The Laird's Choice

by Amanda Scott

  Andrena was moving to do so when the door opened and Mag strode in.

  “Prithee, leave us now, Tibby,” he said, holding the door wide.

  “Aye, sir,” Tibby said, fleeing without so much as a glance at her mistress.

  Reaching up to take out the hairpins herself, Andrena said as he shut the door, “I think you frightened her. Is aught amiss?”

  “I sent her away so I can get my bath before we eat supper. I’m sorry if I gave her a fright. Young Pluff has got himself in trouble again,” he added with a grimace. “You recall, do you not, that he was not at hand either to bid us farewell on our journey or greet us on our return.”

  “I do now that you speak of it,” she said. “What did he do?”

  “Apparently, he slipped away to visit a friend.”

  Pins out, she began to undo her plaits. “What friend?”

  “Her name is Annabel. If I heard aright, she is MacNur’s daughter.”

  “But MacNur’s Annabel lives at Arrochar with her mother, Mae,” Andrena said, frowning. “The tale I’ve heard is that, when MacNur decided to leave ten years ago to join us here at Tùr Meiloach, Mae refused to come with him.”

  “Aye, so the lad told us. But he did so only because when he finally admitted he’d gone to Arrochar, Andrew demanded to know why the devil he had.”

  Having stripped off his clothing, Mag got into the tub.

  Briefly and warmly distracted by the fascinating play of his muscles as he did, Andrena gathered her wits. “I thought you and Father must be plotting tactics.”

  “So we were, aye,” he said, picking up the soap and lathering himself. “But MacNur brought Pluff up because he thought the lad had lied to avoid punishment. He went straight to MacNur on his return and told him that Pharlain is arming his men as if he’s preparing for war. Pluff told MacNur that he feared they meant to attack here,” he added as he soaped his hair. “He also told MacNur that Pharlain means to leave Arrochar by week’s end. When MacNur told Andrew that the lad could not possibly know such things, your father demanded that Pluff explain himself or take a leathering right then and there from him.”

  “So Pluff admitted that he went to Arrochar to meet Annabel?” Andrena, said, finding it as hard to believe as MacNur had. “How could he even know her? Annabel cannot be more than thirteen, if that, and she has never lived here.”

  “Pluff said they are the same age. He said that MacNur had been irritable about something and that things the man said had helped the lad figure out that MacNur still had family at Arrochar. Pluff asked around, and when one of the men told him that MacNur’s wee daughter lived there with her mam, he got it into his head that what he calls MacNur’s being peevish or crabbit must be due to missing them. So Pluff decided to find out if they also missed MacNur. If they did, Pluff said, he meant to help them escape from Arrochar to Tùr Meiloach.”

  “Mercy,” Andrena said. “He is lucky Parlan did not catch him. Faith, but we know that Parlan must be readying his men to leave for Perth.”

  “Aye, so Andrew and I will talk more after supper. This information coupled with what my father said about the number of men Parlan is raising, plus his order to ignore Jamie’s restrictions, should provide at least some of the evidence his grace seeks to convict the plotters. But Pluff’s testimony would mean nowt to the lords of Parliament. To be useful to Jamie, we need to find adult witnesses and also think of a way to stop or hinder Parlan’s army.”

  “We must also get word to the King, and quickly,” she said.

  “Aye, sure,” Mag said, still soaping himself. “We’ll send running gillies to Craggan and Inch Galbraith requesting support for whatever we do, too. I’ll wager that Colquhoun will be as adamant as my father is, though, about having a plan that is likely to stop or impede such an army. Andrew is scheming, but it will likely be morning before we can send the lads off. We’ll need a plan first.”

  “You will,” she agreed. “Murie told me just today that a good story can divert men from feuding and fratching. But you will need more than that. We have plenty of weapons and our own men to fight, but Parlan has many more men than we do.”

  “He does, aye,” he agreed, sluicing water over himself with the pitcher. “And he knows how many Andrew has here, as well.” Finished with the pitcher, he set it down and stood up. “Hand me a towel, will you, lass?”

