He made a frustrated noise low in his throat. She acted as impulsively as if she was a bairn chasing after sweets. But of course he couldn’t blame her for her excitement. After all, the man was an excellent musician. Thom got up, and reluctantly followed Mairead out into the open. The smaller man appeared harmless enough. Hopefully he would be on his way soon.
“Ye appear lost, guidman,” Mairead called out.
A startled look appeared on the man’s face, his hands frozen above the strings of his musical instrument. He regarded Mairead, and then turned his scrutiny on Thom, sizing him up in one sweeping glance.
A second later, he recovered from his shock. “Aye, ‘tis true. I am a wee bit lost,” he said, his voice warm and cultivated like a man who possessed formal education. “I traveled with my clan, and I became separated from them.”
“How did this happen?” Mairead asked, her brow creased with sympathy.
He gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “A rare flower caught my attention, and while I was examining it, the clan left without me.” Seeing her appalled expression, he explained, “This has happened tae me before, sae dinnae worry. I always catch up tae them. Right now, my clansmen are making their way tae Bracken Ridge, sae I’ll meet them there.”
“Tae Bracken Ridge?” Mairead repeated. Thom shook his head to stop her from revealing anything. But she either didn’t notice his subtle warning or she ignored it. Tilting her comely visage to the stranger, she smiled. “That’s where we’re headed.” She looked longingly at the lute, and then turned to Thom, her eyes pleading. “Can he travel with us?”
Thom shook his head. “I’m already escorting ye. I dinnae want tae be responsible for a second person.”
“I cannae see how adding a second person tae our party will cause any problems. Besides, the man can play music,” she said, her eyes shining.
He surveyed the lute with consideration. Music was hard to come by, especially when they were so far from civilization. “Aye,” he let out a sigh. “We’re headed in the same direction, sae I suppose he can join us.”
She gave him a bright smile. Despite himself he returned her smile, warming to the idea of having entertainment during the evenings. In the past music was a part of him. It was then that he foolishly believed that it had the power to make him forget about his miserable life.
“Thank ye,” the man said, a relieved grin stretching across his countenance. But then his expression fell. “One thing I require is a new sword. When my clan left, they took all my belongings with them.” His mouth twisted into a small grimace. “I think ye would agree with me that a man without a weapon is a vulnerable one. By the way, my name is Makolm Gibball.”
“I’m Mairead, and this is Thom,” Mairead offered.
“’Tis a pleasure tae join your company,” he said, lifting his cap. His features were ordinary except for the splatter of freckles that spread across the bridge of his nose. He appeared harmless enough, and resembled a scholar more than a warrior. If she needed to, even Mairead would be able to defend herself against the man.
“Sae ye are a scholar,” Thom said, eyeing the man speculatively. The stranger looked like he could barely handle a claymore let alone use one to fight, although Thom didn’t say this aloud.
“Ye can say that,” Makolm said, nodding his head. His sights fell to the dagger at Thom’s belt. “I can see that ye might need tae replace your dirk as well.”
Thom glanced down at the cracked handle on his dagger, surprised at the other man’s astute observation. “Perhaps.”
“There’s a small town near here that has a verra guid swordsmith,” Makolm said.
“I thought ye told us that ye are lost,” Thom said, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.
“I’ve lost my clansmen, aye, but I’ve come through here a couple of occasions, and ken a little of the region.”
“Then ye dinnae need tae come with us. Ye can make your own way tae Bracken Ridge.”
“I suppose I could, although I would enjoy the company.”
Mairead sent an imploring look over at Thom. “Please dinnae change your mind. Let him come with us.”
“Fine, lead the way tae the village,” he said, sighing. Maybe having an extra person in their troop would keep Mairead occupied and thereby stop her incessant questions. And maybe with her attention diverted, he could forget how captivating she was.
