by Amanda Scott
Fin said quietly, “Rothesay is his own man, sir. One in my position does not question his motives or discuss them, as I am sure you will understand.”
“I do, aye. I’ve heard he has a fiendish temper. I have also heard that we are to be his hosts for some time longer.”
“If you expect me to tell you how long, I cannot oblige you,” Fin said with a smile. “He rarely shares his exact intentions.”
They talked desultorily until the Mackintosh indicated that the meal was over and suggested that Rothesay and Shaw join him in the inner chamber.
When Shaw gestured for James to go with them, Ivor said in an undertone to Fin, “Don’t you dare go anywhere until we have talked, my lad.”
“I was just going to say the same to you, albeit more courteously,” Fin said with a rueful smile. “I am, after all, enjoying your family’s hospitality.”
“If that was meant as a comment on my manners, we can go out to the yard to discuss which of us has got better ones,” Ivor retorted with a glint in his eyes.
“Hawk, I have already deduced where your sister got her temper,” Fin said. “You needn’t remind me.”
“Just what did you do to learn that she has a temper?” Ivor demanded.
“Nowt to raise a brother’s hackles, as you who know me better than anyone should know,” Fin replied calmly.
“I may have known you once, Lion. But I did not know your true name even then. And, for all I know now, events may have altered you beyond my ken.”
“I could say the same of you,” Fin said, glancing around to be sure that no one else had wandered near enough to hear what they said. In a lower tone, he added, “Would it not be better to talk in the yard or elsewhere?”
“We’ll go to my chamber,” Ivor said. “ ’Tis nobbut a hole in the wall. I shared a larger one with James before he married and that option vanished.”
“I should hope so,” Fin said, grinning. “Lead the way then.”
Despite Catriona’s relief that the meal had ended, she was annoyed to find herself relegated to the company of women and more so to see Ivor bear Fin off and up the stairs without as much as a word from either one of them to her.
She saw that Morag was just as peeved when James followed their father into the inner chamber but found no solace in that.
Although Catriona wanted to know what Rothesay sought from her kinsmen, she cared more about what Fin and Ivor were saying. Both having agreed to explain their relationship, she had hoped that they would do so together.
“I’m going to bed,” Morag stated to all generally. “If you see James, prithee be so kind as to tell him that I shall be eager to welcome him when he comes to me.”
Catriona nodded but had no intention of waiting for James to reappear.
Believing that Fin would seek her out later if Ivor did not, she tried to think how she could avoid spending the time until then stitching or tatting in the ladies’ solar with her mother and grandmother.
Should that be her fate, she knew that with so many more men at the castle, the older women would insist that she go to bed when they did.
Her excuse to evade that had to be plausible, though, and she dared not lie to them. It would be unwise, for example, to say that she was going to bed if she meant to slip out the postern door to gaze at stars as she frequently did. Not that doing so would be wise in any event that night. Her father had brought enough men with him to fill two lower-hall trestles at supper, and many would sleep in the yard.
After months of feeling nearly empty, the castle now felt full to overflowing.
Hawk was right. His chamber was too small, and it felt even smaller when he turned toward Fin after lighting a number of candles.
He still held the taper that he had taken from a box at the foot of the stairway and lit from a cresset in one of its niches. Extinguishing the taper now, he looked long and thoughtfully at Fin, and sternly, as if Fin were an errant squire.
Fin met the look silently until Hawk grabbed his shoulders and squeezed them hard, saying, “It is good to see you, Lion. I cannot describe how I felt when I saw the river Tay swallow you and sweep you off toward the sea. When you went under…”
He turned away and fiddled with the nearest candle as if it had sputtered.
Fin knew that it had not. “I let the current carry me for a time, lest someone pick up a bow and finish me off.”
“Sakes, you don’t think—!”
“Nay, nay, although you are the only man I know who could have made such a shot.” A sudden memory of Catriona, boasting, made him chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your sister told me that her brother Ivor was the finest archer in all Scotland, and I informed her stoutly that I knew a better one. Mayhap I should have suspected the truth then. After all, you were fighting with Clan Chattan against us.”
“I was, aye. But I don’t believe that either of us was thinking much by the end of that battle. A dreadful affair it was.”
“Aye, and all Albany’s doing, according to Rothesay,” Fin told him.
“Father suspected that from the outset, for all that his grace the King issued the command to trial by combat. Albany does not like us here in the north, especially Clan Chattan. We were allies of the last Lord of the North, after all. And we have refused to let Albany’s worthless son succeed him in place of his own son.”
“ ’Tis true, aye. No one in the north could want Murdoch Stewart to take Alex’s place at Lochindorb. By all accounts, Alex is a better man and warrior.”
“Donald of the Isles might prefer Murdoch for being the weaker,” Ivor said. “But never mind that, Lion. Where did you go when you climbed out of the Tay?”
“Where do you think?”
“St. Andrews?”
Fin nodded.
“I see. You saw his reverence then. Did you tell him what had happened?”
“I did, aye. At present, he is the only man save yourself who can identify the coward who left the field by flinging himself into the river.”
