Highland Master

by Howell, Hannah

  “Nay, lass,” said Sir Brian MacFingal as he stepped up to them. “The people of Banuilt ne’er harmed that mon, were always allies—and verra good, trustworthy ones—ready to aid the people of Gormfeurach whene’er it was needed. In return the mon near starved to death all of your fighting men, imprisoning them as if they were the lowest of reivers, tried his best to make certain ye and your people were also left hungry by burning your fields and stealing livestock, and he even tried to force ye to wed with him. Aye, and he did all of these things when, by his own trickery, he left Banuilt undefended and with mostly just bairns and women here. Nay, he dies.” He looked at Brett. “I will fetch my lads.”

  Triona watched her cousin’s husband walk away. “Weel, when put that way . . .”

  Brett chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Brian joined this fight because of how the mon was making women and bairns suffer when he should have been helping them. What was done to your men enraged him, as it has every mon here, those belonging to Banuilt and those just visiting. Aye, and those Gormfeurach men we had so lightly imprisoned. Triona, Sir John’s own people are so horrified and humiliated by their laird’s actions, they would probably hand him o’er for punishment themselves.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “First we go to Gormfeurach and leave some men to secure it against Sir John. I hesitated to go and look for the weapons and horses as planned, because I had hoped Sir Mollison would give me more power to do so, and he did. Now Sir John has been cast out by his own liege laird, so his people can act against him by nay denying me. I dinnae think he will try to return there, as he must ken how his people feel. Yet, he has taken to hiring swords, so one cannae be certain. I continue to think the mon isnae right in the head.”

  “Nay. He appears to have let the return of the land he believes stolen from his clan rule his mind. And if he does hire men to get back into his keep, I cannae feel certain he would care verra much how many of his own people got hurt in the doing of it.”

  “Something I believe his people are now weel aware of.”

  “So ye dinnae believe the people at Gormfeurach will fight ye when ye set men there to hold it against their laird?”

  “Nay. And I shall be able to tell them that Sir John’s liege laird himself has condemned him, called him outlaw, in a way, and given us full right to hunt the mon down. I am also taking Duncan and the others back so they can speak for me.”

  Triona handed him the letter. “Take this. E’en those who are willing to accept your word will feel better acting upon it if they see this. ’Tis nay easy for a mon to take up arms against his own laird, but the words of their liege laird giving them the right to do so, removing all protection from the mon, will settle any unease they feel. ’Tis bad enough that they are now a people without a laird. I cannae help but fear what may become of them.”

  “Since there appears to be no heir, Sir Mollison will probably find them a new laird.”

  “Then I pray the new one will be better than the one they have just lost.”

  Brett nodded and tucked the letter into his bag. He brushed a kiss over her lips and turned to leave, only to stop at the sight of Joan and Aiden. A few days of his wife’s tender care had done a lot of good for the man, but Aiden still looked gaunt and weak.

  “I ken I am in nay condition to ride at your side, but if one of ye will let me share a mount with ye, I would like to go to Gormfeurach with ye,” said Aiden.

  “Why?” asked Brett, ignoring Triona’s soft murmur of protest.

  “Because I ken many of the men there, am e’en kin to a few, and seeing me will set the truth of the tales they have heard firm in their minds.”

  “Joan,” Triona began, and pressed her lips together when Joan shook her head.

  “I dinnae like it, lass, but he has the right of it,” said Joan. “Our men have fought side by side with the men from Gormfeurach from time to time. The people need to see with their own eyes how that mon has treated the best, truest allies Gormfeurach e’er had. Duncan and the others can only tell what they have seen, and there may be ones who willnae heed what they say. Aiden will be the proof they can look at with their own eyes. And, if I guess right, I suspicion some of them have found life under the son a fair lot harder than it e’er was under the father. They will need but a wee nudge to turn against Sir John, and mayhap my Aiden can do the nudging.”

  “Are ye certain ye have the strength for it, Aiden?” Triona asked.