  She did so, and as she handed it to him, he pulled her into a wet embrace. Planting a firm kiss on her cheek and another on her lips, he murmured, “You may have given me a wee notion with that tale about Muriella. As I recall it, your father is as skilled as she is when it comes to weaving stories.”

  Andrena could not deny that. But when she asked him to explain, he said, “Not now, lass. I must think more. Mayhap we’ll talk later.”

  “You can be sure we will, sir,” she said.

  “We have to disrupt Parlan’s part of the plot,” Andrew said when he and Mag met in his chamber after supper and took their usual places. “If we do nobbut delay the man, it will help his grace.” He reached for the whisky jug.

  “An attack on Arrochar might delay Pharlain but would gain us only defeat,” Mag pointed out. “Forbye, we cannot be sure we’ll gain enough support to delay him before he departs. I’d liefer we choose our own time and place for any fight.”

  “I, too,” Andrew agreed, eyeing him curiously. “What would you suggest?”

  “That we divert Pharlain’s attention to another threat, to gain time. Or we bring him to us in some way that will delay him and give us the advantage.”

  “Bringing him to us is easy,” Andrew said grimly. “The man would leap at any chance to seize Tùr Meiloach. But he’s already gathered and armed his men, so that, too, would gain us nobbut defeat.”

  “Not if we spin him a tale that makes him think we’re vulnerable but only if he acts on a certain day, mayhap even at a certain time. We’d need enough truth in the tale to persuade him that his chance to seize these lands has come at last.”

  “D’ye have such a tale in mind?”

  “Not yet,” Mag admitted. “Andrena just put the notion in my head. She said Muriella tried to get a story out of her about our journey. When Andrena said there was nowt to tell, Murie said it depended on who did the telling. She insisted that even a tedious tale told by a good storyteller, with mayhap some exaggeration and such, could become powerful enough to divert men from their feuds and fratching. It occurred to me then that you’ve spent two decades spinning myths that have kept Parlan and his louts at a distance. Between us, we should be able to devise one that draws him to us whilst keeping him from guessing that we want him to come.”

  “But who would tell him such a tale?”

  “Someone from Tùr Meiloach does report to him already,” Mag said. “You ken fine that your myths travel everywhere, and we’d often hear talk at Arrochar of goings-on here, celebrations and such. I doubt he kens aught of true import, though, because the men hunting me did not know of your bridge across the south river.”

  Frowning, Andrew said, “What else does the villain know?”

  “He hears when people leave or return and how many warriors you have. Such information is erratic, though, because Andrena told me that men leaving Arrochar have come here through the pass above Glen Luss, and I’d heard nowt of that before. In troth, I thought Pluff might be Pharlain’s source when he admitted secretly visiting Arrochar. But if he was just seeking MacNur’s daughter—”

  “He might have told her things and the lass passed them on.”

  “Pluff cannot be Pharlain’s primary source, because Pharlain has been gleaning such information since before I was captured. Forbye, I talked with MacNur after supper, and he assured me that this was Pluff’s first disappearance from Tùr Meiloach that was longer than an hour or two.”

  “Aye, but Pluff may have known the lass for a long time. Or he may have been meeting someone else, nearer home, all along.”

  “In any event,” Mag said patiently, “I
think that you and I should devise a tale, most of which we can tell anyone. It should perhaps suggest an open door of sorts, a way into Tùr Meiloach that Pharlain will believe might stand unguarded for just a few hours or a day. If I describe what I have in mind, I’ll wager that you can make it more intriguing to him, mayhap even impossible for him to resist.”

  “Aye, sure, I can do that,” Andrew said with a grin. “Then, after he steps through our doorway, we shut the door, aye?”

  “Aye, right behind him,” Mag agreed.

  “ ’Tis a good notion, that. But we’ll need more men than I have here to make it work. So it be a good thing that your da and Colquhoun will both support us.”

  Mag nodded. He just wished that he could be as certain as Andrew and Dree were that Galbraith would keep his word to them.