Shooting him a grim look, Ivor said, “Did you tell him that I told you to go?”
“Nay, I was sure that you’d tell him yourself if you wanted him to know.”
“I thank you for that, I think. It raises another issue, though. Sithee, I have served Alex Stewart just as you serve Rothesay, and whilst we were in the Borders, Traill sent for me. He gave me a message for Alex to go to Moigh, saying that he dared put nowt in writing for fear it would end up in the wrong hands. When we met Davy in Perth, someone had just told him that we were to meet here instead.”
“That was my man, Toby Muir,” Fin said. “Rothesay sent me to persuade your grandfather to host the meeting, and the Mackintosh wanted it held here. I also sent a message to Lochindorb in the event that Alex should return meantime.”
“Traill must be heavily involved in this then, must he not?”
“Aye, for he sent me to serve Davy two years ago,” Fin said.
A loud double rap on the door diverted them both.
When Ivor snapped, “Enter,” the door swung open to reveal Catriona with a jug and two goblets in her hand.
“Grandame thought that the two of you might like some wine,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I have carried it all the way up here to you myself, to preserve your privacy. Does not such an effort deserve proper payment?”
Chapter 8
Catriona watched warily as Ivor took the jug from her, trying to decide if he was angry or amused. Either mood would annoy her, but the latter one was safer.
He said, “Come in, Cat, so I can shut the door. But I warn you, you may not learn all that you want to know. Some things are not for you to hear.”
“Sakes, you of all people should know that I can keep a secret,” she said. “I’ll hold my tongue about the two of you knowing each other,” she added when he frowned. “But only if you will tell me how that came to be so.”
“I hope that is not a threat,” Ivor said, his tone sending
a shiver up her spine.
“Don’t scold her, Hawk,” Fin said. “I’ve already promised to tell her what I can, but I did want to discuss things first with you.”
“Aye, well, we met at St. Andrews,” Ivor said, taking the jug from her and pulling out its stopper. As he poured wine into one of the goblets, he added, “You will recall that Granddad and Father sent me to the bishop there some years ago.”
“To study, aye,” she said, trying to remember what she could of those days. “I was no more than a bairn when you left, being six years younger than you are.”
With the quick, unexpected smile that often surprised her after she had irked him, he held the goblet out to Fin and said, “I do know that, lass.”
“I just meant that you cannot expect me to recall much about those days. I must have been about four when you left. And although you came back each year for a visit… long enough to teach me things such as to paddle our raft and to swim… you were away much of the time until I was nearly ten. I don’t know anything about St. Andrews except that you learned to read well there.”
“We did, aye, and learned much else forbye,” Ivor said.
“Also, you did teach me my letters and numbers.”
“Bishop Traill believes in educating anyone who wants to learn, and many who do not,” Ivor said with a wry look. “He believes that if men learn the history of places beyond their ken, and about each other, they will better understand themselves and other men—other countries, too, such as England and France, come to that.”
“But if you were a student with Fin… with Sir Finlagh,” she amended hastily, “then why did you not know his name?” She glanced at Fin, but he kept silent.
“For the same reason that he did not know my name,” Ivor said. “Traill’s students study at St. Andrews by invitation. He chooses mostly younger sons of powerful nobles and clansmen, as well as other lads who show promise in their studies, or with weapons, or in other ways.”
“What other ways?”
Ivor smiled again. “One friend of ours had already gained much expertise in sailing ships and galleys when he joined us.”
“I can see how ships might help the bishop spread understanding, if that is what he was to do. But why would a man of the Kirk teach you skill with weapons?”
“Because, in our world, such skill earns respect,” Fin told her. “And when a man commands respect, others listen to him. If he doesn’t, they don’t.”
“Why younger sons, then?” To Ivor, she added quickly, “In troth, sir, I’d think that James would command respect more easily because he will inherit Rothiemurchus. He might even inherit the captaincy of Clan Chattan.”
“Aye, sure,” Ivor said. “But Traill prefers to teach men more likely to go into the world. Sithee, lass, although some eldest sons do achieve knighthood, all who survive long enough eventually have to tend to their estates and their people.”
“Bishop Traill told us much of this over the years,” Fin said. “He also seeks lads who are less likely than eldest sons to be thoroughly steeped in their clan’s rivalries. The reason that your brother and I did not know each other’s names is that as soon as we arrived at St. Andrews, we received our student names—”
“Hawk and Lion,” she said, remembering that Ivor had called him Lion.
“Aye,” Fin said. “And the others had similar ones. We had to swear by our honor not to seek information about other students, their clans, or their homes. Our world whilst we lived at St. Andrews had to be St. Andrews, because we came from all over Scotland and his reverence did not want clan war to erupt at the castle.”
“I fear that I would have tried to find out, anyway,” Catriona said.
Fin’s smile warmed her. “The bishop made it a matter of honor, my lady, and all of us yearned to seek knighthood. We knew that if we sacrificed our honor to satisfy mere curiosity, that goal would fly beyond our grasp. Traill also believes in chivalry. And he had a strong right arm with a switch or a tawse.”