***
Thom rode a little ahead of them, his keen eyes scanning the thicket. He appeared alert, as if he expected something to occur. But then again, her protector always seemed watchful. Makolm on the other hand was relaxed and amusing. He was well traveled, and told her stories from his past excursions. She couldn’t help but hang on to his every word since he traversed through more places than her brothers. It was doubtful that she would ever see all the places the scholar described, so hearing about the far-flung places in Scotland was the next best thing. His recounts confirmed to her that there was more to life than what occurred within the confines of Tancraig Castle.
“How much further do we have tae go before we reach the village?” Thom asked, cutting into the conversation that Mairead was having with the scholar.
“We’ll have tae keep following along this burn,” Makolm said, indicating the waterway that flowed to the right of them.
Thom viewed the length of the stream, a doubtful expression on his handsome features. The water stretched far beyond the skyline.
“I think the crossing is over here,” Makolm called a few minutes later. He gestured toward the bank where the area seemed shallower. “I remember observing this tree stump the last time I came this way.”
Thom gave a curt nod and led his stallion through the narrow water. Mairead felt a bit apprehensive, but she plunged ahead when she saw that the messenger had made it easily to the other side of the bank. The scholar followed behind her, lifting his instrument in the air as if he feared that it would get wet. Once they made it to dry land, Thom took them deeper into the forest. Mairead noted the multi-colored leaves that covered the ground. In awe, she realized that beauty was all around her. Prior to this journey she never really appreciated what existed outside her reality. However with each step away from Tancraig Castle, her knowledge of the world expanded. She felt energetic, as if she was a bird that had just escaped from its cage. If she had known that the world was like this, she might have insisted that she be allowed to explore it.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” Thom announced. He dismounted from his horse, and tethered it to a nearby tree. When he was done, he glanced over at them. “I want ye both tae gather wood for the fire.” Not waiting to see whether they obeyed his orders, he started to clear the area of debris.
Makolm helped her to secure their horses. Lifting the leather strap from his shoulder, he said, “I dinnae think your friend likes me much.” He leaned his instrument by a small tree, and started to search the ground for kindling.
“He’s nae my friend, and ‘tis doubtful that he likes me either,” she said with a laugh. She saw some dead branches overhead, and snapped them off from the tree. “He’s barely said anything tae me in the past few hours.”
“Ye dinnae ken him?” he asked, surprised. A piece of wood dropped from his bundle, and he bent to pick it up.
“Nae well,” she shook her head. She glanced over at Thom, only to see his profile. The messenger had created a tower from the branches he gathered, and was using a flint to start a fire. Preoccupied with his task, he seemed unaware of them. “I doubt that verra few people can claim tae ken him.”
Chapter 9
“We’ve been riding for hours.” Mairead lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead, and she let out an exhausted sigh.
“The village is here somewhere.” Makolm shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, and threw her an encouraging look. “It cannae be too much further.”
“Ye have said those verra words many times,” she pointed out.
“We’re lost,” Thom said, not bothering
to keep the irritation from his voice. He was annoyed with himself for allowing the scholar to take the lead. He had believed that the fool knew where he was going. “Tell me the name of the place, and where exactly ‘tis located.”
“The village is called Greenbrae,” Makolm said. “I dinnae have the exact coordinates, but from what I recall, the settlement is near an abbey.”
“An abbey?” Thom repeated.
“Aye, the priory sits on top of a large hill and overlooks the community. I’m nae imagining the existence of the settlement, because this was the last place we stopped.” He pinched his bottom lip while a perplexed expression appeared on his visage. “I remember the villagers being verra hospitable.”
The description of the small town sounded like any other hamlet that he had come across. Spying the highest tree in the area, he walked toward it and craned his head back to stare up to the top of the tree.
“What are ye going tae do?” Mairead asked,
“There’s only one way tae tell if the scholar kens what he’s talking about.” He grabbed onto a tree limb. “I’ll climb this tree, and will see if I can spot the abbey that he described.”
