Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance

by K. E. Saxon

  “Know you the meaning of the symbol—or its significance to our father?” Daniel asked.

  Bao studied a callous on the base of his right palm. Rubbing it with his thumb, he said, “It means ‘vengeance’. ‘Twas his motto—and the emblem was his device. The symbol is part of the written language of my mother’s people.” Looking up at Daniel, Bao continued bitterly, “Our father thought it humorous to use a symbol of his slave’s language as his crest. At first, he only had the emblem sewn on his tunics and his banner. Later, when the emblem was well known and much feared, he began to use it as a way of branding his slaves and his defeated enemies.”

  Daniel sat forward and ran his trembling fingers through his hair, pressing his palms against his head and closing his eyes tight. “I had not thought I could feel more hatred for my father than I already do. Were you his slave or his enemy?”

  Bao clenched his fist reflexively and then forced it to relax. “I was his slave—and, in the end, his enemy.”

  Daniel lifted his gaze. “He enslaved his own son. What kind of man does such a thing?”

  “A man with no heart—nor soul. I often thought he was a monster in human form. He never wavered in his methods, unless ‘twas to make them even more vile.” Bao absently scrubbed at his cheek. “The only legacy he left to me, that I do not despise, was his instruction in the ways of soldiering. For it provided me a trade with which to take care of Branwenn.”

  Daniel reached across the table and grasped his shoulder. “Aye, at least you had that, for which I am ever in your debt. You saved my life with those skills.”

  Bao grasped Daniel’s shoulder as well. “You owe me naught. We are brothers. Besides, if there is a debt to pay, ‘tis mine to you for taking over the care of my sister.”

  Daniel grinned. “You mean our sister? Do not think I have not noticed that you are loath to declare her as such to me. But, as to the other, there is naught you owe me on that score. For, ‘tis truth, I had to plead with her to allow me the honor of such a duty.”

  Tamping down on his feeling of loss, Bao smiled ruefully. “My thanks, brother, for keeping our sister here with you.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Callum returned the next day to try one last measure to stop a clan war; one that was in the making between the MacGregors and the Gordons over a tract of land that lay between the two holdings. ‘Twas good pasture land that had a small burn running through it and each clan insisted ‘twas part of their own holding. The Gordon’s property was newly acquired by marriage, and a royal survey of their land included the tract. The MacGregors had been on their holding for over 100 years and had an equally valid, though much older, royal survey showing it as part of their own holding. Neither clan was willing to give it up.

  “You know I would not ask this of you if ‘twere not urgently necessary,” Callum said to Laird Donald as they rushed toward the stables. “I fear my uncle and his men are bound to turn this into a bloody feud if we cannot come to some mutually agreeable solution.” In front of the horses’ lodging, Callum lifted the satchel containing a few personal belongings from the ground where he’d flung it only a half-hour before, and threw it over his shoulder. “I’ve done all I could in the past fortnight to settle this peaceably, but my efforts have been for naught.”

  “Ease yourself, lad, I’m sure we can bring this disagreement to a less violent end,” Laird Donald replied, clearly winded from their jog across the courtyard.

  “I was at my wit’s end three night’s past, until I suddenly thought of you and all you’ve accomplished as a mediator, first between Daniel and my grandparents, and then between the Donalds and the Macleans.” He opened the door to the stables and waited for the other man to walk inside before following. “I was alarmed when I arrived at your holding and found that you were not in residence, but at least the distance between your holding and this one is not too great.”

  Daniel and Bao sprinted to catch up to the two. “We travel with you!” Daniel called out, flinging the door to the stables wide.

  Callum halted and turned around. He dipped his head in a quick nod of agreement, grateful and a bit surprised by his cousins’ show of support. “My thanks.”

  “No thanks are needed. The Macleans will ally themselves with the MacGregors if a clan war does ensue but I want to be part of the mediation to ensure that all other means have been attempted first,” Daniel replied.

  “And I have many years of experience warring for the high king,” Bao told him. “You’ll need all the trained men you can gather if the mediation is not successful.”