  Andrena, having spent her evening after supper with her sisters, had learned that although they’d accomplished much in preparation for Lady Aubrey’s birthday celebration, much remained to do. Nevertheless, she had bidden them goodnight at the usual time and then waited impatiently for her husband in their chamber. When more than an hour had passed, she went to bed, leaving candles alight for him.

  The room was dark when movement on the bed woke her. She muttered irritably, turned over to see only his shape, and said, “What did you decide?”

  “That I have a powerful need for you,” he murmured, kissing and caressing her in such a tantalizing way that other needs stirred, shifting the first one into last place. When they lay back at last, replete, she asked him again.

  “ ’Tis late, mo chridhe, and we’re both tired. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  So, she slept, but when she awoke, sunlight streamed in through the open window and Mag was gone. Dressing without bothering to shout for Tibby, she went in search of him only to learn that he’d left the tower with a number of men, their destination and time of return unknown.

  Frustrated but resigned to such masculine tactics, she went for her usual walk with Old Bess, taking the dirk and her eating knife. Finding a place where she’d be unobserved, she tried out some of the tactics Mag had described to her.

  She soon realized that no matter how she adjusted the dirk, getting it out of its sheath in anything like a hurry was awkward. Her eating knife, being smaller, was manageable. But the leather-thong loop that kept it in its sheath impeded her efforts.

  At last, by adjusting the sheath so she could carry it near her left hipbone with the hilt tilted slightly downward to the right, in much the way that Mag wore his dirk, she could slip the loop off with a finger and draw the knife with her right hand. She could conceal the much smaller knife under her shawl or the jack she wore with her breeks.

  Returning to the tower, she spent rest of the day tending to a list of tasks that Lina had set for the upcoming birthday festivities. When she learned that Andrew had sent lads out to invite cottars and other folks to attend, she began to fear that her father and Mag had decided they could do naught but warn the King of his danger.

  “If Mag has gone to Glasgow or anywhere else without telling me,” she muttered as she dressed for supper, “he will soon learn his error.”

  But Mag returned with the other men shortly after gillies had begun serving the evening meal. Stepping to the dais at the women’s end and crossing behind them to his seat, he paused to give Andrena’s shoulder a warm squeeze.

  Smiling up at him but determined to know what was happening, she waited only until she’d finished eating before excusing herself. Moving to Mag’s side, she said quietly, “I would speak with you, sir, when you will.”

  Nodding, he said, “I’m at your service now, lass, if your lord father will permit me to abandon him.”

  Andrew nodded and said with a knowing smile, “Aye, sure. Ye can come to me later, lad. I want to hear all ye’ve accomplished today.”

  As they left the dais, Andrena murmured, “First, I would like you to tell me where you have been all day, sir.”

  Mag put an arm around her and drew her close in a brief hug, then urged her up the stairs before him with a smack to her backside just hard enough to make her wonder if he’d meant it as a warning.

  Glancing back, she saw the twinkle in his eyes. Nevertheless, the brief time of wondering had reminded her that she still could tell only a few things about his moods by his voice or demeanor, let alone in any other way.

  When they reached their bedchamber, he shut the door and said, “Andrew and I talked long last night and made some plans, sweetheart. I took some men out today and told them what we hope will come to pass.”

  “What do you hope?” she asked.

  “To delay Pharlain if not to defeat him,” he said. “Sithee, since he will lead all of the Loch Lomond lairds who support him, their very number must constitute a large part of the conspirators’ army. If we can keep them from joining the rest on time, we’ll deal their plans a sharp, perhaps even fatal, blow.”

  She nodded. “Meantime, his grace is gathering men to his own banner.”

  “Most certainly, aye,” he said. “We sent men with messages to Colquhoun and to my father. And a report will go to his grace, as well, of course.”

  “You sent a running gillie with a message for the King?”

