by Julianne Lee
Lindsay seemed to deflate. “He is?”
“Yeah. For a moment when I first saw him, I thought he was Carl. It was spooky.”
A silence fell, for Lindsay never liked to discuss the grown-up Trefor. Then she said, “Nemed is the one who told me I’m descended from the Danann.”
“All right.”
“You know Reubair works for Nemed.”
“I do.”
“I see.”
“But you weren’t with Reubair. Or Nemed.”
“No. Reubair wanted me to marry him. I declined.”
Alex chuckled. “You cut off a guy’s balls and then got a proposal of marriage? Is he nuts?”
She chuckled at that also. “I think so. He thought I needed protection from the men and offered it in exchange for my making babies for him. I put him off.”
“Because you were already married, or because you didn’t want him?”
“Both. He was insistent, though. Rather full of himself as well.”
“As faeries often are. You guys are the most stubborn creatures I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not a faerie.”
“Your son is. Magic and everything.”
She turned away, and though she shivered in the cold she didn’t come back under the blankets. “Let’s not talk about him.”
“We’ve got to eventually. We can’t just ignore the elephant in the kitchen.”
“I can’t address that man out there.” She looked over at the tent flap and gestured to it as if Trefor were standing outside the tent. “I can’t accept that my baby doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like he’s died.” Tears rose to choke her, and her voice trailed off, high and weak.
“He’s grown up, not dead.”
“He’s not...” She held her hands out, grasping at air as if trying to cradle a baby and failing. “He’s not my child. He’s a stranger. He’s... for God’s sake, he’s only a year younger than I am. Every time he looks at me I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind. I don’t want to imagine.”
“He doesn’t think of you that way. I know he doesn’t. He wants you to be his mother.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how. I never got to learn.”
Alex would have liked to have told her it was instinct, but he knew it wasn’t. Not for them. Instinct needed a child, and Trefor had never been one for them. Learning needed time, and that had been stolen from them. Nevertheless, he told her, “You’ll learn.”
“I’m not even thirty years old yet. I’m too young to have an adult son.”
“So you’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”
“He doesn’t.”
Alex knew she was right. Trefor’s childhood was gone, and with them both having left the twenty-first century it was irretrievable. “You’re right. And you know what, that’s something a mom would know.”
For a moment there was silence, then came a snuffling. She laid her palms over her face and began to sob.
“Come,” he said, and took her arm to draw her back onto the bed. “Come back and sleep. It’ll be all right.”
Lindsay lay back down, once again in the shelter of Alex’s body, and he pulled the blankets back over them to get warm while she cried herself out. He had no clue whether anything would ever be all right, but for now he could only comfort her as best he might, then they both would let the issue dissolve for a while in the forgetfulness of slumber.
Chapter Eighteen
On departure for the islands by boat from Oban, Hector returned to Barra, and Alex, Lindsay, and Trefor made their landing on Eilean Aonarach. Alex was eager to re-equip and reprovision for the trip to Cruachan, and curious what he would find there. While his boats were being unloaded at the quay, Alex summoned men from the village for a consultation. The messenger flew to his task, for the earl expressed a desire for Donnchadh and Alasdair Ruadh to report on the double. Lindsay disappeared with her servants into the laird’s apartments beyond the meeting room to clean up and find something appropriate to wear in public as Lady Marilyn MacNeil, Countess of Cruachan. Alex supervised the unloading for a while, then went to his meeting with the village leaders.
In the room below the Great Hall in the castle keep Alex parked himself at the head of the large, highly polished table. A couple of tapestries hung on the walls, but those, the table, and the chairs were the only furnishing other than the thick layer of rushes on the floor. The floor covering was changed far more often than was usual in other castles, for though Alex had become accustomed to rank odors he couldn’t abide the health hazards of food waste thrown on floors and animal leavings left to be taken up with the old rushes. Dogs in his castle were trained to go outside, but the knights and servants who lived there resisted being trained not to throw bones and rinds on the floor. Today he looked around the poorly furnished room and realized he was going to have to fix it up. Now that he was an earl, there would be visits from people he would need to impress just to keep this place. It would be costly. He hoped the new island would bring good income.
