“Will Donald of Cawdor attend, too?” Catriona asked.
Gilli Roy, sitting at Fin’s right on a carved settle, leaned forward with a smile and said in a much more cheerful voice than Katy had heard from him in some time, “I dinna ken about that, m’lady. Likely, another runner went tae Cawdor, though. Tae me own mind, this be a welcome event!”
De Raite announced at suppertime that his messenger had returned with news that the Mackintosh had accepted his invitation. Then, ignoring the raucous cheers of his men, he returned his attention to his supper.
Will, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking, and despite his walk that day, had little appetite.
Beside him, Aly was nearly beside herself with delight, but a look from him silenced any outburst she might have made. “Should I not tell him how happy I am that he has done this?” she murmured later as they arose from the table.
Will glanced at their father, noting that he had turned away from them to talk quietly with Hew.
Then, Will said quietly, “Silence might be wiser, Aly. I doubt he would receive your thoughts kindly but would just say again that this is men’s business.”
“And none of mine, aye,” she said, her happiness visibly fading.
A short time later, Colley asked de Raite if he had invited anyone besides Malcolm to attend the banquet.
“Nae, for the Malcolmtosh and them will ha’ some two score men wi’ them, plus theirselves. This feud be between us Comyns and the Mackintoshes. Did the Thane come wi’ his lot, they’d outnumber us and I canna have that.”
Chapter 17
“Katy, I must find a way to see Aly,” Gilli Roy whispered from below her on the stairs after supper that evening.
“Don’t be daft,” she whispered back, despite the fact that she meant to leave a kerchief on shrubbery near the pool early the next morning for Will to see in the hope that they might meet. “What if your father catches you or hers catches her?”
“But if we’re tae ha’ peace, certes we can—”
“Naught is certain yet,” she interjected. “De Raite may have offered to make peace, but if you think he will let you marry his daughter—”
“Sakes, why would he not?” Gilli demanded.
“Let us go onto the ramparts,” Katy said. “Someone may hear us here.”
He muttered as they continued upstairs. However, he waited until they reached the parapet, with the guards too far away to hear him, to say pleadingly, “Katy, even kings arrange marriages wi’ enemies after a peace. Forbye—”
“How would you get a message to her? How did you do it in the past?”
“I know a chap in Nairn, a cousin tae her woman, who can take a message tae her. I’d ha’ tae go into Nairn tae find him, though. I couldna do that afore I delivered me da’s message tae Sir Fin.”
Katy nearly told him that Aly sometimes came to see her in the woods, but the thought stirred a gentle mental twinge that she was learning to heed. She had to think more about it first, lest such information lead Gilli to do something rash.
Instead, she said, “Gilli, the banquet takes place Friday evening, which is still four days away. Mayhap a chance of some sort will arise.”
“Aye, perhaps, but me da will arrive Wednesday afternoon wi’ his men.”
“Then you must remain cautious,” she said. “You know de Raite would condemn your meetings with Aly if he knew of them, and so would Malcolm. To hope that de Raite’s invitation changes any of that will not make it so, sir.”
He was silent, and she could tell that she had irked him.
At last, he sighed and said, “Aye, well, I’ll be at that banquet wi’ the others, Katy. Likely, Aly will be, too. At least, I can see her then.”
Again the warning sense stirred, silencing Katy before she could remind him—since he seemed to have ignored Fin’s description of de Raite’s household—that the invitation had specified only her father, Malcolm, her uncle Ivor, and their lawful tails. As her mother had noted in the same conversation, de Raite had made no mention of wives or daughters.
“We should go back downstairs now, for my parents must be wondering where we are,” she said tactfully. “Just do not do anything daft, Gilli. If you should spur de Raite to reject reconciliation, my father and yours will want your head.”
He nodded, grimacing, and she led the way down the ladder and waited for him to precede her downstairs to the inner chamber, where they found the rest of her family. When Fin asked Gilli to tell him more about the battle at Moigh, Cat excused herself, taking Katy and Clydia with her back onto the dais.
