Highland Chieftain

by Hannah Howell

  “I ken it. I will be verra careful and cautious,” he promised. “I dinnae wish to slow the healing in any way.”

  She nodded. “Good. That is good. Now, I need to ken what happened to ye. I mean, I ken ye were beaten and tossed aside, near drowned, but naught much else. Why were ye here? Why did they want to kill ye?”

  “Weel, pour me some cider, if ye would be so kind, and I will tell ye what I can recall. I fear some of it may nay be as clear as ye, or I, would like for I was knocked in the head a lot. Aye, and nearly drowning didnae help. Thank ye,” he said as he accepted a tankard of cider and had a drink.

  Taking a drink gave him some time to order his thoughts. Callum was not sure he should mention the boy. She may have saved his life but he knew nothing about her. He could not be sure he could trust her with such knowledge. It could also bring a lot of trouble to her door.

  “There were five of them,” he said. “They caught up with me in the clearing down at the base of the trail. I tried to fight them off, even made some progress, but there was a mon I didnae see who swatted me from behind. Once down, weel, it wasnae pretty. They finally broke my leg and tossed me into the river to drown. I dinnae ken what was worse, their laughter or how they grabbed my wounded leg to toss me into the water.” Callum shook his head. “I lost consciousness for a wee while but woke in time to claw my way to the surface. They were gone so I made my way to shore where ye found me.”

  “So, they didnae wait to make certain ye were dead?” she asked softly.

  “Nay. None too clever of them, was it? I believe they assumed they had succeeded.”

  “But what did they want? Your money? Your horse?”

  Callum sighed, knowing he was going to have to tell her one of the things he had thought to keep a secret. “Ye could say they wanted my horse and what it was carrying. A boy. A wee lad I was helping.”

  Her eyes wide, Bethoc said, “Cathan.”

  “How did ye ken that?” he asked, afraid he had just made a terrible mistake.

  Bethoc was a little surprised by how his voice had gone hard and cold, but decided to ignore it. “Cathan, who is about four, with big brown eyes?”

  “Aye, how do ye ken who he is?”

  “Because my father has him. Nay!” She grabbed him by the arm when he tried to get to his feet. “He willnae be hurt, nay badly,” she added softly, and winced at the look he gave her. “My father takes lads and uses them to care for his crops and animals. He has been doing it for years. With Cathan there are now seven. He must have taken the boy from the men though I cannae see how. Or why.”

  “He just takes them?”

  “I dinnae ken how he obtains them,” she replied, frustration tainting her words. “The boys are all too young when they arrive for them to ken either. At least, none has ever said anything about how they came to be there, only that my father had taken them. I only just fully realized it all, ne’er e’en asked how they got there for fear of my father’s anger. I have never given it a thought, e’en though I called them all Brother. It shames me to think of how witless I was.”

  “Ye would have been naught but a child yourself,” Callum said quietly.

  “In the beginning, but nay always. Yet I still said naught.” She sighed and shook her head. “When I was older I should have questioned.”

  “And what would ye have accomplished?”

  She frowned at him. “Weel, I would have kenned the truth.” And been heartily beaten for it but she decided that was not something to tell this man.

  “But what would ye have done with it? Sent the lads home? They say they dinnae e’en ken if they have one. Would ye go through the whole village asking people if they had lost a boy?”

  “He cannae just snatch up a bairn as he pleases and put them to work for him. ’Tis nay right.”

  Callum smiled faintly, thinking her quite striking in her outrage. “I ken it and he will, or should be, punished for what he has done.”

  “I dinnae see how,” she said. “If they are naught but boys tossed on the streets, who will care? Aye, he took them but all would say he gave them a home and work. Under his harsh fist. Another thing I did naught about.”

  Guilt, Callum thought as he fought the urge to stroke her hair. He recognized guilt. He had suffered it often enough. If only for Cathan’s sake, he needed to give her some confidence and strength to keep on doing exactly what she had been doing. She had cared for those boys and, he had no doubt, shielded them from her father. He needed to revive that strength.