Donnchadh MacConnell and his cousin Alasdair Ruadh MacConnell, having been apprised of their laird’s recent elevation, made obeisance to Alex and then were invited to sit at the table. They settled into chairs of varying style and richness. Neither had rank or office that was acknowledged by the crown, but Alex recognized them as community leaders. He looked to them to know the minds of his vassals the same way he’d always tapped certain crewmen to know what was going on with the enlisted guys on shipboard. Knowledge was power.
Donnchadh was a tall, burly man, dark of hair and ruddy of face, who commanded a room with his size and resonant voice, but who also knew the value of a soft tread in the presence of his superiors. Alasdair Ruadh was in most ways opposite his cousin, being painfully skinny, red-haired, and casual in manner. He was the village blacksmith and plainly knew the value of his skills, for he drove a hard bargain in all things. Alex kicked back in his large, heavy seat and requested Gregor to bring refreshment. The boy hurried away on his errand.
Donnchadh appeared a bit nervous, hesitant to speak, and Alex guessed he was hanging back to learn what sort of earl Alex would be. Alasdair leaned heavily on the table in an insouciant manner Alex knew meant he didn’t give a damn whether Alex had become king.
“Cruachan,” said Alex, and proceeded in Gaelic for, like most of the island inhabitants, Alasdair Ruadh spoke no English. “What do you guys know about it?”
Donnchadh smiled. “All that might be worth knowing, I think. My sister married away to the place.”
That surprised Alex. “I never knew you had a sister.”
“Three of them, two still living. One lives with her husband on the mainland, and the younger on Cruachan with her husband, who is a MacDonald.” A steaming platter of meat arrived, rare and bleeding for it was early yet in the day, accompanied by a jug of mead. The men set to the repast without formality, and Alex found himself more hungry than he’d thought. The food tasted wonderful, having been seasoned from his kitchen rather than his supply wagon.
“MacConnells living there?” he ventured with a cheek full of meat.
“MacDonalds mostly. Some MacConnells, who are related to the Dhomhnallach and so traditionally side with them. Some MacNeils and lesser families, but the MacDonalds hold sway there, I think.”
“Who lays claim to the island?”
“Yourself, my lord.”
Alex chuckled. “I mean, who thinks they have a right to it besides me? There’s always someone.” Donnchadh and Alasdair Ruadh both chuckled heartily, for it was true. There was very little land anywhere in Scotland that wasn’t disputed by someone.
The door behind him from the private apartments opened and he turned to watch Lindsay emerge. She’d cleaned up and now wore a fine, gray dress that showed off her figure. It was a bit loose on her for the weight she’d lost since last she’d worn it, but it still draped over her hips in a way that made him not want to ever look away. He stared, and wished Donnchadh and Alasdair Ru
adh could be sent away and he would take her there on the table. But there was more important business at hand, and he forced his attention to it.
Donnchadh was thinking about Alex’s question, then said, “I believe ye might have some trouble from the MacDonalds. They can be a mean, grasping lot, and surely did not take kindly when Robert laid claim to the place after the battle near Stirling.”
“He didn’t take it directly from them. Someone else had it.”
“But neither did he give it back to them. The MacDonald felt he should have.”
“But Robert didn’t install another laird right away?”
Lindsay approached to occupy one of the chairs at the table. Donnchadh and Alasdair Ruadh fell silent. Alex said to her, “What?”
“Go on. I’m listening,” she said.