“So you and Ivor have not seen each other since then, until now?”
The two men looked at each other.
“You have!” she exclaimed. “Did you not learn each other’s names then?”
Understanding from Ivor’s expressionless face that he’d leave it to him to answer that question, Fin said, “We have seen each other once since then. But only once and in circumstances that allowed for only brief conversation.”
She met his gaze and seemed to study him for a long moment before she said, “You are not going to tell me more than that, are you?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Your brother and I must talk more before we do.”
“So, despite all our talks together, you still do not trust me to keep silent.”
He hesitated and, by the look on her face, knew that he had hesitated too long. A glance at Hawk… Ivor… told him that he would get no help there, so Fin caught and held Catriona’s gaze as he said, “I told you that I would reveal what I could, and I have done that. By my troth, although there is more to tell, my not telling you has little to do with my trust in you and much to do with the fact that we do not yet know whether the information may endanger you or even ourselves.”
“But—”
“That will do, Cat,” Hawk said. “You have known the man for little more than a sennight, so you cannot expect him to trust you all in all. Such trust does not bloom so quickly but must grow over time. Moreover, if you expect him to trust you, you need to exert yourself first to trust him. Think, lass! This matter is one about which he—and I, too—know much more than you do. If we tell you that it may be dangerous for you to know too much, you should trust us.”
Fin could tell that she was reluctant to accept Hawk’s argument. So, when she shifted her gaze to himself, he met it and held it until she quirked her mouth wryly and sighed. He knew then that she would yield.
Tempted as he was to promise that he would tell her everything as soon as he could, he would not do so without knowing that he could keep that promise. He would talk to her later, more privately, and if she wanted to fratch with him then, she could. He could tell from Ivor’s expression that he would not extend the discussion to soothe her temper and that Ivor still had more to say to him.
The silence lengthened for another beat or two before Ivor said lightly, “I could tell you some fine tales about Fin’s days at St. Andrews, Cat. But I fear that he may have worse ones to tell about me.”
She smiled then. “I’ll coax those tales out of both of you one day.”
“Aye, sure, you will,” he said. “For now, though, you must leave us to our talk. We do thank you for the wine, although I have a strong suspicion that it was your own notion and not Grandame’s to bring it to us.”
Chuckling, she bade them both goodnight and left the chamber.
Ivor said, “Don’t imagine that you are going anywhere, my lad.”
“I don’t,” Fin said, holding out his goblet. “But I want more wine.”
Ivor refilled both goblets, saying, “It occurs to me that I still don’t know exactly who you are. Don’t you think that it’s time you told me?”
“I do, aye,” Fin said, as several ways of saying it flashed through his mind. Opting for bluntness, he said, “My father was Teàrlach MacGillony.”
“The king of archers, who died at Perth. He must be the man by whom you were kneeling when I saw you. I wasn’t sure then that it was you, not until you stood up. So you are a full Cameron then and not from one of the minor tribes. Have you revealed that interesting fact to my grandfather?”
“I didn’t have to. He said that I look just like my father and took me severely to task for telling Lady Annis that his name was Teàrlach MacGill. Said my da would have clouted me good for saying such a thing. He would have, too.”
“That was a terrible day, that battle at Perth,” Ivor said soberly. “We’re going to have to make a clean breast of it to them, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Fin asked, hopi
ng that his own deeper thoughts about vengeance and sacred oaths had not revealed themselves. “Did you not—?”
“I fear that I was not entirely truthful afterward with my father and others of Clan Chattan, and James was not there. He wields a sword skillfully, but he has not won his knighthood. And, as you will recall, the royal command was for thirty champions on each side that day.”
“So you are a better swordsman than James. That does not surprise me, Hawk. You are more skilled than most, albeit not as skilled as you are with a bow.”
“Not skilled enough with a sword to defeat you, Lion. Sakes, though, I expect that we’d better start calling each other Fin and Ivor now.”
“What did you tell your people?”
“After you dove in, Father asked what you had said to me. That was easy enough, since neither of us had said much of consequence.”
“I said your name,” Fin told him. “I don’t recall what I said after that.” Then he did remember more. “I said that they’d flay you, but you told me you’d be a hero. Not until afterward did I realize that you had meant that they would call me coward. And so I was, I expect. But I could not fight you.”
“Don’t be daft, man. Would you have gone into that river had I not urged you to go? And don’t pretend that I did not. You heard and understood me plainly.”
“Did I? I doubt that I was thinking at all by then.”
“Would you say to my face that I had nowt to do with your departure?”
Fin shook his head. “You know I won’t do that. But neither do I agree that you should tell them that it was your idea. I made the choice, my friend.”
“Are we still friends then? Nowt has changed?”
“As far as I am concerned, you and I are still as close as brothers. Sakes, I feel closer to you than I ever felt to Ewan.” Memory of the vengeance that he had sworn to claim stirred then so harshly that it was all he could do not to wince in response to it. But how could he ever kill his best friend’s father, Catriona’s father? He heard her voice then in his mind: “Life is always more important than death,” she had said. “An honorable man cannot kill to protect his honor.”