Men were still moving about in the lower hall, either laying out pallets, playing cards, dicing, or just sitting by the fire and talking.
“We will shortly receive any number of guests,” Catriona said quietly, pausing by the high table. “I shall need your help, both of you—Bridgett’s and Ailvie’s, too, as well as our other women, because I want to be sure that we do all we can to make our visitors comfortable for as long as they must stay.”
“Likely, they will be here only overnight, though, aye?” Clydia said.
“I have learned never to assume such things where men are concerned,” Cat replied with a smile. “I plan for whatever may come, but I have oft been surprised. You should both go along to bed now, though, for you must be up early to help.”
The twins obeyed her and found Bridgett waiting for them in their chamber.
She was, Katy thought, looking rather smug. “You look as if you have just won a contest prize,” she said.
Bridgett gave a slight shrug and smirked as she said, “Aye, well, I ha’ just been told that I ha’ the most beautiful eyes in Scotland.”
“Marry, and who told you that?” Katy demanded. “Surely, not Lochan!” The stolid captain of the guard seemed a most unlikely type to wax poetic.
“You do have very fine eyes,” Clydia said. “Right now, in the candlelight, they look dark, but one can still see the gold rings round your irises. In sunlight, they look bluish gray sometimes and pure blue or pure gray at other times.”
“Aye, ‘fascinating,’ he said they are,” Bridgett said.
“Never tell me that Lochan said any such a thing to you,” Katy said. “I doubt that the man kens how to speak so prettily.”
“Nae, he does not,” Bridgett said with a grimace. “Though, tae be fair, he did say he liked the color o’ my eyes better than his own. Nobbut what the man has the brightest, bluest eyes I ever did see, ’specially when they twinkle.”
“Then who did say that your eyes are the most beautiful?” Clydia asked her.
Raising her chin, Bridgett said, “Bruce MacNab, that’s who. The man be pure smitten wi’ me. He said so.”
Clydia frowned. “Bridgett, you do know that MacNab is Sir Àdham’s squire and expects one day to become a knight. He has always seemed to be an honorable man, but he may be toying with you, or mayhap he …” She paused, then added gently, “One cannot know what he is thinking.”
“Och, nae, I ken fine what he be thinking,” Bridgett said with a chuckle. “But if his flirting can stir Lochan tae pay more heed tae me, ’tis all tae the good.”
“That,” said Katy, “sounds like a dangerous game for you to play.”
Laughing, Bridgett turned to pour water from the ewer to the basin for Clydia and then helped Katy with her laces.
Exchanging a look with her twin, Katy shook her head.
Later that night, after Alyssa had gone to bed and the household servants had retired to their cottages in the clachan, de Raite sent for his sons, his nephew, and those of his loyal men-at-arms who were not already in the hall to gather there.
Wakened from a deep but much-too-short sleep, Will groggily donned his tunic, made his way down from the attic, and took his place at the high table.
“Colley,” de Raite said, “see tha
t the screens passage be clear and lock yon door there tae the kitchen. Liam, look intae yon minstrel gallery, the attic behind it, and the garderobe tae be sure nae one lingers, whilst Hew sees tae the stairways and solar. Hew, make certain Alyssa be asleep in her bedchamber wi’ Meggie.”
Silence fell while the three brothers did as he bade them.
When he was satisfied that he was alone with his sons and most loyal men, de Raite said, “I want ye all tae stand now and, one man at a time, tae take a solemn vow afore God wi’ your hand on yer heart, tae say naught tae any person o’ what I tell ye here. Ye’ll thereby send your immortal soul straight tae hell an ye breathe a word of it tae any man, woman, or child outside o’ us right here in this chamber, now or ever after, ’less I give ye leave. D’ye all ken the sanctity o’ such an oath?”
“Aye, sir,” they replied as one, getting to their feet.
Then, one by one, each man placed his hand on his heart and repeated the vow exactly as de Raite phrased it. Still only half awake, seeing no alternative despite a sense that he should refuse to make a promise without having some idea of what its consequences might be, Will recited the vow in his own turn just as his brothers and the other men had.
