Full Mackintosh

by Deb Kemper

  The dark stone building cooled the heat of the warm day. Collin waited by the door for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. He took a moment to assess the room.

  Garth sat in the high seat hearing disputes. Minstrels broke a late fast at a table on the opposite side. Several young men mopped the stone floor, swept clean of last evening’s refuse. All appeared safe.

  He headed for the kitchen to find Amalie.

  He waited at the doorway, of the busiest place in the barmekin, scanning the room for reddish brown hair peeking from under a kertch. Amalie strode through the nearby larder’s entrance.

  “Milady?” Collin called out as he walked toward her.

  She looked up. “Ah, Jeremy. I want to speak with you a moment about lodging.”

  He nodded deference to her. “At yer service, ma’am.”

  “You’re rentin’ a room from my friend, Ceidra Turner?”

  “Aye, ma’am.” He maintained sobriety as he listened intently.

  “Please be kind to her. She’s a very gentle spirit and I’ve no desire to see her hurt.”

  “I’m most gentlemanly with her, ma’am. She’s an awful fine miss.” He clasped his hands behind his back.

  “She is, but she’s also vulnerable. Her husband was killed only a year ago. Do not take advantage of her innocence, sir. Are we clear?” Her eyebrows raised, she waited for his affirmation.

  “Aye, ma’am. I’ll protect and defend her honor unto death.”

  Amalie smiled at him, for the first time since meeting the Irishman. “Excellent, then. Thank you.” She turned away in dismissal.

  ****

  “Ye know she’s a Jew?”

  Garth whirled to face his friend. “What’d ye say?”

  Collin rolled his head to the side. His voice was quiet though they were obviously alone in the council chamber. “Yer wife’s a Jew.”

  “How do ye ken that, Collin?”

  “I know her family. Her pap’s the rabbi in Dublin. Her youngest brother, Asa, looks just like her. But did ye know she’s a Jew?”

  “Aye, shortly after she came to me. No one else does.” Garth was cautious. “If it offends ye or causes ye pain, ye’ll have to leave. I’ll not have her secret out. She’s my life—my heart.”

  Collin nodded sagely. “Well, as long as we’re sharin’ secrets…how could I know her pap and brothers, now I ask ye?”

  Garth’s eyes narrowed. “So, how come ye to know her family?”

  “Her pap married Kay, me mommer’s cousin. So, ye can take it like it lies, sir, or shall I tell ye more?” He teased.

  “Tell me more.” Himself began to relax.

  Collin paused for dramatic effect and met the laird’s eyes. “If she goes down, I’ll be wit’ her. I was raised circumcised as well. Adopted by a merchant and his wife when me own mam died bringin’ me into the world.”

  “Yer a Jew, Collin? Five years, fightin’ side by side and I didn’t know the poet warrior was…I’ll be damned.”

  “Ye might at tha’, but wha’?” Collin grinned.

  “Something my wife said when I was tryin’ to win her over, King David, the poet warrior.”

  “David’s me second name.” Jeremy Collin nodded sagely.

  “It wou’ be. Let’s grab a tankard and find my bride. I’ve had my ration of doing without her today.”

  “If it please, my laird, I must hie home meself, as the lovely Ceidra Turner is feedin’ me supper. Her little Seth’s a fine lad. I’m teachin’ him to whittle.”

  “What’s this, the bard’s settlin’ down?”

  “I’m gettin’ older, the nights colder. Aye, it’s a thought. And that lil lass is the prettiest thing. Don’t tell yer lady I said that. She’ll have what skin I got left between me legs tanned fer yer sporran.”

  ****

  Amalie tapped on her husband’s study door.

  He flung it open and smiled. “There ye are, my heart. I was about to come find ye. How’re our children farin’?”

  “Fine, sir.” She took her chair, watching her husband. He rarely had to summon her these days as they spent most every free moment together. “What’s wrong, Garth?”

  He kept to his feet for the moment, then decided to sit beside her. He leaned to place his hand over hers. “Amalie, do ye ken who Collin is?”

  A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Aye, do you?”

  “Ye kent all the while and didn’t tell me?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “I had no reason to think he knew me. He left Dublin when I was a girl. He’d come to visit occasionally, I heard, but rarely caught, even a glimpse of him. Why?” She smiled into her husband’s consternation.