  “Your father beats ye, aye, lass?” he asked quietly. “Ye have the bruises and swelling that comes from some hard slapping. Does it to the boys, too, aye?”

  “Aye.” Bethoc tried to show the humiliation she felt over confessing that.

  He took a deep breath to still his anger and then took a risk, reaching forward to take her hands in his. “Bethoc, look at me,” he said quietly, and waited until she did. “Ye are a wee lass. I suspicion ye have lived under the mon’s fists all your life and learned as a child that the best way was the quiet way. Dinnae say anything that might make him angry. Dinnae do anything that might stir his temper. Aye?”

  Bethoc did not want to admit it. Yet, as she stared into his green eyes, she saw understanding. Glancing down at their joined hands, she finally nodded.

  “’Tis nay an excuse though,” she muttered.

  “Och, ’tis and the best of ones. Children learn the lesson quickly and weel. They learn to be quiet in speech and movement, to do what is ordered quickly, and e’en when to hide. And they often learn to hide verra weel. Dinnae fault yourself for it.”

  She looked at him. “Ye seem to ken a lot about such things.”

  He smiled fleetingly. “A bit. I have seen a lot in my time. Now, how many lads has your father got?”

  “He is nay my father.” She was shocked that she had said that but then realized she had wanted it known.

  “Nay your father? Did he take ye as weel?”

  “Nay. He married my mother but he is nay my father. She was already carrying me when they wed. I have wondered on that, once I kenned he wasnae my father, for t’was a strange thing for him to do. But when my mother was dying, after she had Margaret, she told me the truth. She made me swear to watch over Margaret and never leave her. She was verra adamant about that.” She glanced toward where the little girl sat watching the horse.

  “And ye havenae, have ye?”

  “Nay, and when I thought on it, weel”—she shrugged—“it gave me some verra dark ideas as to why she would ask that.”

  He nodded, easily imagining the thoughts she had. “Do ye ken who your father is?”

  “What difference does it make? I will find him when ’tis time.”

  “I may ken who he is.”

  Bethoc sighed. “She met him at court. They were both rather young, but sixteen. She said he was all any lass could wish for.” She rolled her eyes. “But then he had to leave. Had to return home. He gave her a letter in which he put how to find him if she got with child but she lost it. Maman was a good woman, verra sweet and all, but I dinnae think she was particularly quick of wit. She remembered his name though. Brett Murray.” She saw the shock on his face and prayed it was because he knew the man and not because the man was notorious.

  “Jesu,” he breathed. “Are ye certain?”

  “Aye, she was verra certain too and I heard her correctly. Brett Murray. Ye would think him an angel come to earth if ye had heard her.” Bethoc softly cursed. “I fear he may have been her dream.”

  “Her dream?”

  “Exactly. When things are nay as ye wish them to be, ye dream of what ye wish ye could have. I think she dreamed of him.”

  “Weel, I dinnae ken what he was like when he was young but he is a knight now and newly wed.”

  “Ah, then mayhap I should leave him be.”

  “Nay. Murrays are good folk and want to ken about offspring, those begot within and without marriage.” He shook his head. “Ye have told me
now and I couldnae possibly keep it a secret from him.”

  “Ye ken him weel then.”

  “He is the brother of my foster father, Sir Payton Murray.” He looked toward where Margaret sat idly holding up flowers for Stormcloud to munch on. “He could be of great help.”

  “I am nay looking for his help.”

  The stiffness in her body matched her tone and he inwardly grimaced. He had been reluctant to tell her much; not at all sure he could trust her. What he had told her was more than enough but he was beginning to feel guilty about holding back. Her response to the idea of gaining any aid from her true father made him feel even more guilty.

  “Then dinnae ask,” he said, “although I suspicion he will offer when he kens what ye are dealing with.”

  “Oh. He wouldnae like my da, aye?”

  “Aye. No Murray would allow such treatment of women and children.”