  “Aye, you are right,” Callum replied. He had no time now to think on the amazing news of his blood connection to this foreigner he’d met so many years past. Nor of the lass Daniel had told Callum of a few minutes ago, whom Bao had fostered as a sister all these years, but whom Callum had yet to meet.

  “We’ll need our mounts readied forthwith,” Daniel said to one of the stablemen. Turning, he spoke to Laird Donald. “The journey, even at a fast clip, will take a day and a half. I’ve made arrangements for provisions; they should be here shortly.”

  Maryn charged up to Daniel’s side, followed by Jesslyn, Branwenn, and Lady Maclean. “Were you not even going to say a word to me before you left, husband? I was only just informed of this journey by the steward.” Fear and irritation warred for dominion inside her.

  Callum turned to Daniel and, enjoying the look of chagrin he saw on his cousin’s face, could not keep himself from goading him a bit. “You told the steward you were leaving before you told your own wife?”

  *

  Daniel shot Callum a venomous look before turning back to soothe the ruffled feathers of his disgruntled, pregnant lady. Taking her hand, he walked a few paces away from the others so that they might have a few words in privy. “I’m sorry, love. My only excuse is that I was seized by the urgency of the situation. You must believe, I would not have left here without telling you.”

  Maryn sighed and nodded her head. “Aye.”

  “While I am gone, I do not want you outside the keep without an escort.”

  “But, Da—”

  “Just give me your promise. I will sleep better knowing you are safe.”

  She sighed so hard she grunted. “I am safe.”

  He drilled her with a glare.

  “Oh, all right. I’ll not leave the keep without an escort, m’lord.”

  He grinned and tweaked her nose. “That’s a good lass.”

  She pouted a moment and then asked, “How long will you be gone? You will not truly make war with another clan, will you Daniel?”

  Wrapping his arms around his wife, he brought her close and held her. She immediately did the same. “I hope this will not take more than a few days, possibly a sennight. We are set on doing all that we can to prevent a war from breaking out between the two clans. But if war begins, the Macleans will be a part of it.”

  Maryn lifted her head to look into his eyes. “You cannot die,” she said, gripping the back of his tunic in her fists and giving it a slight tug. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you will return here alive. I cannot raise our son alone.” Rising up on tiptoes, she put her arms around his neck.

  The babe chose that moment to make its presence known and Daniel felt the flutter of movement against his own belly. He smiled into his wife’s upturned face and stroked her neck, enjoying the feel of the ultra fine hair at the base of her head. “I think our son agrees with his mother. What say you, my love?”

  Maryn remained mute, her aspect somber and intent.

  Daniel sighed loudly. “I promise to return to you and our babe. He shall be raised by both his mother and his father, I swear it.” And then he kissed her for many long minutes; deeply, passionately, and with all the love he had to give.

  *

  “That sister of yours is a nuisance, Bao,” Callum said an hour later as they traveled across the rugged terrain that would lead them to their destination.

  Bao grinned. “Ay
e, that she is.”

  “And what evil goblin did that to her hair? I do not believe I’ve ever seen such a sight in all my days.”

  “It does not look that bad; you embellish,” Daniel snapped. “She’s too young for you, so do not even think on it,” he said darkly.

  Callum laughed. “What are you going on about now, cousin? You cannot honestly think I’d be interested in her? She’s rude and obnoxious—sorry Bao, I mean no offense—and my tastes run more to the sweet and sultry.”

  “No offense taken,” Bao responded cheerfully.

  “I know that I only just met the lass, but you did seem to annoy her with your smooth words,” Laird Donald said. “I cannot recall a time I’ve ever seen a lady so impervious to your charms.”

  “‘Tis becoming quite common, unfortunately,” Callum replied. His companions burst out laughing at that honest response. Callum shrugged and joined in their mirth. It felt good to at last find a bit of humor in the sad state of his love life.

  *

  “And did you see how he bent low over my hand and kissed it, as if I were some noble queen or some such? I honestly thought I might lose my meal.” Branwenn was fighting the attraction she felt for Daniel’s gorgeous cousin. It made her feel as if she were not in control of her destiny, a feeling she did not like in the least.

