by Sondra Grey
As we rode up to the gatehouse of Castle Claire, I knew I had to say something to him. But when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t quite make myself speak. I kept trying to imagine what my life might be like once Brandon Sorely left it, and the thought made me want to weep.
The Cheiftain of Castle Claire was a man named Ramsay Macleod but it was Ramsay’s wife Shona who greeted us and bid us welcome. Ramsay was hunting, apparently, and wouldn’t be back until nightfall. They’d just had players come through town, apparently, and weren’t interested in spending the money to host another set so soon.
This was bad news for Ned, who confirmed that the players had, indeed headed North and were no doubt taking the same route that we intended to take.
“Will your husband house us for the evening,” Brandon had cut in. “In exchange for some song, and we’ll be on our way at dawn.”
That had appealed to the Lady Macleod and so we stayed that evening, and played. As the crowd was not one looking for dancing, we performed ballads, which was a pleasant change. But did nothing to help the melancholy I felt myself sinking into.
After our performance had finished, Brandon disappeared, as was his wont. The five of us sat in the back of the hall, Robin and Ned teaching two of the Macleod players how to play an English tune they’d learned last year.
“Are you all right?” Babette asked me, concerned over my silence. I nodded, but I’d never felt anything less than all right. I felt desperate, I knew – I knew – he was going to leave. Whatever had brought him to the troupe, he was going to leave. And we needed to be through, he and I. I saw him as he strode back into the hall. His eyes scoured around the room, coming to rest on mine a moment before he looked away. Then he strode off towards a group of Macleods.
I knew the look on his face. It was guilt.
I waited until Glenna had gone off to bed, until most of the Macleod clansmen had left the room. Then I approached him. Brandon was in deep conversation with an older Macleod clansman, and I could hear a bit of their conversation as I approached
“…not a bit of him. And he couldn’t have left too soon if you ask me. Nothing but trouble. I don’t care what Tormod thinks Ramsay owes him – it’s not worth the status we enjoy up here. S’not worth angering the Macleods at Dunvegan. And to hear fair Una tell her tale…”
He stopped talking as I drew close and Brandon looked up, his eyes flashing with irritation. “A moment Meg,” he snapped. “I’ll find you in a moment.”
I pulled back, feeling like a chastened child but Brandon had turned his attention elsewhere and so I went to wander the room, pretending to admire the tapestries and declining an offer from a Macleod to narrate the history of their clan.
“Meg,” said Brandon, his voice low. For a moment I thought he was going to apologize for snapping, but no he looked at me, all guilt and impatience. I took a deep breath.
“I’d been thinking,” I said.
Brandon looked wary and it broke my heart. I realized that he had, indeed, been trying to pull away from me ever since we’d left Tham’s village.
“I don’t think this should continue, you and I.”
He looked so relieved I almost cried right then and there, and was proud that I didn’t. Proud that I held onto my tears.
“You’re not going to be able to commit to me, and what happens if this goes on longer…” I trailed off, knowing I didn’t have much else to say.
He looked at me for a moment, his pause so pregnant that I’d plenty of times to imagine all the things he might say: Of course I’m able to commit to you, in fact, I want to marry you! Don’t be silly. I’m just distracted. I love you. I love you! Oh please, tell me you love me!
But Brandon began nodding, slowly. “I think you’re right,” he said, voice low. “I don’t think this should continue. It will only get worse for both of us.”
But why will it only get worse! I wanted to shout. Instead I tilted my head. “Good night then,” I said to him.
“Good night,” he agreed, his gaze already straying back to the gentleman with whom he’d been conversing earlier. I turned and left his company, proud that my steps were steady, proud that they carried me all the way out of the dining hall and into the outer bailey before the tears fell.
Chapter 24
A ngus Dubh wasn’t at Castle Claire. Oh, he had been, just like he’d been at Ardvreck before they’d arrived there. But he hadn’t been at Claire for weeks. Apparently, he’d offended one of the Macleod clanswomen, forced himself on her and Ramsay had diplomatically sent him and his company from Castle Clair, suggesting they call on the Mackenzies at Merland.