  That sounded impossible to Bethoc but she said nothing. She had rather thought that what she lived with was not unusual, perhaps only a bit harsher than was normal and that harshness had grown as the drinking had gotten worse. The few men she had seen in her life were all much akin to her father: rough and loud with a quickly roused temper and a love of drink.

  “I must think on it all,” she said as Margaret hurried over to them. “It is nay just me that I must consider.”

  “Mon,” said Margaret, and toddled over to Callum who tensed as she drew near his wounded leg.

  “Nay, Margaret,” Bethoc said, and caught the child. She pulled her close and pointed at the bandages on Callum’s leg. “He has an ouch there. See?” The little girl nodded. “So if ye wish to say hello, go to the other side. Dinnae go near the ouch. Dinnae touch it. Do ye understand?”

  “Aye.” When Margaret wriggled free of Bethoc’s hold she walked a wide circle around Callum to come up on his wounded side. “Nay ouch.”

  Callum laughed. “Verra true. There is nay ouch there.” He was startled when she straddled his good leg and carefully sat down.

  Bethoc was shocked. Margaret had shown no hesitation in approaching the man. She had never shown such easiness around men.

  “What is it?” asked Callum when he saw the way Bethoc was staring at the child who was chattering incomprehensibly about the flower she held.

  “She has ne’er done such as this. ’Tis as if she has kenned ye forever.”

  He shrugged. “The bairns tend to like me.”

  “She has e’en started to be shy around Colin and Bean and they are but sixteen and fourteen. I am trying to make her see there is no need, nay with them.”

  “Because of your father?”

  “Aye.”

  “Children can often sense that sort of darkness in a mon.”

  “Colin and Bean would ne’er hurt her.”

  “Which is why she is only shy around them and nay afraid.” Callum sighed. “’Tis how I kenned I could trust Payton. Moira, a wee lass who was one of us, had no fear at all of the mon. None.”

  “And ye needed to ken that.”

  “Oh, aye, I needed that.” He laughed when Margaret held the flower against his nose and then he took a deep sniff. “Verra nice. Verra pretty.”

  Bethoc watched them for a little while, her sister babbling away, and Callum patiently responding. He had a way with children. There was a kindness in him she could not ignore but she knew she had to, should not place too much worth on it. She hated to end it but she had to get back home. Fortunately, Margaret only protested a little when she picked her up.

  “I am nay sure when I can return, which is why I brought ye so much food,” she said as she settled Margaret on her back. “My father noticed I was gone last time. He accused me of meeting with a mon.”

  “Weel, ye are,” Callum said, and returned her brief smile.

  “Nay as he thinks. I will return before ye have need of more food, even if it is only to dash in and leave some. Rest, Sir Callum.”

  “’Tis about all I do,” he grumbled.

  “Because ’tis the best medicine.”

  Then she was gone and Callum sighed as he leaned against the wall. It was going to be a very long few weeks. He worried about Cathan but knew he could do nothing about the boy, and all his instincts told him the boy was in good hands. Despite her father’s tendency to hit, the boy was still safer where he was than trapped in a cave with a crippled man.

  He glared down at his leg. Despite what Bethoc said, he was sure he would be useless for a few months at least. It was a wretched time for such an injury. Callum shut his eyes and sighed. He would have to put his faith in Bethoc. She was the only thing that kept him alive. Since he did not think that was much to count on, he also prayed his friends would find him soon. He was going to need their help.

  Chapter Four

  “Where is the food?” demanded her father as he marched into the house followed by the boys.

  “Near to ready,” said Bethoc as she turned to the meat on the spit.

  “Damn weel should be,” he grumbled as he moved to clean up, all the boys waiting patiently as he used the water first.

  A flash of anger went through her but she forced it down. He had no right to complain about the meals, the timing or the quality. That made no difference to him, however. Criticizing was what he did best.

  Bethoc looked at the boys. They all wore the tight, blank expressions she knew hid strong emotions. Cathan looked as if he fought tears but she saw no visible bruises on him and suspected the boy was just not accustomed to such constant tension and alarm. Her father needed to be more careful, however. He was losing his workforce but she doubted he took much notice.

