKeefe talking to Bridget and her father. Old Ian held a missive in his hand.
“I’m honored that King Robert II would think highly enough of the MacKeefes to ask ye to add us to the chronicles,” said The MacKeefe. “And I’m also glad ye returned here after ye managed to escape the bandits on the road. Ye are lucky to be alive. But if ye’re headin’ back to Hermitage Castle, I canna let ye go unescorted. The roads are much too dangerous, especially since it is so close to the English border.”
“It’s of great importance that we get there,” said Bridget. “The king expects us to record the yearly competition between the Scottish lairds.”
“Aye, that’s right,” chuckled Ian. “The MacKeefe Clan is hostin’ the Leader of the Lairds Competition this year. I almost wish I could be there to watch my son, Storm, win again. He’s the reignin’ champion and has braggin’ rights ye ken. Ye’ve got that in yer chronicle book, right?” He spoke of the competition that was started by the MacKeefes years ago, all in fun, of course. It was similar to the Highland Feis with the caber toss, sword fight, and several other events. The only difference was that this was just for the lairds of the Highlands and Lowlands to compete. It was a prestigious competition and everyone looked forward to their clan’s leader winning.
“Well, why dinna ye come to Hermitage Castle with us?” asked Bridget. “After all, ye’re the chieftain of the clan.”
“Aye, but I’m too auld to compete, lass. I’ll stay here and watch over our camp and livestock. My son will bring home the prize for the clan again this year. I wonder what the prize will be?”
“I’m no’ certain, but the king will be sure to make it a prize worth winnin’,” said Brigham. “He wants me to record everythin’ that happens for him, right here in the Highland Chronicles.” He nodded to the book on the log.
“I’ll make sure a few of my men escort ye to Hermitage Castle,” offered Ian. “Once there, ye’ll be safe inside the castle walls. Plus, ye can talk more to my men on the way there and mayhap find somethin’ else to write about in yer book.”
Caleb’s ears perked up when he heard this. Mayhap this would be the opportunity he needed for the chronicler to mention him after all.
“Well, we wouldna want to impose upon ye,” said Bridget, sounding as if she didn’t want to be a bother.
“The MacKeefes are some of the fiercest warriors we’ve ever met, Bridget,” her father pointed out. “After all, we’ve got a book full of heroic deeds to prove it.” He bent over and picked up the Highland Chronicles from atop a rock and thumped his hand down atop it. “I would feel guid to ken that we have their protection.”
“But is it really necessary for us to take their best warriors away?” asked Bridget in almost a whisper, seeming nervous or perhaps upset, Caleb couldn’t tell which. He figured it was because she was still angry about his pine marten stealing their quill. “These men are busy. I’m sure we can hire some simple foot soldiers as our escorts instead.”
“I’ll do it,” offered Caleb, spinning on his heel and hightailing it back to the group.
“Ye?” Bridget’s eyes quickly scanned down Caleb’s body. She didn’t look pleased with the offer at all.
“Aye, me. Is there somethin’ wrong with that?” Caleb asked her.
“Nay,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I was just expectin’ someone more . . . I mean . . . different, that’s all.” Her eyes continued to scan up and down Caleb’s body.
The MacKeefe laughed out loud. “I assure ye, even though Caleb isna one of my biggest warriors, he is just as guid with a sword and twice as fast on his feet. He will accompany ye to Hermitage Castle. And I’ll send along one more man with ye if it’ll make ye feel any safer. However, I canna spare more than two right now since it’s time to shear the sheep.”
“Caleb, did ye find that doitit pet of yers yet? I want my braies back,” complained Logan, walking up with his wolf trotting along at his side.
“Logan, ye’ll go with Caleb to escort the chronicler and his daughter back to Hermitage Castle,” commanded The MacKeefe.
“What?” Logan’s head snapped up. “Me?” His hand thumped against his chest. “Why?” Logan scowled. Caleb realized it was because he thought the girl was naught but a nuisance. “I’m tendin’ to the livestock this month, and I’m the best at shearin’ the sheep,” Logan reminded him. “No one can match me with a blade in my hand or a whittling knife in my grasp. I really need to stay here.”
Old Ian did not agree. “Hawke and Ethan will fill in for the chores of both ye and Caleb while ye’re gone,” he assured him. “I think Bridget would feel safer with yer wolf along. So ye’ll go with Caleb and I’ll no’ hear another word about it.”
“Och,” snorted Logan running a hand through his hair. He let out a deep sigh and gazed out over the hills as he spoke. “When do we leave?”
“We need to be at Hermitage Castle in three days’ time,” Brigham told them.
“Then ye boys better leave anon,” remarked Ian.