  “‘Twas not good of you to wipe the back of your hand on your gown afterward. He was only being courteous, after all,” Jesslyn chided as she continued trimming her hair.

  “Aye, but ‘twas so false, he did not truly think me a ‘beauteous maid’; I could see he was appalled by my looks.”

  “Nay, not your looks—mayhap your hair, tho’. And you really should not have told him his lips were too wet for your liking before you wiped his kiss off your hand, either.”

  Branwenn giggled at the memory of his astonishment at her rudeness. “I do believe he’d never had a lass say that to him before.”

  Jesslyn smiled. “Nay, I wager you are right about that.”

  *

  Jesslyn bit her lip as she worked, worry for Bao invading her mind. For even though he’d dashed her hopes of marriage between them with his crudely worded dismissal of her, she was unable to dislike him completely. And tho’ her feelings fluctuated between disgust and fascination when she thought of his secret profession, now with this threat of war, she felt fear as well that his broken body would be brought back on a litter, just as Graeme’s had been.

  As if Branwenn had read her thoughts, she said, “Do you think Daniel and Bao will have to go into battle?”

  “I pray not. Laird Donald certainly seems to be good at working things out amongst people so that war does not result.”

  Branwenn turned on her stool. “Bao—”

  “Be still or you’ll end up with one less ear and a bad haircut,” Jesslyn chided and turned Branwenn back around.

  “Bao has had much experience in war; he’s fought for the king for many years now. He always returns. And Daniel seems just as fit as my brother. Besides, Bao will not let Daniel, or Callum, die, not now that they are reunited.”

  “I hope you are right,” Jesslyn replied.

  “I do too,” Branwenn said with a touch less confidence in her voice.

  *

  “Fia, I worry so about my husband,” Maryn said five days later as she rode toward the village willfully without escort, having determined almost immediately upon his over-zealous decree to defy it and prove a point. Absently patting her mare’s neck, she continued, “He’s sent no word and I hope that means the mediation is going well. Whatever will I do if war breaks out? He might be gone for several moons—mayhap even until after our babe arrives.”

  Fia nickered in response.

  “And I do not even want to ponder the other possibility. Tho’, God’s truth, the thought does flit through my mind of its own volition.”

  “Lady MacLaurin!”

  Startled, Maryn’s chin shot up. Seeing a familiar-looking man with long, dark brown hair and beard, she pulled on Fia’s reins.

  “I’ve urgent tidings that you must attend to forthwith!”

  “Are you not one of the traveling players we have been hosting at the keep these past days?”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  “What tidings do you bear, man?”

  The player took several deep breaths before continuing his tale. “Our company departed early this morn to travel to the next holding. When we were just to the loch, we came upon the remains of an ambush by freebooters. We found Laird Donald—”

  “What!”

  “—prone and bleeding at the water’s edge. The thieves had stolen his horse. He asked that you make haste and come for him.”

  “Aye, show me the way. Is he hurt badly?”

  “Nay, he’ll be able to ride back with you, but we must hurry. I should ride with you so that we can make better time, m’lady.”

  Maryn nodded distractedly, worry for her father paramount in her mind.

  The man mounted the mare behind her and took over the reins.

  Dimly, Maryn considered it odd that a traveling player would know how to ride horseback, but she was too distressed to put much thought into the puzzle. “Were my husband and his brother with Laird Donald?” she asked as they made quick time across the glen.

  “Nay, m’lady. He was alone.”

  They rode in silence for a time. Maryn chewed at her bottom lip. What if her father’s injuries were worse than the traveling player had believed? What if he perished before she could get to him? “How much further to where my father lay bleeding?” she asked at last.

  “Not much further, m’lady. Just on the other side of the loch.” After several more tense moments of travel, an ancient, crumbling stone structure came into view in the far distance. “He’s just over there,” he told her, pointing. “I moved him inside to rest there until I returned with you.”