But Brandon knew that the troupe wouldn’t be riding North, not without another group of players already playing the great houses. They’d go south, back towards their regular route, where there was more reliable money to be had. South. Where Brandon couldn’t and wouldn’t go.
He told Ned that he needed to visit family in the North. That he had a grandmother and an aunt who lived in Unapool. He told Ned that he’d meet back up with them on the road back through Grant land. He’d been given a few months to find and deliver Angus Dubh. He was running out of time.
Ned was loathe to part with him but understood. And Brandon could tell, from the look in Ned’s eyes, that the old man didn’t expect to see him again. It was just as well.
Brandon found his rest and rose before the sun, saddled his horse, and rode off.
Part 2
Chapter 1
“W hat’s eating you tonight?” asked Glenna, coming to the table I’d sat in and dropping down across from me. “The road getting to be too much for you?”
“I’m fine,” I told her, taking another bite of my roast chicken and trying to pretend it tasted good. Glenna reached over and took a piece. She’d already eaten her dinner but was still hungry, apparently.
“Don’t tell me you’re still moping over the fiddle player?” said Glenna meanly, sucking the grease from the chicken off her fingers. “Honestly, I could have told you how that would have ended.”
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands. Why did everyone feel the need to tell me I told you so? Had I cried in public? Had I missed any shows?
“If you don’t feel like playing nice,” I said to Glenna. “How about you leave me be?”
“Ooo, someone’s testy. Are you in your flux, Meg? Is that it?”
I felt sick to my stomach. “Glenna,” I said, calmly. “If you take one more piece of my dinner, I’m going to reach across the table and throttle you. Understand?”
Glenna stuck her nose in the air and stood. “If you’re going to be terrible, Meg, I’ll go give my attention to Babette.”
I glared at her back as she strode off and glared at Thamas, who looked ready to come and join me.
He’d found us two days ago. Jenny had given birth and he’d had as much of it as he could take. He told her he was off to make money and had travelled north for a while before realizing that we’d gone south. Bless Thamas, he’d managed to find us. Perhaps that meant Brandon would too.
I knew it was foolish to hope that Brandon would return. I knew, when Ned explained where Brandon had gone, that he wasn’t coming back. But part of me still hoped I was wrong.
Part of me needed to be wrong. Because Glenna was close when she asked me if I was nearing my flux. In fact, I was two weeks past when it should have come. And each day that passed and I didn’t bleed was a day more certain that I was carrying Brandon Sorely’s child.
I took another bite of my chicken and tried to shove back the panic that threatened to rise up and overwhelm me. I kept hearing Babette’s warning in my head, It’s hard enough being on your own without having a wee one to take care of.
I shook my head. I was going to have to find a way. Because Brandon wasn’t coming back.
I put another piece of chicken in my mouth. I didn’t want to panic until it was time to. Women lost babies all the time. Glenna told me about three that she’d lost before she
even knew she was pregnant. I didn’t need to start panicking yet. I didn’t need to tell Ned.
I looked over towards where Ned and Babette sat, enjoying their dinners. And was surprised when a tall, well dressed young man approached them and began speaking. He kept gesturing and Ned was smiling and nodding with delight. When the man left Ned looked around, spotted me, and then gestured me over.
Rising, I took my plate of chicken with me.
“That was a young man named Ellar Cameron. He was in the village tonight and heard us play, and is inviting us back to play Castle Tor tomorrow evening.” Ned was beaming and I suppose this was good news – we’d been worried about playing the Great castles and now The Cameron was inviting us to play for him. I nodded, trying to show some enthusiasm. In reality, all I felt was tired and heartbroken.