“Good then,” de Raite said when the last man had spoken. “Ye can sit down now.” When they had obeyed, he let seconds pass before saying in a confiding tone, “There be one detail o’ this upcoming banquet o’ ours that I failed tae tell ye.
“Fact is,” he added, “I mean tae put an end tae the Malcolmtosh and all who come wi’ him. I’ll tell ye how I mean for us tae do it, but dinna forget, if ye repeat a word o’ what I say tae any other person, ye’ll not only imperil your immortal soul, but if I learn o’ your treachery, I’ll send ye straight tae hell, m’self.”
“What aboot our Highland law o’ hospitality?” Colley asked, tugging an ear.
“Bah,” de Raite snapped. “When we visited Loch Moigh, did Malcolm observe our laws o’ hospitality? He did not, so we’ll be acting same as he did.”
An icy chill slid up Will’s spine, sharpening his mind and banishing any momentary urge to point out that Malcolm had not invited them to Moigh Castle.
What, he demanded of himself, had he just done? How could he possibly allow de Raite and the others to murder Katy’s father, uncle, and granduncle?
For surely de Raite had just declared such intent.
Moreover, he had—however reluctantly—sworn the oath before God, making it one that he could not break without risking an eternity in hellfire.
Will’s thoughts kept him awake for a long time, but he slept again at last, only to waken Tuesday morning from a pleasurable dream of Katy’s beautiful bare legs and saucy grin to the mind-numbing memory of what had taken place the previous night.
As usual, he was the first to break his fast, but he had no sooner accepted a bowl of porridge than Dae joined him and sent the gillie to fetch warm bread.
“What brings you down so early?” Will asked him.
“I’m a-going wi’ ye today,” Dae said. “I need tae talk wi’ some’un, and I canna talk tae any o’ the others, so I’m a-going with ye.”
Yearning for solitude to help him think and optimistically hoping to see Katy, even at a distance, Will said, “We can talk here.”
“Nae, then, we cannot,” Dae said flatly. “Sithee, de Raite said Liam should go wi’ ye. He said he didna want nae one from last night going about on his own the noo, but Liam said he didna want tae go. He’s had his fill o’ the ridge. So I said I’d be willing, and your da ordered me tae go wi’ ye, so here I be.”
When Will nodded silently, Dae picked up the meat platter, helped himself to several generous slices, and then thanked the gillie who returned with his bread.
Eating his porridge, Will wondered what his cousin wanted to say to him, but Dae held his peace until they were striding through the gray dawn light toward the top of Raitt’s side of the ridge and well away from Raitt.
As the sun peaked over beautiful snowcapped mountains in the east, Dae said, “I must tell ye, Will, I could see that yer da’s scheme stunned ye as much as it stunned me last night. Even Colley seemed perturbed, talking as he did o’ Highland laws o’ hospitality. What I ha’ gleaned o’ such be that ye owe safety tae any man under your roof, and if a man requests hospitality ye must give it. Then, having given it, ye must keep him safe. Or be I wrong about that, and the man hisself has tae ask for yer hospitality afore the law applies?”
“You are not wrong,” Will muttered, aware that their voices could still travel far in the current silence, although they were above the tree line and had seen no one else. “If de Raite does as he says he will …” He sighed.
“’Twould be slaughter,” Dae said. “I canna be party tae such villainy, Will. I ha’ small ken o’ Mackintoshes and nae quarrel wi’ them. Sithee, though, I ha’ me doots that de Raite will let me leave here and take me ken of all o’ this wi’ me.”
Thinking that de Raite would likely kill Dae if the man said that he wanted to leave now that he knew of de Raite’s secret plan, Will hesitated to say so and tried to think how he might express his own thoughts safely. The most important thing, though, was that they not continue discussing the subject in the open, as they were.