  “I ken I still look more dead than alive, but, aye, I can do this.”

  “Then go, and I will pray that ye are right.” She walked up to him and patted him on the arm, saddened by how thin it was. “Just be sure to rest ere ye return, e’en if it means ye must stay a night away.”

  “Already done promised my Joan that, m’lady,” he answered, and grinned.

  “Then let us go,” said Brett as he strode out of the great hall.

  Triona walked beside Joan as they followed the men. She watched Aiden walk to Harcourt’s mount and swing up into the saddle behind the man with much of the same grace and strength he had had before his capture.

  “What are ye feeding Aiden?” she asked Joan. “His step is nearly as sure and steady as it used to be.”

  “I think some of that may be show before all these other men,” said Joan, “but I have been giving him a hearty ale with a lot of herbs mixed in, twice each day. It appears to help. Either that or my Aiden is one of those blessed with a strong heart and body.”

  “That could be, but I believe we shall start giving your potion to all the men.”

  Triona hooked her arm through Joan’s and walked them back into the manor, where Arianna waited. Her cousin had been wanting to help tend the men brought home to Banuilt, but her husband had been right to tell her to stay away from them until one could be certain they carried no disease. Now she had something she could let Arianna help with, for mixing up herbs in ale would aid in the healing of the men while keeping Arianna away from them. And, she thought, it would also keep her too busy to worry about what Brett and Brian would find at Gormfeurach.

  The men of Gormfeurach looked as if someone had killed their favorite mount, thought Brett. They also looked embarrassed and ashamed. Realizing where their new weapons and horses had come from only added to that.

  “Ne’er seen a people look so defeated when one hasnae e’en unsheathed a sword against them,” muttered Brian.

  “Weel, how would ye feel if ye were told that your laird had done to your allies what Sir John has done?” asked Brett.

  “I’d want to kill him.”

  Brett shook his head and laughed softly. “Aye, ye would, wouldnae ye. Ye have led a harsher life than these people, Brian. I havenae been here verra long, but I begin to think all the fighting men’s training and skill is only occasionally used by Sir Mollison. Here, in this land, they do verra little fighting, face verra little danger. I dinnae think I have e’er kenned two clans to be so intertwined as these two are, so at peace with each other and with many who are nay of either clan.”

  “Aye, ye have the right of it. They are nay in the way of most trouble here, are they? Nay too close to the border, nay too close to the heart of the Lowlands or the heart of the Highlands. Nay close to any of the king’s courts and all that intrigue, either. Nay truly e’en a clan, neither of them, yet I dinnae ken what else to call them. I wouldnae be surprised to find out that this whole place started because some knight found it a good place to rest on his way home from a battle, and the drovers who pass by stopped here. ’Tis indeed a peaceful place, verra sheltered from the world.” Brian shook his head. “They have been dealt a hard lesson now, though.” He looked at Brett. “Are ye certain ye could be happy in such a place?”

  “And who says I e’er thought of staying here?”

  Brett ignored Brian’s snort of disdain as he walked toward the man Aiden was speaking with. “Sit down, Aiden,” he told the pale man, and nodded when Aiden eased himself down onto the steps of the
keep. “I believe we will rest here for the night.”

  “This is Gunn, Sir John’s steward,” Aiden said. “He says he hasnae seen Sir John in days.”

  “Nay, sir,” Gunn said, and ran a hand through his graying brown hair. “I think it has been near to a sennight, almost a week, actually. And before that, the mon would slip in and out like a ghost. I grew weary of chasing him down to speak on the work that must be done here. Now I ken why.” He sighed. “Now I ken that we have no laird.”

  “Do ye think everyone will feel the same?” asked Brett.

  “Aye, sir. Sir John wasnae a verra good laird and he could be harsh, so I think there wasnae much affection for him from the people here. Yet, he was our laird.” He looked at the letter from Sir Mollison that he still held in his hand. “This means he is nay longer laird, may e’en be dead soon, aye?”