Glenna, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more excited. “Just look at them,” she said, staring from off the stage towards where the Camerom and his sons sat eating their dinner. They’d asked us to play instrumentals through dinner and then have music to dance afterwards. We were eating as well; the serving women had come up to serve us on the stage.
We’d played many castles before where we were invited to dine with the clan. Here, we were performers, which meant we would sit where we were. To be honest, I’d seen a few grand castles, but Tor rivaled them. It was huge and sprawling. Ned had told me what to expect as we rode up – the battle cry of Clan Cameron was ‘sons of the hounds, come forth and get flesh.’
It was clear that the Camerons were a warring highland clan. Their members were spare and strong. Their men built for battle, and clearly practiced with swords. Lochiel Cameron’s sons most of all.
“Do you know who they remind me of?” said Glenna licking her lips. “They remind me of the fiddler a bit. In their built, see those shoulders? All that dark hair. He was more handsome, I think, but they’re quite pretty too.”
She winked at me. “There are two of them. We don’t have to fight. Which one do you want?”
I couldn’t think about Brandon and, once Glenna noted the similarities between the man I’d loved and the men sitting at the Great Table, I couldn’t look help but see it and couldn’t look at them again.
When dinner was over, we picked up the instruments to play. It was a good thing Thamas was back. The pipes were the one instrument that Robin struggled to play, and the Camerons did not seem like a clan given to lute music. Robin took up the fiddle and when we started playing again, Glenna sang.
Dinner amongst Clan Cameron had been peaceful enough, but once the drink started flowing and the music became boisterous, so did the clan. Aggressively so. Even Glenna had trouble with them. One of them whirled her off stage mid song and gave her a smacking kiss right then and there. Bless Glenna for going along with it, for there would have been hell to pay, if the look in Robin’s eye was any indication. I cowered behind Tham as Glenna was passed Cameron to Cameron for a dance.
I didn’t’ see what happened. One minute they were dancing and the next they were brawling. And not just a small brawl. There must have been five Camerons, one of the chief’s sons in the mix, swinging at one another. I gasped when a man was knocked unconscious and dragged off the floor.
Even Babette looked a bit unnerved.
Ned managed to control the chaos by controlling the pace of the songs. Ballads might have gotten us booed off the stage, but our jigs might have caused mayhem. When we finished playing, they roared for more, and we played another hour past our agreed upon set before they let us off of the stage. Even then, we didn’t dare go far.
We perched ourselves on the end of a vacant table and stayed together. Robin was at Glenna’s side and even Glenna had ceased trying to catch the eye of one of The Cameron’s sons. I could feel the glances of hungry clansmen on me and had to force myself into conversation with Ned to keep my mind off the eyes burning into my back.
“A bit intimidating,” I said to Ned, keeping my voice low. Ned smiled at me wanly. “I’d heard rumours,” he said. “But I’ve never been invited to play Tor. If I’d known… I can’t quite put my finger on it, but they all seem a bit…”
“Blood thirsty,” said Babette. “What did you expect. You know their history.”
“I don’t,” I said, softly. None of us wanted to be overheard.
“The story of the Camerons,” said a man passing by and beaming down. He’d clearly had a few cups to drink for he didn’t wait for us to invite him, he crammed himself between me and Ned, forcing me into Robin who looked back and got up to make room.
“We’re a braw and bloody bunch, lady!”
“That so,” I said weakly.
“Aye,” said the Cameron. He was young and dark, but not one of the sons who’d sat up with Lochiel. “Not a clan in the highlands wishes to face us in battle. King himself is afraid o’ the Camerons. Fact, to make peace with us he signed over a big chunk of land, taking it from those coward Mackenzies.”
“Oh,” I said, because I didn’t know what else you said to a drunk madman.
“Craig Mackenzie’s a woman. He’s no spine a-toll, which is why the King could take his land where he could never take ours. The Mackenzie is nothing compared to Lochiel Cameron. Why, Cameron had five sons in his prime.”
“Five sons,” said Glenna, leaning in, eyes widening.