“Dae, I want to think about what you have said, but this is no place for private talk. I have overheard whole conversations of men below and above me on these slopes. When I travel this way, I go silently.”
“Sakes, I ha’ seen nae one or heard any voices,” Dae said, looking around.
“I do have ken of a gey private place,” Will replied. “But we must first make certain that de Raite does not send anyone to spy on us. He may have doubts about both of us now, and if any of the others should hear us talking …”
“Aye, sure, they’d betray us tae him straightaway, but I’ll keep a-comin’ with ye as long as de Raite commands us tae go in pairs. Mayhap ye could quiet-like point out some o’ the landmarks hereabouts, though. When I came tae Raitt wi’ Hew two years ago, we never came up this way.”
Will quietly noted such places until they neared the top of the ridge. Then, he suggested that if Dae wanted to see wildlife other than birds or squirrels, they should henceforth keep silent. “We must watch for activity at Finlagh,” he added, “but they ken fine that we’re likely to be here, so from now on you must use your skill at moving silently through woodland.”
“Aye, sure, I oft track and take deer in the Lowlands, so we’ll no talk at all whilst we be on t’other side o’ the ridge.”
Nodding, Will led the way over the top. His thoughts lingered on Dae’s concerns and his own as they went, but he saw only one solution for Dae. He must disappear before the banquet. However, if he left soon after walking a patrol with Will, de Raite would likely suspect collusion. And if—
Seeing Katy’s kerchief draped on a shrub by the pool diverted his thoughts only until he realized that Katy would visit the Stone in vain that day, for he could hardly take Dae to such a meeting.
Nor could he face her himself with what he now knew, having sworn his solemn oath to speak of it to no one other than the men de Raite had informed. He could not bear to think about the heartbreak Katy would suffer at the loss of her beloved father and other close members of her family. Nor could he dwell on the loss he and Katy would suffer themselves as a result of such a betrayal.
Even so, much as he disliked de Raite, he had willingly agreed to return to Raitt Castle from Inverness when de Raite had sent for him and had served his duty with his Comyn kinsmen. Although he had never formally sworn loyalty to de Raite as his liege, the man was his father and had right and reason to expect his sons to be loyal to him and to their clan.
Also, and most important, he had sworn his oath of silence before God.
Tuesday morning passed swiftly for Katy and Clydia in a flood of chores and responsibilities. They too
k turns aiding the baker and helping with other such tasks generally left to maid- and menservants. Although Malcolm’s men and Sir Ivor’s would attend the banquet, Malcolm’s party would arrive Wednesday, and Sir Ivor’s late Thursday unless something unexpected delayed them. They would all return after the banquet, however, to spend one or more nights at Finlagh before returning home.
Katy soon rejected any thought of slipping away to the Stone that afternoon. She was certain, though, that in the hustle and bustle that would ensue after Malcolm arrived with his men she would be able to do so on Wednesday.
As Captain of the Confederation, Malcolm would bring his allotment of twenty men and likely a few more to leave at Finlagh. Her father and Sir Ivor, as knights of the realm, would take eight men each in their tails, so if Ivor chanced to arrive Wednesday instead of Thursday, Finlagh would become even more chaotic.
As Katy attended to her duties, her thoughts kept drifting to the kerchief she had left at the pool. If Will had seen it that morning, he would expect her to be waiting at the Stone that afternoon, but she dared not go without good cause to be away. On the morrow, she would have bread enough to take the cottars’ portion to them, to share again with those of Malcolm’s and Sir Ivor’s men who would be sleeping overnight in the woods.
That meant more bread than usual, so Clydia would likely go with her, but she could still slip away long enough to meet Will at the Stone. Just not today.
It occurred to her that if Will had seen her kerchief the day before or that morning, he might take the chance of meeting her at the stream on his way back.
Accordingly, she sped through her tasks, setting a gillie to count pallets to be sure there would be enough for the men who would need them. Some of the men would sleep in the woods near the cottages, but others would sleep in the hall and the courtyard and would need pallets on their stones.
The Kissing Stone Page 23