  By the time everyone was seated, and after her father had taken his share first, they began to eat. Bethoc was wondering how he could not sense the anger the boys were holding in. She could and could barely eat because of it. Something had happened and she wished she had the freedom, and courage, to just demand to know what was wrong.

  Kerr Matheson was pushing too hard, she thought. The boys had never been so unified in their anger. She was going to need to have a talk with them, she decided. They were still too young, too weak, to go up against the man. Bethoc did not even want to think of what would be the result of such a confrontation. They were also too young to just leave and face the world.

  There was no talk over dinner and that was different. It could be because he had been in the fields with the boys but she suspected it was because the boys were intent on being silent. Her stomach was tied up in knots as she waited for something to happen, for the confrontation that was so obviously brewing. She prayed her father was not in the mood for a fight. He ended that hope with his next words.

  “Are ye going to sulk for the whole night?” Kerr asked, his attention still on his food.

  “Ye destroyed weeks of work,” Colin burst out.

  “Ye shouldnae have wasted precious time on planting berry bushes.”

  “Food is ne’er a waste of time.”

  She could not fully stop herself from jumping when her father lunged across the table and grabbed Colin by the front of his shirt. It was immediately followed by a hard slap to the boy’s face. Bethoc could see Colin clenching his fists repeatedly as their father threw himself back into his seat.

  “Ye best watch what ye say, boy. Show some respect.”

  “To what? Ye throwing a fit and ripping out weeks of work? For nay reason at all!”

  Bethoc whispered a protest but no one paid her any heed as her father rose from his seat, grabbed Colin, and dragged him across the table. The way the man set on the boy alarmed her. Colin got in a few good blows but one good punch to the head ended his fight. It did not stop her father, though. She raced to the man, grabbed him by the shoulders, and tried to pull him off Colin.

  “I told ye to ne’er dig there. Ye wouldnae listen. Ye ne’er listen. Dinnae dig there!”

  The boys ran to help her. Finally her father stood up. He shook himself, grabbed his cloak and hat, and walked out. Bethoc l
ooked down at Colin and had to choke back a sob. He was a mess. Her father had never beaten Colin like this before. Instructing the boys to move him onto Kerr’s bed, she rushed to get what she would need to treat his wounds.

  By the time she had bathed and bandaged his injuries, Colin was awake. “Why? Ye ken how he is. Why goad him? Why let him see how ye feel?”

  “We worked so hard on those bushes but ne’er once neglected our other work. I couldnae see the harm.” He winced as he tried to move. “The mon took one look and went mad. Ripped the whole lot up, screaming at us the whole time.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Nay, it doesnae, does it. He has ne’er cared what we plant, ne’er done more than look and grunt. But, though he never gave us any compliment, he didnae complain, either.” Colin struggled to get up and Bethoc helped him, the other boys staying close by him once he was on his feet.

  “Ye should go to bed, Colin,” she advised as, with Bean’s help, he started out the door.

  “Nay, he is hiding something and I mean to find out what.” There was a mutter of agreement from the other boys and Bethoc quickly picked up Margaret and followed them.

  It was a short walk to the field the boys worked but Colin was pale and sweating when they reached the place. It was a small field, not one they used for their crops that went to market, but mostly for a kitchen garden. She looked at the bushes tossed carelessly in a pile as if readied for burning. It was a waste and she could not understand Kerr Matheson’s actions. Then, as she thought back on what she had wondered about her mother and why the woman had never had any other children until Margaret, she felt a chill. Suddenly she was terrified of what they might find.

  Colin was settled against a tree as she sat beside him while the boys dug around. She felt her stomach tighten with every shovelful of dirt tossed to the side. Colin was right. Kerr was hiding something and they did have a right to know. She just feared it was going to be bad.

  “Bethoc, what do ye think we will find?” Colin asked.

  “I dinnae ken,” she replied.