“Three days?” complained Logan. “Even with our fastest horses, it’ll take a full two days to get there. But with them along, it’s goin’ to slow us down. We’ll be lucky to make it there before the competition starts.”
“Let me lead and we’ll get there in less than two,” said Caleb. “I ken a few shortcuts.”
/> “Ye’ll go slow enough that our guests are able to keep up,” Ian told him. “Remember, they are no’ used to ridin’ at breakneck speeds like ye two. Take yer time and travel safely. Stay overnight at the Horn and Hoof, and pay my respects to my da when ye get to Glasgow.”
“Ye mean Auld Callum?” asked Bridget. She knew the MacKeefe’s history since her father had been recording everything about the MacKeefes lately. “And the Horn and Hoof Tavern?”
“That’s right. Auld Callum and his Mountain Magic,” said Caleb.
“Get packed and leave within the hour,” Ian ordered.
“I’ve got my sword, my wolf, and my horse. That’s all I need,” said Logan with a chuckle. “I just hope Rhoswen will forgive me for leavin’ her behind when we’ve just recently gotten married.”
“Why no’ bring her along with us?” asked Bridget. “I wouldna mind havin’ another woman along on the journey.”
“Well, I dinna ken,” said Logan looking over at The MacKeefe. “Her sister might need her here since her bairn has started crawlin’ now.”
“Nonsense,” spat The MacKeefe. “She’s got other siblin’s to help her with little Lockie. No’ to mention, Clarista hasna let go of that boy since they got to camp,” he said, speaking of his wife. “Ye take that new wife of yers with ye to the Lowlands. She’s been through a lot lately, I hear, and needs a break.”
“All right. I’ll go tell Rhoswen to start packin’.” Logan hurried off with a smile on his face, whistling as he walked.
“Ugh,” grunted Caleb, not wanting another woman along on the journey. He had hoped to have time to talk to Bridget to convince her father to mention him in the chronicles. But now with Rhoswen along, he’d probably not be able to get a word in edgewise. Two women together meant there would be talking and laughing and gossiping the entire trip. His head already hurt just thinking about it.
“What’s the matter?” Bridget pulled him from his thoughts.
“What do ye mean?” he asked.
“Ye sound as if ye dinna want Rhoswen to join us on the journey.”
Caleb could have kicked himself for letting the “ugh” slip out. The last thing he wanted was to anger Bridget any more than she already was. Now she was going to think he was nothing but a selfish cur.
“Nay, that’s no’ what I meant,” said Caleb, wondering how he was going to explain this without telling her that he was hoping to have time with her alone.
“Then what did ye mean?” she challenged him.
Thankfully, the pine marten ran by with something in its mouth that looked a lot like Logan’s braies. Two giggling clanswomen ran after it. This gave Caleb the excuse to leave without answering Bridget directly.
“Excuse me, but I’ve got a pine marten to catch, and Logan’s braies to return to him,” he said, taking off at a run. He could already see that this was going to be a very interesting, not to mention, long journey.
Chapter 2
“Now where in the name of the devil did I put my cloak?” asked Bridget’s father as they added a few things to the travel bags attached to their horses for the journey to Hermitage Castle in the Lowlands. They were lucky to have escaped the bandits on the road but, in doing so, most of their belongings had been stolen. If they had been in a wagon instead of on their own horses, they never would have been able to outride the bandits. Only by throwing down some of their belongings to distract them, were they able to escape the men.
“Da, it’s right here,” said Bridget with a sigh, picking up the cloak and handing it to her father. “This is gettin’ bad,” she said, her eyes scanning the surroundings. “I dinna ken how much longer we’re goin’ to be able to hide the fact that ye can barely see.”
“Nay, we’re fine, Daughter.” Brigham reached out and took the cloak, patting her on the shoulder. “No one will ever have to ken.” He tried to don the cloak but couldn’t find the top. Bridget reached out and helped him, shaking it out and wrapping it around his shoulders. Even her father’s actions lately had become concerning to her. He also seemed to be forgetting simple things that would never have slipped his mind before. Something with his health had changed drastically in just the past few weeks.
“We are no’ fine, and ye ken it,” she told him. “We’ve managed to keep yer secret for now, but that Caleb MacKeefe is far too nosey and is always hangin’ around me and askin’ a lot of questions. I dinna want him comin’ with us to Hermitage Castle. It’s only goin’ to mean trouble.”
“Now, now, Bridget, ye’re overreactin’,” said Brigham, straightening out his cloak. “We could use the protection. So havin’ the MacKeefes along as escorts as we travel to the Lowlands is a guid thing. Besides, I like havin’ Caleb around. He’s funny. And that weasel of his is meddlesome but ye have to admit it’s cute.” He chuckled to himself as he tied closed his cloak at the neck. “Slink certainly does get into a lot of trouble.”