Alex lowered his chin and hoped she would take the hint she should move along. He figured he knew what she was up to, and wished she would leave it alone. The men he had to deal with would not be comfortable with her around in a meeting like this. He knew she knew it, and he also knew she knew he knew it. She was neither stupid nor ignorant of the situation with these men and their culture. Particularly among these island Scots whose wives were barefoot and pregnant as a matter of course, and it was not a joke. Nor even an issue, for all the clansmen and their kin for hundreds of miles around took it as the natural way of the world.
But she only smiled at him and said, “Go on. You were saying about the families living on Cruachan. The ones who are getting a new master, and you want to know if you’re going to have to evict any of them.”
“I’m hoping not to have to.”
“You hoped not to have to purge this island of Bretons, but when their allegiance to the MacLeods outweighed in their hearts their lawful obligation to you, it came to a fight. Now we need to know whether there will be a fight when we take our men to Cruachan.” She turned to Donnchadh and asked, “Is there a castle?”
We? Alex now frowned at Lindsay, but she ignored him. Our men?
Donnchadh looked at her, then at Alex as if to inquire whether he was supposed to answer his Lady Cruachan’s query. Alex wished Lindsay would knock it off and leave the room, but she pretended she didn’t know she was making the villagers uncomfortable. Alex nodded to Donnchadh, who shook his head and replied to Lindsay. “Nae, my lady, naught but a wee tower. A small keep on a bit of rock but a furlong offshore. The place is quite wild, and the population small.”
Alex’s hope of a large income from the place faded.
Lindsay continued her questioning. “Do the various families fight amongst themselves?”
Donnchadh shrugged. “Nae. The families there have their separate allegiances, but have lived more or less in peace and in the interim since Robert’s victory I’ve heard of no outbreaks. With the MacDonalds so numerous, the rest more than likely saw no use in making trouble. It’s cowed they are. I daresay, though, they’ll be glad to have the matter of their tribute settled. Hard to know who to welcome when the crown is yet uneasy on the king’s brow.”
Alex had to grunt in agreement to that, and Alasdair Ruadh nodded.
“Are there any young men on Eilean Aonarach waiting to marry for lack of a living?” asked the earl.
Donnchadh nodded. “Aye. Three of them.”
“Four,” said Alasdair Ruadh. “Brian’s youngest son will be fifteen soon, and has his eye on my daughter.”
“Does he?” Donnchadh’s eyebrows rose at this news.
“Indeed, and he’s a good lad. I would be glad to see them both in a new tenancy.”
“You’d see them off to Cruachan? Brian being a MacNeil and all, his son willnae be so welcomed by the MacDonalds.”
“They’d prosper.”
“And they wouldnae here?”
“There’s room for them on Cruachan, and the earl will make certain of peace from the MacDonalds there.” He nodded toward Alex as if to affirm his words.
Donnchadh looked to Alex, who said, “We’ll work it out. Everybody will have what they need.”
Lindsay threw him a Look, and he ignored it. He knew someone was going to balk and cause problems or choose the wrong side at one point or another. He would deal with those things as they came. Meanwhile he needed to assure these men — and the village they would report back to at that evening’s céilidh — that he had a handle on the situation. He would do that with a lie if necessary.
“In any case,” said Alex, “I’ll need to take more than just my knights with me when we go to Cruachan. You two tell the villagers I want fifty volunteers to accompany me as pikemen and archers. Fifty. Don’t make me come draft people.”
Donnchadh and Alasdair Ruadh both laughed, and Donnchadh said, “Have no fear, my lord, for your village is filled with men willing to fight for that land. Particularly the MacNeils, who have long felt the place belonged to them.”
Alex nodded, then called for pen and paper to have the MacConnells draw a map of the island for him. There they pored over the thing, talking into the afternoon of the lay of the land, its features and resources, and the placements of farm houses. Lindsay had the good grace to keep quiet now, but did not leave the room and listened closely to all that was said.