As he scaled the tree, Thom kept his sights straight ahead, not daring to look down. At the increasing height he could hear loud creaking sounds as the wind push at the tree trunk. He tried his best to ignore how weakened the bole became the higher he climbed. He was almost at the top when he looked back at the direction they traveled, and caught sight of a dark mass that sat on a mound. It had to be the abbey. Squinting, he saw the faint wisps of smoke curling up from various points along the base of the hill. He let out a slow breath of relief at finding evidence of a thriving community. Makolm wasn’t lying about the place after all. They must have somehow missed a turning point, since they were well past the mark. But fortunately they weren’t too far from the place. If they retraced their steps, he estimated that they would arrive at their destination within the hour.
Satisfied with what he discovered, Thom made his slow descent. When he was a foot away from the ground, he jumped and landed softly on his feet.
“I ken where the village is,” he said, getting back on his horse. “Follow me.”
***
When the abbey came into view, Makolm glanced over at them, a sheepish look on his face. “This is the place.”
“’Tis nay thanks tae ye that we’re here,” Thom said, his voice curt. He was tired, hungry, and wanted to go on his way. “Let’s get tae the swordsmith, and then leave this place.”
“Aye, let’s do that,” Makolm agreed.
As they rode into the small town, some of the villagers curiously watched their arrival; however the majority of them were too busy with their chores to give them notice. Makolm led them past the market square, and reined his horse in front of the blacksmith’s shop.
The commotion of their arrival brought a burly man to the front of his shop, a hammer still in his hand. He blinked when he saw the scholar. “Makolm. What can I help ye with this time?” he asked.
“I find that I’m in need of a new sword, guidman,” Makolm said. He glanced down at the dagger that hung at the side of Thom’s hip. “And my friend needs a new dirk.”
The swordsmith beckoned for them to come inside. “Ye are in luck,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I have some that are already made. If ye dinnae like the ones I have, then ye will have tae wait a few days until I forge a new blade.” He walked to the side of his workspace, and pulled out a sword from a pile on the table. Placing the flat of the blade on his palm, he caressed it lovingly. “This was made tae the specifications of a warrior, but he didnae have the funds tae pay me. I couldnae give the claymore tae him for free. After all, I have a family tae support.”
Makolm took the weapon, admiring its craftsmanship. “It appears that his loss is my gain,” he said. “What about the dagger?”
“Och, I should have something tae sell tae ye.” He searched around his small workspace, and his eyes lit upon some metal weapons that were piled on the floor. He walked over to the mound and dug around until he found a small dagger. “Some desperate soul sold me this piece. Normally I wouldnae buy blades already forged, but this one is a true beauty.”
Thom took it from the craftsman. He held it up, twisting it in the air, examining it. A strand of light reflected off the sharp edge and bounced off the wall. It called to him, and gave him cold satisfaction as it sat comfortably in his hand. He knew now that his current blade wasn’t adequate enough. This one was sturdy, sharp and well made, qualities enough to quickly pierce through Lester’s black heart.
“I’ll take it.” Thom reached into his pouch to pay for the dagger.
“I can get that,” Makolm said.
“Nay,” he said, stopping the other man. “I can afford tae buy my own weapons.”
“Do what ye will,” the scholar shrugged, and took the sword from the blacksmith. “Now that we are sufficiently armed, we can be on our way.”
“I can sell ye a leather sheath, if ye require it,” the swordsmith said, noting the difficulty the other man experienced.
“It would be a guid idea,” Makolm said, and moved off with the craftsman to examine the offerings on the other side of the room.
“We should get some food while we’re here,” Mairead suggested when they stepped out of the blacksmith’s shop an hour later. “Dinnae ye think that it would be nice tae consume a hot meal at the tavern?”
“I dinnae want tae linger here.”
“Please, Thom,” she said, imploring him to reconsider. “We can grab a bite tae eat. It shouldnae take too long.”