  “He came to me with his knowledge of ye. It caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to think. Collin’s a hard man to read.” He glanced down at his pipe.

  “I don’t fear him, Garth. We spoke today about my concern for Ceidra. He’s a just man and your friend. I find him annoying, but trustworthy.”

  Garth chuckled and filled his long stemmed pipe. “Well, then, I suppose ye feel yer secret’s safe with ’im. I’m relieved to hear it. He’ll be handy to have here with England and the Stuarts poundin’ the war drums again.”

  Amalie rested her hand on his arm. “Will it affect us?”

  “In time, my heart. Hopefully we can keep it from our door but Scotland will again be the battlefield over an English crown.” He held her hand as they gazed into the evening fire. “We’ll enjoy these moments while we have ’em.” He glanced back at her and winked.

  Chapter 24

  “Next time ye decide to ride through the whole of the Chattan to check on yer alliances, let me know ahead o’ time. I’ll make meself scarce.” Collin complained.

  A half day’s ride from home, all six men were weary.

  Garth chuckled. “Why, Irish? Ye’re the one always volunteerin’ to go in my stead.”

  “Aye, but that has to do wi’ battle, not diplomacy, sir. I never been a diplomat. My way is to strike first while the enemy’s off guard and discuss the matter wi’ what’s left of ’im later.”

  “I’m tryin’ to avoid more conflict, not stir it up, my friend.”

  “Aye, I’m just not sure how much good I am at extending the olive branch.”

  “Well, ye’re quite handy to have in the background, as a threat if they refuse to comply.”

  Collin chuckled and patted the neck of his black stallion. “I’m all fer ridin’ on in. It’s gettin’ late but it’d be fine to be home. What say ye, laird?”

  “I’m with ye. We’ll stop for a bite of supper and still arrive before midnight. It’ll be good to see my wife.”

  “Aye, and mine. This is the longest we’ve been apart.”

  Garth laughed. “Ye only been married a month.”

  “Ah, but it seems I’ve known her a lifetime.” They followed the curve in the lane to a grassy knoll by a burn. “This looks as well as any. I need to work the kinks outta me joints.” Collin slid over the side of his saddle and bent double to stretch. “One of us is gettin’ old, Coot.” He dropped the reins. “Graze while ye have a moment.”

  The big black stallion made a few steps and dropped his muzzle into a lush stand of grass.

  Garth left his horse to roam. “I camped here with my brother and Da when we were young. Gordon, scout about and see that we’re not surprisin’ the natives. If ye run across anyone tell ’em the Laird o’ the Chattan desires an hour to rest his bones.”

  Gordon nodded. “Aye, sir.” He turned his horse to inspect the road ahead of them.

  No sooner was he was out of sight than an odd feeling overcame Garth. “Collin?” His voice fell flat.

  “Aye, I sense it too. Is this place bewitched?” The champion’s eyes scanned the area for anything out of place.

  “Nay, but I think we’re not alone. There’s no birdsong, no noise atall.” Garth’s gaze drifted up to the trees and back along the burn’s bank.

  An opulent green canopy shade
d them as they searched for the cause of their concern.

  Whewsht, thunk.

  Most of the men dropped to their knees looking for the origin of the arrow stuck into the trunk of the tree nearest Garth, who kept to his feet.

  Collin scrambled toward him, eyes peeled to the woods. “No sense tellin’ ye to hide behind me. Jest get on yer belly, man, and keep yer head down.”

  Garth studied the direction of the shot. He roared toward the area he guessed hid the archer. “Hullo, there! This is The Mackintosh ye’re shootin’ at and I don’t take it kindly.” A bevy of arrows flew from more than one source. He dropped onto his stomach and watched the treetops. “They’re bloody shootin’ at us from the trees, Collin, and I be buggered if I can tell man from limb.”

  “Are ye alright, sire?” Perry raised his head.

  “Aye.” Garth rolled to his back to see where the arrows lodged. Seven struck the tree he’d stood beside. “But if they shoot my horse, I’ll be pissed. Let’s ride on.” His shrill whistle summoned his mount. The roan lifted his head, shook, and continued to chew a mouthful of grass a few feet away. “Get over here, Jack.” The stallion ambled toward his master. “What’s wrong with ye…, gone daft?”