After the meeting, once the plate of beef had been demolished, the jug of mead emptied, and the geography of Cruachan firmly embedded in Alex’s memory, he and Lindsay retired to their quarters and some privacy. Gregor poured boiling water into the tub he’d prepared for his master, then Alex dismissed Gregor and Mary to have his bath and a talk with his wife. He began to strip, and his surcoat went onto the floor. Lindsay lounged in a chair by the fire, her legs crossed and one slippered toe poking from beneath her dress hem.
“Don’t do that again, Lindsay.”
“Do what?”
“What you just did. Out there.” He unbuckled his belt, which also dropped to the floor, and he began to untie the closure of his tunic. “Don’t interfere in my business. I know you want to live like — “
“Don’t presume to know what I want. You’ve no idea, because you haven’t asked.”
The tunic came off and he tossed it onto the bed, and he gazed at her a moment, wondering what bug had crawled up her butt that she was suddenly so irritable. But he went on. “You’re used to the way things were in London. In the future. It can’t be like that here.” His linen shirt came off over his head and he let it drop to the floor atop his surcoat.
“Of course not. It’s not the same for you here either. The difference between us being that you’re now a Scottish peer and I’m a bit of chattel.”
“Don’t start that.”
“Don’t pretend it’s not true.”
“It’s not. You’re my wife. And you’re a countess. That’s got to be a step up from writing human interest articles for the London Times.”
“What I do in this castle is supervise servants who know their jobs better than I do. They come to me for orders, and I have to ask them what they usually do. Then I order them to do that. I daresay they think I’m fairly stupid. That’s not even a step up from what I was doing for An Reubair.”
Alex was disgusted to hear the faerie’s name. “You’d rather be a man than a woman.”
“No, I hated pretending to be a man. I hated the posturing and dominance games. You fellows can be unutterably silly with all that, you know, and I rather prefer not having to beat people up just to get their attention. I especially hated having to deny my anatomy. I mean, so what if I have to put a cloth into my drawers a few days a month? So what if I pee sitting down? What I liked was to be taken seriously. To be listened to and not ignored or condescended to. What I liked was to be included in the life going on around me. To have a voice in what would happen, particularly when it affected me. Is it too much to ask to be able to determine my life and get laid on occasion?”
“You have that.”
“No, I do not.” Anger began to redden her ears and neck, and the hard edge in her voice sharpened. “Not as long
as I’m kept from knowing the details of what is going on. Not as long as I’m not kept informed.”
Alex went silent at that, realizing she was right but having no idea what could be done about it.
She leaned forward in her chair and continued. “Just as much as when I was pretending to be a man, my life as Marilyn MacNeil was also a lie. Not to mention a crashing bore. Were I to go back to it, I would be banging my head against these stone walls within a fortnight.” Her knuckles knocked against her forehead. “I couldn’t stand to feel my brain turn to mush the way it did before. It was hell to be stuck here with nothing to do all day but worry you might not come back.”
Backed against a wall, Alex lashed out. “Well, I’m sure your tenure with An Reubair was oh, so intellectually stimulating.”
“As you’ve often said, nearly dying in battle keeps one on one’s toes.”
“Lindsay — “
“I want to be your partner in all things.” She stood now, and stepped toward him. “Let me participate in your business.”
“No. You have your own business.”
“Yes, to support you. To look pretty for your friends who will then be impressed and give you land and let you help run the country. I remember you once denied having what you called ‘political sensibilities.’ Was it a conscious lie, or were you only fooling yourself?”
“I...” For a moment there was a mental whiplash effect as he saw his former American self superimposed over the Scottish earl he’d recently become. He had changed, but didn’t want to stop and decide whether for the better or worse. “I’m not a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy anymore.”
“I’ll say you’re not.”
“I have to function within this society now. I can’t give you authority. If I even appear weak, I’ll be subject to resistance. It’ll mean trouble. I can’t let you weaken my control over my knights or my vassals.”
“Alex, we’ll be strong together. Two heads better than one, and all that. I’ll fight by your side.”