“I wouldnae mind having something tae eat as well,” the scholar interjected. “It would be guid tae be in civilization again and have some whisky. We’ll soon be back in the woodland, and will unlikely run into this opportunity for a long while.”
Thom started to say something but then he stopped. A hopeful gleam lit Mairead’s fetching hazel eyes, and despite himself, he softened toward her. Then going against his better judgment, he said, “All right, we can sup here.”
“Och, ye have made an excellent decision,” Mairead said, clapping her hands together. “Come, let’s go tae the tavern before they run out of food.”
As soon as they walked into the tavern, the boisterous noise struck her. At the far end, an old man played a bagpipe, the tunes jaunty and quick. A small cluster of people gathered around the musician and danced.
A group of men who sat at the corner of the room abruptly stopped their conversation and drinking when they spied her. They were strangers here, she told herself. Naturally the presence of outsiders would rouse curiosity. But her own reassurances did little to comfort her, and their lecherous perusal of her started to make her skin crawl.
Mairead stepped closer to Thom, glad for his solid presence. She couldn’t imagine what she would do if she was alone. Not too long ago, Adrina MacGill had arrived at Tancraig Castle without an escort. At the time Mairead was amazed that no harm had befallen the lass.
“Ignore them,” Makolm said, noticing her discomfort. “Dinnae acknowledge them, and they’ll move on to some other lassie.”
She nodded. Makolm was right; the best course of action was to pretend that they didn’t exist.
“Let’s sit over there,” she said, spotting some empty stools.
They wound their way to the area, and settled into their seats. Off to the right a large vat of stew bubbled in the open hearth. Now that she was in the tavern, she was determined to consume something that was rich and flavorful. While she didn’t regret leaving Tancraig Castle, she missed the delicious food that the cook made.
A serving woman spotted them and came over.
“What are ye cooking?” Mairead asked, her stomach beginning to rumble. It was hours since her last meal.
“Turnip stew,” the wench said.
Mairead swallowed her disappointment. Of all the vegetables on offer, turnips were her least favorite. No matter how th
e cook prepared them at home, she couldn’t stomach the taste.
“That’s what I’ll have,” Makolm said.
“I’ll have it too.” She supposed that the stew was better than nothing. At least it was something that would ward off the autumn chill and warm her belly. Mairead glanced over at Thom, but he seemed disinterested in their conversation. His movements were casual, although she knew that he was alert and scoping out the room. She nodded to the woman. “We’ll take three orders of the stew.”
But the wench didn’t appear to hear her. Instead, her regard was fixed squarely on Thom.
“Will ye be staying long?” she asked, her tone becoming saccharine. She flicked her long hair over her shoulders and batted her eyelashes. All the while she allowed her eyes to roam boldly over Thom’s sturdy frame. “I can get a chamber ready for ye, if ye like,” she added, running her tongue suggestively across the seam of her lips.
“We willnae be staying here tonight,” Mairead said sharply. Her face turned red when Thom gazed at her with one brow slightly lifted. “At least we never discussed the prospect.”
“That’s unfortunate.” The serving woman’s eyes slid over to Mairead, a momentary look of distaste crossing her countenance. But then she returned her focus on Thom, allowing an easy smile to flit across her mouth. “If ye decide tae change your mind, just tell me, and I can arrange your accommodations.”
A strange feeling gathered in Mairead’s chest, but she forced herself to relax. Even though she had no business being jealous, the young woman’s behavior toward Thom caused her to become annoyed. She straightened her spine, and stared down at the serving woman, allowing her features to harden into a mask. The haughty expression was one that she and Kila had rehearsed in case they received an invitation to the queen’s court. “Bring us three bowls of stew. That is all.”
The wench frowned slightly and backed down. “Aye, milady.”
Mairead watched the woman walk away, her hips swaying noticeably as she moved. She seemed well aware that she garnered the attention of almost every male in the small establishment. The serving wench obviously knew her allure, and she made sure to display it.
Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4) Page 6