  “Nay, nay, I expect that Ian Colquhoun will go if his father agrees. I sent one lad to Colquhoun with both of those requests,” he added. “Your father’s running gillies are fast. But they cannot run to Paisley—let alone to Stirling or Perth—as fast as a galley can take Ian to Dunglass. From there he can ride after Jamie, if necessary. I’ll stay here to aid your father and his men.”

  “When is all this to take place?”

  “We’ll see,” he said. “We cannot know exactly what will happen or when, only that it must happen before, but near, the day Pharlain plans to leave for Perth. We want to prevent his departure long enough for Jamie’s supporters to gather round him in Perth. But we must also consider your mam’s celebration. We’ll want to ensure her guests’ safety whilst they’re here—also that of you and your sisters.”

  “What danger could there be for us in the tower?” she asked. “Its walls are impregnable. Forbye, the old tales about Tùr Meiloach still deter sensible people from trespassing onto our lands without Father’s permission.”

  “Nevertheless, when the time comes, we’ll want to know that everyone who belongs in this tower is safe,” he said firmly. “That means being sure that they will all stay inside when we put our plan, whatever it may be, into action.”

  Such emphasis and the stern look he gave her made his meaning clear if their plan was not. But she got no more out of him about any plan. Although she tried over the next few days, more often than not, he was outside the barmkin wall. So she saw little of him and received little information when she did see him.

  Every man in the place seemed focused on what might lie ahead, although no one would speak to her of what he knew. She understood their silence, for men rarely revealed their plans to others, warriors least of all. Understanding them did little to reconcile her to her ignorance of what they were planning, though.

  She carried her eating knife now, even when she wore her breeks. And Mag twice found time to show her how she might effectively use it to defend herself.

  To her relief, he had not forbidden her early-morning rambles with Bess. So she decided that, despite his earlier comments to the contrary, he did not object to them. However, she had a strong feeling that he would object if she tried to follow him or any of the other men when they left the tower.

  If he had heard from Colquhoun or Galbraith, she knew naught of that either. But she believed he would tell her if he did hear from either laird.

  On the eve of Lady Aubrey’s birthday, the Laird of Colquhoun arrived with his lady wife and a tail of six men in time for supper. Ian was not with them. When Andrena inquired about him, Colquhoun said with his pleasant smile that they would all know of his son’s return when they saw him.

  Andrew and Mag drew
Colquhoun away after that. And Andrena renewed her acquaintance with Lady Colquhoun, who was also a close friend of Lady Aubrey’s.

  The additional company provided a pleasant overture for the next day’s festivities. Everyone enjoyed excellent food and wine, amusing conversation on the dais, and musicians who played loudly enough to be heard without disturbing their conversation. Later, Muriella entertained everyone with two new tales she had learned, as well as humorous anecdotes from her childhood.

  Andrena decided that Murie had chosen her anecdotes with an eye to making their mother and their guests laugh—and to embarrass her older sisters.

  By the time everyone retired to bed, the wine Andrena had drunk had relaxed her so that she was thinking only of how pleasant an evening it had been when Mag suggested that she go on up and get ready for bed.

  “Aye, sir,” she said with a smile, a nod, and warm anticipation of coupling with him. Half an hour later, she wondered sleepily what was keeping him.

  She fell asleep before he joined her, slept soundly through the night, and awoke the next morning to find Tibby bustling about the sun-filled room.

  Mag was not there, making her wonder if he had come to bed at all.

  “Have you seen Magnus Mòr?” she asked the maidservant.

  “Aye, sure, m’lady,” Tibby said. “He were up afore dawn tae break his fast wi’ some o’ the other men. Then they all went out a-hunting. The laird said it had been a gey long time since he’d had guests for the hunt. So, although it do be her ladyship’s birthday, he said he didna mean tae waste such a fine opportunity.”

  Grimacing at the thought of a hunting party disturbing the forest creatures, Andrena asked no more questions. She assured herself instead that the men would not stay away long on such an important day.

  The men were not hunting.

  Mag and Andrew led a large company of men-at-arms into the hills northeast of the tower. They were making their way through dense woodland, toward what Andrew described as an erstwhile pass in the granite heights above them.