  “Aye. E’en if all we do is capture him and send him to Sir Mollison, I believe he will still be killed for what he has done. Ye do ken it was more than just what he did to the garrison of Banuilt, do ye not?”

  “I do, sir. We all do. There were some men who thought the lady of Banuilt should indeed have a husband, but e’en they didnae like the way Sir John was trying to bring her to heel. She and her people have always been good allies, always willing to help when help was needed.”

  “We also kenned there were little more than bairns and women there, and it didnae seem right to give them trouble,” said a burly, dark-haired man as he stepped up behind the steward.

  “My son Ailbert,” Gunn said. “He leads Sir John’s garrison.”

  “What happens to us now, Sir Brett Murray?” asked Ailbert. “We have no laird and no heir to step into his place.”

  “I suspect Sir Mollison will see to that. For now, I wish to set a couple of my men here to watch for Sir John.”

  “To keep the gates barred against him, aye?”

  “Aye. Do ye have any objections? Or think someone else might?”

  “None. And ye will have no complaint from any here. Sir John was ne’er a good laird, but in the last two years, since his father died and he sat in the laird’s chair, he has been a poor laird indeed. And hard. He has a temper, and it could spill o’er for no reason, at the oddest times, and he was harsh when it did.”

  Brett had no doubt the man spoke the truth, and he went to find which men he would leave behind. He could see signs of neglect about Gormfeurach as he moved around, speaking to a few of Sir John’s people and watching over the collection of the weapons and horses that belonged to Banuilt. Sir John had not kept up his own keep very well as he had worked to take Triona’s lands.

  He paused as a woman approached him leading six little girls, and frowned when she stopped in front of him. “May I help ye?” he asked.

  “I am Meg, the nurse, and these be the children of Sir John,” she said. “I ken that they are just wee bastards, but I would like to be kenning what ye mean to do with them now that their father willnae be coming back here.”

  “They live here, Meg?”

  She nodded and revealed her nerves with a hasty brushing back of a strand of black hair. “Their mothers left them here, thinking they would be better cared for.” She leaned closer to Brett. “Nay the sort of lassies who would make verra good mothers, if ye ken what I mean.” She straightened up. “The laird put them in my care, and Gunn made sure I had all I needed to bring them up as the daughters of the laird, bastard born or nay.”

  “Then they will stay, and all will continue as it has,” he said. “I dinnae ken who will be put here in Sir John’s place, however. I will swear to make certain Sir Mollison kens that there are matters that should be allowed to remain as they are.”

  “Thank ye, sir. I was afeard of what may be done with them. They have nay e’en a tiny claim to this place, but some would still see them as a threat.”

  “If that proves true, I will see that ye and the lassies are taken care of.”

  He shook his head after she nodded and herded the little girls away. It was not going to be easy to see that the children did not suffer for the sins of their father. Brett also suspected the ones truly responsible for the girls’ care were Gunn and Meg. It was probably something he should speak to Triona about.

  Thinking about how he would be spending the night without her made him curse softly. Now that Sir John was marked as an outlaw by his own liege laird, it would not be long before the troubles that had been plaguing Banuilt ended. Then he would leave. Brett was no longer surprised at how the thought of leaving Banuilt made his heart clench.

  He needed to decide what he would do about Triona. It was easy to ignore the need for such a decision as he pursued an enemy for her, but he could not keep doing that. Yet he was not sure he could stay, either. Sir Boyd McKee had wed her for her dower and Sir John pursued her for her lands. Since he had nothing of great value to bring to her if he stayed, he feared she could see him as just another man after what she had.

  For a moment Brett considered riding right back to Banuilt, even though he had no real urge to get back on his horse. He decided he was being foolish. It would be nice to curl up in bed with Triona, something he was becoming dangerously accustomed to, but he had no news to tell her immediately, and he had made no firm decision to change how matters stood between them. Suddenly appearing at the gates of Banuilt when it was expected that he would be gone for the night would require one or the other.