“It’s no’ goin’ to be funny when Caleb discovers what we’ve been tryin’ to hide and tells everyone – includin’ King Robert,” she said in a half-whisper. “And as for Caleb’s doitit weasel, did ye already forget it stole my best quill?”
“Ah, there ye are,” came Caleb’s voice from behind her as he walked into the stables. She cringed, wondering what the man wanted now.
“Are we ready to go?” she asked him, seeing him with a travel bag slung over one shoulder. His pine marten was cradled in the crook of his arm. “It’s been over an hour now and we should be on the road already.”
“Calm down, lass. We’re goin’ as soon as I return the last thing that Slink stole,” Caleb reported. “It took me a while to find everythin’. Guid thing I ken all of Slink’s favorite hidin’ spots,” he said with a chuckle. Reaching down into the bag he pulled out the feathered quill, holding it proudly in the air.
“My quill!” she cried, rushing over and snatching it from his hand. “The feathers are dirty and wet and the tip looks to be broken!” She scowled at him.
“Yer quill?” Caleb asked in question. “I thought it belonged to yer faither.”
“It does,” she said, feeling her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She had to be more careful with what she said. If not, he was going to discover that her father couldn’t see well enough close up to write the chronicles anymore. It had been her doing it in secret for quite some time now. No one, especially not the king, would ever accept the fact that a girl was acting as the Royal Chronicler. It was not allowed. And if they were caught, they were sure to be punished. “Here’s yer quill, Faither.” She turned and held it out to him. Her father walked over smiling, not even looking at the quill, probably because he couldn’t see it. He tripped on a bucket someone had left there, but righted himself quickly. Bridget closed her eyes and released a breath.
“Aye, everythin’ of mine I share with my daughter,” said the man. “So my quill is her quill, so to speak.”
“Ah, I see,” said Caleb, even though he didn’t sound like he understood it. “Well, here comes Logan and Rhoswen now, so we should get goin’. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”
When Caleb turned to greet his friends, Bridget slipped the quill into the bag she carried on a long strap over her shoulder. In the bag were the ink and the book of the Highland Chronicles. She always kept this with her and was only thankful that the bandits hadn’t gotten hold of it. If so, her father would need to report it to the king and there was no telling if he’d be punished for losing it.
“Faither, quickly, get on the horse,” she whispered, guiding him to it and putting his hands on the saddle. Her father’s sight had been getting worse these past few months. He could still see far, but when it came to seeing things near him, he was worthless. Even since the last time they’d visited the MacKeefe camp a few months ago, her father had regressed. “Once ye’re atop the steed, stay close to me and yer horse will follow.”
“I’ll be fine once we’re on the open road,” he whispered back, climbing up into the saddle.
; “Logan, let’s go,” shouted Caleb, mounting his horse and heading over to the stable door. Something made him glance back over his shoulder. When he did, he saw Bridget whispering to her father. Something was odd here, but he didn’t know what. He’d have to keep a close eye on those two.
“Och, Caleb, it seems we’re the ones waitin’ for ye, so stop yer bellowin’,” grumbled Logan. He and his new wife, Rhoswen, were atop their horses with their travel bags already packed for the journey. “Come on, Jack,” shouted Logan, and his wolf darted out of the shadows at a run. “Ye are no’ bringin’ that troublesome weasel with ye, are ye, Caleb?”
“My pine marten,” he said, stressing the words, “is goin’ on the trip whether ye like it or no’.” He opened the pouch he held and let Slink crawl out and settle atop his lap. “And for yer information, I found and returned everythin’ he stole.”
“Aye, and thank you,” said Rhoswen, in her English accent. “But it seems my husband, is still not wearing the braies you returned to him.” She winked at Logan and giggled.
“Only because they now need mendin’, thanks to Slink.” Logan turned his horse and rode off in a hurry with his wolf following right behind.
“Have a safe trip,” called out Clarista, the chieftain’s wife, waving at them from over by the campfire. “I gave Rhoswen some extra food since I know how you and Slink like to eat.” Clarista was another Sassenach. And old Ian’s son, Storm had married an Englishwoman as well, so the clan was truly mixed.
“Thank ye, Clarista,” Caleb called out, running a hand over his pine marten as it settled itself atop his lap. Usually Slink slept during the day and rode in the travel bag, being very calm and content atop the horse as Caleb was there, too.
“We’re ready,” announced Bridget, riding out of the stables slowly with her father on his horse right next to her.
“Well, if we’re goin’ to get there in two days’ time, ye’re goin’ to have to move a little faster than that,” said Caleb.
Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4 Page 2