“Oh yes, lassie” said the Cameron clansman. “Each brawer than the next.”
“Where are the other three?” she asked, eyes scanning the room, apparently forgetting her earlier fear in the face of the promise of more beautiful men.
“Two of ‘em are dead, killed by the third,” said the man, voice going dark. Good God! The Camerons were bloody enough to kill their own kind?
“Ah, don’t be looking at us like that, lassie,” said the man. “We’re not all bad. But there are always bad ones in the bunch. Black Brandon Cameron,” he said the name like he was telling a ghost tale, and I saw Robin’s head quirk. He approached and sat down on the other side of Ned. “I’ve heard of him,” said Robin.
“Wanted up and down the highlands. There’s many a Cameron would pay good money for him. Killed his brother Eudard and his brother Ewan too.”
“Why?”
“Who knows,” said the man, shrugging. “Jealousy? Power? Their heady mixes. And Black Brandon was Black as his name. Raped Sorcha Campbell and then released her from their camp, so that she could lead her father straight to Cameron territory. Killed his brother in the ensuing chaos. Then he disappeared. And Ewan Cameron, he knew where his brother was. He knew, and then he too disappeared. Lochiel mourned them both. And he’s disowned the bastard Brandon. So now he’s just the two. But no matter. It’s still better than that sack of dung Craig Mackenzie… gave up his land because the king sneezed at him.”
The man scoffed in disgust. “You be wise to watch yourself tonight lassies,” he said, looking at me and at Glenna. “There’s man a man here would kill another to have a siren in their beds.” Winking he got up and strode off.
“Ned,” said Glenna, watching him go, her tone curious.
“What it is,” said Ned, cocking his head to the side.
“I’d like to leave here soon,” she said. She sounded casual, but I watched her cross her arms over her stomach and shudder.
It was too dark for us to leave Clan Cameron for the nearby village, so we stayed the night in their loft and left the next morning. We were all of us quiet for a time, nobody quite certain what to make of our time with the Camerons. They’d paid us handsomely, Lochiel paying more than he’d offered us, since we played longer than we’d agreed upon.
Ned was weighing the money thoughtfully as we hit the cross roads and headed east. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.
“What don’t you know?” Babette asked him.
“If I would do it again. This is more money than we made on the crossing to Harris, but I don’t know if I’d do it again.”
“Nothing happened,” I heard myself sa
y.
“Nothing happened, but I couldn’t guarantee that nothing was going to happen.”
“I slept with one eye open,” said Tham softly, riding up.
“Are you okay, Meg? You look a bit off,” said Robin. I realized, as he asked, that I had my hand over my stomach. I let it fall. In fact, I was thinking about Brandon again. I’d been trying to understand how Glenna had been reminded of Brandon when he looked at the Cameron boys. I’d seen it too, and it bothered me that I saw someone I’d so admired in two men who’d made me very uncomfortable.
“I’m just thinking,” I said.
Babette reached over and patted my knee but she looked worried. “Are you still heart sore over the fiddler?”
“He did say he’d return,” said Ned.
“He’s not returning Ned,” said Babette. “And the sooner Meg realizes that the better. I told you…”
“I don’t think she needs to hear how you told her,” said Ned softly to his wife. I was not going to cry. I wasn’t. But it was hard not to think about how I might have felt much differently in Castle Tor if Brandon had been there.
We rode a few hours more and were resting the horses at a stream not far from Loch Ula when we heard hoof beats thundering down the road.
We’d met brigands on the road a time or two, and I watched Ned toss the money to Robin, who disappeared behind the wagon. Thamas pulled his horse close to the wagon, sliding a hand into his boot and pulling out a dirk. Glenna and I ducked into the wagon with Babette.
“Ho Ned!” The voice that cracked through the afternoon, penetrating even the wagon’s canvas, was familiar. Glenna grinned widely and threw herself out of the wagon. Babette glanced at me, worriedly, and followed her.