  Instead, with Gunn at his side, he went inside the keep. It quickly became apparent that Sir John had spent a lot of money on finery—or his father had. The great hall had furniture and tapestries to rival any Brett had seen before. The man’s bedchamber was equally opulent. Yet, as he walked through the place, he realized that much of the rest of it had been left to wear down, age, and break. He had to wonder why, when Sir John was so clearly incapable of caring for his property, he would think to add to it.

  “I believe this place has been in need of a new laird for quite a while,” he said to Gunn as he settled in a chair in the great hall and the man poured them each a tankard of ale.

  “I fear ye may be right, sir,” Gunn admitted. “My father was steward before me, and he often bemoaned the ways of Sir John’s father. Then the father died, and mine lived just long enough to shake his head and say he thought it was all about to grow worse. I was saddened on the day I realized he was right. What do ye think will happen to us now? Sir Mollison will choose someone, I ken it, but what if he brings all of his own men, other people for the village?”

  “I dinnae ken, Gunn,” Brett answered honestly. “I have ne’er kenned of a place where such a thing has happened. There must be clans who find themselves without an heir to the laird’s seat, but this isnae a clan as I ken it, and I pray ye take no offense at that.”

  “Nay. We think of ourselves as such, but many of us are nay e’en related by blood. We have no long lineage to speak of. This place was begun by a knight who decided he liked the look of it and claimed it, bringing his men with him and later gathering some women. He didnae care where they came from. Then it somehow fell into the hands of a Grant, through a marriage, and that lasted for the past four generations. I believe Banuilt has a similar story.”

  “I wondered if it was that, and ’tis rare such a thing happens. So, nay, I cannae tell ye what will happen. But Sir Mollison has been a good liege laird, so one must hope he chooses a good laird for you.” He grimaced. “And that was verra little comfort, I am fair certain.”

  “Weel, ’tis better than none,” said Gunn, and he smiled but quickly grew serious again. “Find Sir John, sir. For a long while I have worried that he has a sickness in his mind. There is nay telling what he may try to do when he kens he has been cast aside by Mollison. And worse, ye willnae be able to decide where to look or what to look for, as there is nay sense in what a madmon does. Nay one we can see.”

  That was exactly what Brett feared. The man had to know, or would very soon, that he had lost everything. When one considered all Sir
John had done to try to gain something he wanted, Brett did not like to think what the man would do in retribution, or even in some mad attempt to return to what he had lost. He knew who Sir John would blame, however, and he suddenly regretted not giving in to the urge to ride to Banuilt and spend the night in Triona’s arms.

  “The men have obviously decided to stay at Gormfeurach for the night,” said Arianna as she stood up and stretched. “I believe I had best go to bed. The bairn makes me tire e’en though he is still so small.”

  Triona turned from where she had been blindly staring into the fire and smiled at her cousin. They had settled down in her bedchamber because there were still men in the great hall, but she had been so lost in her thoughts, she knew she had been little company for Arianna. She knew that, aside from simply worrying over where Sir John was and what he would do next, she simply did not wish to crawl into her empty bed. Trying to make Arianna stay so she could avoid worrying would be unkind, but it was a tempting thought.

  “I have been poor company for ye,” she said.

  “Nay, ye just have a great deal on your mind.”

  “And ye just said he, so are ye now thinking ye carry a son for Brian?”

  Arianna laughed and rubbed her stomach. “Nay, I dinnae ken what I carry. I but say he on one day and she on the next. It grew tiring saying the bairn all the time.” She patted Triona on the shoulder. “Get some rest, Tri. Ye have done so much these last few days that ye could do with a good night’s sleep.”

  “I was but trying to think of what Sir John will do next.”

  “Ye cannae guess what a madmon will do. Ye will only make your head ache. The men will return on the morrow, and then ye may have some better idea of what to worry about. It will be over soon. I am certain of it.”

  “Do ye have a touch of the sight then?” she teased.

  “Nay, I just have confidence in my cousins and husband. And now I shall go and sleep alone. I find I hate that now,” she murmured as she left the room.