  “I must get to him!” Maryn wrested the reins from the man and spurred Fia to a faster pace. “Papa! I’m here!” she yelled. Fear clutched her chest when she got no response. “Papa! Papa! Call out if you can hear me!” Turning to the traveling player, she yelled, “You said he was not hurt badly, why does he not answer?”

  “Mayhap he rests. He lost a lot of blood,” he said, his voice loud above the stomping of hooves.

  As they came close enough to the building for Maryn to get to it by foot, she pulled on Fia’s reins and slid off. Lifting her skirts, and with one hand on the underside of her belly, she ran, her feet furiously pounding the ground.

  Flying through the ancient doorway, she stopped short, her chest heaving as her blood pumped rapidly through her heart. As she struggled to gain her breath, she looked around in bewilderment, for her father was nowhere in sight. In fact, there was no trace that he had ever been there.

  “I see that realization is finally dawning, m’lady,” the player said from just behind her.

  Maryn whirled around and took a step back. “What mean you by this game? What have you done with my father?”

  “I assume your father is still at the MacGregor holding. But he was the best lure I could think of to get you here. His age made it easy for you to believe he could be overtaken so easily.”

  Maryn tried to dart around him, but he caught her easily with an arm under her breasts, and yanked on her hair, forcing her head back. She grimaced and he laughed.

  “Nay, you’ll not be leaving. Alive, that is.”

  She gasped, her eyes widening in terror. “Nay!” She wrenched and twisted, her scalp burning where hair was yanked from its roots, but to no avail.

  He cackled and dragged her, scratching and screaming, further into the chamber toward the place where a length of rope lay in full view. “Now, let us tie those wrists of yours.”

  “Nay!” Maryn kicked and clawed, bit and spat to free herself, but her strength was no match to his, and in only moments, he had her hands tied behind her back. “Why do you do this? Can you not see I am with child?”

&n
bsp; “Oh, I see. And it only makes this game that much more pleasurable.” The player cackled with evil glee and threw her to the ground. She landed on her backside with a “whoof”. As she looked up into her captor’s cold eyes with dread filling her heart, a glimmer of recognition passed through her. “Who are you? You are no traveling player, I trow.”

  He grinned. “You remember me not, Maryn Donald? It must be the beard and hair, and of course, my usual attire is much nicer.” There was a pause as he waited for her answer, then he said, “Still no recollection? Then I’ll give you a rhyme: Once my life was stable but now ‘tis not, so I’ve marshaled my wits to avenge your plot, and tho’ I grow hoarse—”

  “Clyde Ramsey!” she breathed, her eyes now feverishly traveling over his visage and frame. He’d lost quite a bit of weight since the last time she’d seen him, and his usually dapper appearance was now shabby and plain. Anger overtook Maryn’s fright and she tried to rise, but fell back when she could not gain her balance with her hands tied as they were.

  “I knew you’d enjoy my rhyme, as you have enjoyed all my others each eve these past days. ‘Tis a gift I inherited from my mother, you know.”

  “What is your purpose? You cannot truly think you will escape punishment for this. My husband will make sure you pay, and pay dearly, if I or our babe is harmed.”

  “Ah, but that is the beauty of this scheme. He will never know I had anything to do with your death. He shall believe you fell from your horse and broke your lovely neck.”

  “He’d never believe such a thing. My husband has seen what a good rider I am. ‘Tis certain, he’ll suspect mischief was involved.” Maryn surreptitiously worked the knots of the tie, trying to loosen them enough to free her wrists. Clyde had not tied the knots very tightly; he had doubtlessly believed her too feeble to overcome his greater strength. But she had a plan. Her slingshot and a few stones were in the lining of her cloak. If she could but free her hands, she might then use her weapon to stun the man long enough to make her escape.

  Clyde Ramsey settled on the ground and leaned against the wall across from her. “You doubt that I can make it appear as if you had an accident while riding? Me? I know more about horses than you ever will, my dear.” He picked up a small pebble and tossed it in the air a few times. “And with your death, your husband is sure to be so grieved that he will leave the holding. Then the Macleans shall have no choice but to allow Callum back as laird. And ‘twill only be a matter of time, I’m sure, before I have my position back as marshal.”