  He rose and straddled the broad back of his ride, continuing to study the area. His men scrambled to get on their horses. Once astride, they stood guard over Collin while he watched for movement.

  Collin mumbled to himself. “This place is faerie spooked, Tir na nÓg.” He tightened the belly strap of his saddle and mounted Coot.

  “Ayah!” A fierce scream from the bend in the road startled them. They each held swords or guns by the time Gordon, crouched flat in his saddle, tore back toward them yelling. “Get outta here, sire! Run!”

  They turned back the way they’d come and rode hard to put several miles between themselves and the extraordinary spot by the frigid crystal burn. The men bunched together and held their ground when they stopped by a copse.

  Listening intently, Collin glanced around. “Anyone chasin’ us?”

  “No, praise the good God o’ heaven.” Gordon replied first, still shaken from his experience.

  “Don’t hear horses, but will they come at us from the trees?” Perry scratched his head, hesitant to dismount.

  “They’re probably not as fast as old Coot here.” Collin patted the neck of the stallion. “Well, shall we stop fer a bite before we find another way home, me laird?”

  “Dry camp, Collin. We may be surprised again since the demons are above us.”

  “Like fallen angels, tha’.” Collin slid off the side of his mount.

  ****

  Garth climbed the stairs; fatigue settled into his bones. He rolled his shoulders and reminded himself how sweet it would be, in a few seconds, to kiss his bride. He quietly opened the door to their bedroom and slipped inside. He felt someone else’s presence immediately.

  “Who’s there?” He murmured and sensed a wisp of fear when his eyes, having adjusted to the dimness, saw a dark-haired woman standing over his son’s cradle.

  Amalie woke immediately, sat up, and snapped. “Get away from him!” Her feet slapped the stone floor and her hands reached inside the cradle bundling the toddler. She retreated to the dressing room and slammed the door.

  “What are ye doing in my chamber and who are ye?” Garth demanded. Cold dread pounded his belly.

  The stranger slowly lifted her face.

  Garth fumbled for a match to light the lamp beside the door. He turned the wick to brighten the dim room. He studied the woman in the light. “What are ye doing here?”

  She smiled serenely and dipped her head to one side, but didn’t answer.

  “I asked ye a question. Why are ye in my chamber?” He started across the room towards her.

  No answer. She deftly slid around him, reaching for the door.

  He caught her arm tightly in his hand. She stopped, wincing in pain.

  His tone threatened. “What are ye don’ in the laird’s chamber?”

  She spoke slowly, whispering his name as though it felt precious on her tongue. “Come to see ye, Garth.”

  He flinched and shuttered. “I’m available in the great hall of a day, when home. If ye have needs to bring before me, do it then. Never set foot in the castle again. Do ye hear me?”

  She nodded and peeked back at him. “Aye, laird.” Her blue eyes appeared flat, dead.

  “Say yer name, woman!” He wore his best frightful look.

  She tittered, covering her mouth with her free hand.

  He loosed her arm, opened the door, following her out and down the staircase. He held the front door and watched her pass through, without looking back.

  He climbed the stairs again, two at a time, and entered the chamber door, proceeding to the dressing room. “Amalie, open the door, my sweet.”

  She turned the latch. “She was gonna kill Ewan! She had his blanket in her hand about to smother him! Who is she, Garth?”

  Her husband wrapped her securely in his arms, their son between them. Amalie quaked beneath his warmth. “She’s Quentin’s sister, Kieran.”

  ****

  “Collin, I need two guards in the castle of a night. There’s a regular intruder. Amalie’s seen her occasionally over the past two years when I’m away. We met face to face in my chamber last night.” Garth rubbed his forehead trying to clear the fog from his brain.

  The light was dim in his study. Two lamps and a fire barely lit the cloudy sunrise. Gloom and dark stone absorbed the light.

  “Ye say ‘her’? Old love or somethin’ else?” The champion’s eyes glimmered; a grin flicked the corners of his mouth.

  “Quentin’s sister, Kieran. Ye might check his cottage and see if she’s there. The visits to my chamber began before he left. He ne’er mentioned she’d come back.” He brushed his hand over his mouth. “She’s—eerie’s the only word that describes ’er. She had Ewan’s blanket in her hand and Amalie thought she was abou’ to suffocate him. I dunno. I want ’er stopped.”

  “What’s yer connection to her?” Collin pressed as he leaned on the door frame.

  “We’re cousins.”

  “And…?” He wildly gestured one hand, eyeing his friend.

  Garth grinned. “We were children once, Irish.”

  “So, she’d have reasons to feel…that way abou’ ye?”

  “I don’t fathom it.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember the last time I saw ’er, maybe ten…twelve summers ago. What’s she want here now?” He leaned back and pondered the ceiling.

  “Maybe she misses her brother and decided ye’d do.”

  “She scared the wits outta both of us…hovering over Ewan…all wraithlike. Amalie couldn’t sleep without him in her arms. We won’ live like that. Find ’er and let me know what ye think. Get guards stationed inside. Let’s have ’em roun’ the clock. No need to worry my wife.”

  “Aye, I’ll choose six men and put ’em on shifts. There’s another thing ye need to consider.” He produced two arrows from the sheath of his sword, strapped across his back. “The arrows shot at us last even are Welsh.” He handed them over.

  Garth studied the shafts. “I see that. What on earth are they doing up here and why?” He brushed his hand over his mouth and chin. “The best archers in the world don’t touch a hair on our heads.” He met Jeremy Collin’s eyes. “A warnin’?”

  “I hear they’re scoutin’ ahead of the English infantry. We were given reprieve and duly warned the English have landed in yer Chattan, milord.” Collin turned and left Garth with a plateful of worry.

  ****

  “Do you want to tell me why Quentin’s sister is comin’ into our bed chamber?” Amalie picked at an oatcake, nibbling the edges.

  “I dunno, my sweet. Collin will try to find her, see where she’s stayin’. Did Quentin say anything to ye about her bein’ here before he left?”

  “Not a word. But I’d seen her in your room before Ewan was born. She’d just be standin’ there gazin
’ at your pillow.” She sat back and sipped her peppermint tea.

  He shook his head. “I don’t ken why she’s here and where she’s been hidin’ all this time.”

  “Tell me about her.” The frown, Amalie wore, deepened. She brushed her hand over her hair, weary from the fright of Kieran’s appearance disrupting the night.

  “We all grew up here together. Kieran’s the oldest of four children, Quentin the youngest. When she was about fifteen summers, the family was on their way home from Inverness, in a carriage, when they were set upon by brigands. Their father was gutted, their mother assaulted, raped, and murdered. Kieran managed to get Quentin out and hidden in the woods. She went back for Dillon, who was a year or so older than Quentin. A ruffian grabbed her, Dillon jumped on the man’s back, and another peeled the boy off and snapped his neck. Geoffrey, her brother a year younger than Kieran, ran to her rescue, sword in hand. He was wounded and, I believe, left fer dead.” Garth stopped to sip his cooling tea.

  “How were they saved?” Amalie probed, as she poured another cup of peppermint tea. Nausea washed over her.

  “Da sent out a search party when they didn’t return in a timely manner. We found Kieran and Geoffrey badly wounded. Quentin, bless his heart, was standin’ guard over ’em, with his da’s dirk. He was barely big enough to hold it upright. Anyway, she never recovered.” He buttered his fourth oatcake and took a hearty bite. “Ye’ve not eaten, are ye well?”

  She nodded, looking away. “Just tired.”

  “So, Kieran’s lived with Geoffrey in Inverness all these years, occasionally comin’ down to the Chattan to see Quentin. Sometimes I’d see her when she came, mostly not. But it’s not like him to never mention she was here.” Garth pondered his cousin’s problem for a moment. “I’ll send a dispatch to Geoffrey and see if he realizes she’s here alone.”

  “So Kieran never got over the violence done to her?”

  “Nay. I don’t ken why, after all this time. She’s still…daft, she is.”

  Amalie turned to face him, a smile teasing the puffy flesh around her eyes. “Daft? She’s brutalized by men at a tender age and you think she’s daft?” She shook her head slowly and dropped her gaze.