Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I suppose we best be getting home before we find the rest of their graves. I care not to know they are all dead.”
“They surely must be – ‘Twas five hundred years ago.”
“I know,” Sarah said as they walked back into the glen. “But the book has brought them all back to life.”
“Indeed it has.” As soon as they got back to the men, McKenna said, “I long to go home so we can keep readin’.”
Alistair laughed, “If we can get the book away from Jessie.”
Sarah tried to look shocked, “Our own, sweet, never does anything wrong Cook Jessie? I cannot think what you mean.”
IN THE MANOR, JESSIE had already made herself a cup of tea, and was curled up in a chair in her room with the book open:
“Disturbed by what he suspected and Elena confirmed, after he finished telling the story of Anna and Kevin to Master Balric, Michael went to his favorite spot atop the outer wall to consider what to do. While he knew not which men Grizel had enticed, he feared what might happen if she were not set down for it. Yet he had no proof. The answer of course, was to ask Kester, and he was about to do that when Grizel discovered his hiding place.”
CHAPTER 8
MACGREAGOR GLEN, 1371
“What are you doin’ here?” Michael asked. Her smile sickened him.
“I came to see you.”
“Are you in need?” he asked without standing up or offering to let her sit down.
“I am in need of your good company.”
Being harsh was not in his nature, so he lowered his eyes, and searched for something pleasant to say. “I prefer not to be disturbed just now.”
“When do you prefer to be disturbed?” she practically purred.
Apparently, pleasantness would not work on Grizel. “I prefer not to be disturbed by you at all.”
“Michael, you are bein’ unkind.”
“Am I?” He slowly stood up and let his large stature cast his shadow on her. “I dinna care for the rumors I hear in your regard.”
“What rumors? I assure you, whatever you have heard cannae be the truth. I have done nothin’ wrong.”
She looked so sincere he almost believed her. “I...”
“Tell me, who has falsely accused me? Oh, let me guess. ‘Tis Elena. Michael can you not see she hopes to marry you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“A lass always knows when another lass wants the lad she desires. Elena is not right for you, Michael, but I...”
Before she could brazenly touch the side of his face, he grabbed her wrist. “Say no more. ‘Tis not what I care to hear.”
“Are you quite certain?” she cooed. “I can...”
“As I said before, I wish to be alone.”
At last, Grizel accepted her defeat and looked away. “As you wish.” Reluctantly, she turned and started down the stairs.
Michael listened until he heard the last of her footsteps and then took a forgotten breath. He hoped that was the last of her unwanted intrusions, but he was wrong.
That night, he was sound asleep when he felt someone pull his bed covers back. Alarmed, he bolted out of bed and instinctively reached for his sword. He was about to thrust his blade when he realized who it was. “What are you doin’?”
Grizel smiled, “I have come to make you happy.”
Michael set his sword down, reached for a cloth, wrapped it around his waist, and quickly tied it. “You cannae stay.” He went to the door, opened it, and then pointed into the hallway. “Be gone with you!”
“You dinna mean that, Michael,” she tried, but when the moonlight shining through his window exposed the fire of anger in his eyes, she knew he was serious. Suddenly in fear of him, she skirted past him and stepped into the hallway – only to come face to face with Master Balric.
“You best not accuse him of anything,” Balric whispered, “for I was witness to you going in.”
She defiantly shrugged as if his words meant nothing, and fled down the hallway. She opened the door to her bedchamber, went in, and closed it behind her.
After she was gone, Balric raised an eyebrow and asked, “Where do you suppose she left her clothes?”
At last, Michael smiled. “Not in here, I assure you.” He started to close the door and then said. “I thank you. You have saved me from a marriage I dinna want.”
“Did I not tell you to quickly marry another?”
“Aye, you did, but I dinna think I would need to do it this quickly.”
The voices woke Elena, so she got up, and peeked into the hallway just in time to see Michael’s door close. “Is something amiss?”
“Nay, sister,” Balric said as he quickly went to her. “Go back to bed.” Relieved, she did as he suggested.
Inside his room, Michael set a chair in front of his door so it would wake him if she came back. Yet, he could not go back to sleep and for a long time, he lay in his bed thinking. It was not about Grizel he thought, but about Elena and how fond he was becoming of her. She was kind to Lindsey and to Kester, loved the children, and even took a moment to scratch Birdie under the chin, something Kester’s dog could never get enough of. Elena was exactly what he needed in a wife. Yet, she gave no indication that she was attracted to him. Only once since she arrived, had she sought him out and that was to – just now he couldn’t remember why she had come to see him.
Even so, he often knew where she was and when he wasn’t certain he went to look for her on one pretext or another. It made him feel rather silly and childish, but there it was. He was falling in love, and not a moment too soon, for if Balric was right, Grizel was indeed setting a trap.
WITH A LOT ON HIS MIND, Michael set out early the next morning to find Kester. It was never an easy task, for no telling where she was off to that time of day. He walked to her cottage first and found Lindsey happily working her pottery as usual. He failed to notice that Murran had not yet lit the fire in her pit. At the river, several of the women were getting an early start on their washing, but Kester was not there either. Next, he started walking the paths and still she was nowhere to be found. At last, he spotted her coming out of the forest.
“‘Tis not easy finding you of a mornin’,” he said.
Kester pointed toward the path into the forest. “‘Tis because you dinna come to say your prayers yet this day.”
“I see. Would you care to show me so I can find you next time?” She nodded and then led the way back. Birdie looked especially tired, so Michael leaned down, picked the dog up, and carried him. As soon as they arrived, he set the dog down again and folded his arms. “There is gossip in the village – gossip I find disturbin’.”
“About me?” Kester asked.
“Nay, about Grizel.”
“Ah,” was all Kester seemed willing to say.
“Are you not goin’ to tell me?”
“Depends?”
“On what?” Michael asked.
“On what you want to know?”
“I hear she entices the lads. I wish to know which lads.”
Kester looked him in the eye and then looked away. “I dinna like to say.”
“I see. When did this astoundin’ change in your love of tellin’ all you know come about?”
She tipped her head to one side and then slowly to the other. “Michael, I dinna see with my own eyes.”
“But you suspect somethin’?”
“I was here sayin’ my prayers when a lass giggled. I saw the lad, but not the lass.”
“And he was?”
“Owen.”
“Owen.” Michael considered that for a moment. “And you dinna see the lass?”
“Nay, she was too short. I only saw Owen because he be taller than the bushes.”
“But you suspect who she was, am I right?”
Kester drew in a deep breath. “Later, Grizel had leaves in the back of her hair.”
Michael nodded, “I see.”
“What do you mean to do?”
Kester scoffed. “Never has, not as long as I’ve known him, and I’ve known him all his life.”
“Well, at least he is not married.”
Kester watched Michael walk toward the loch and then sat down to rest a spell. Birdie was getting more and more tired each day, and she supposed she should stay home more for the dog’s sake. Unfortunately, he was too big for her to carry. Just then, she had an idea. Suppose she had a cart to pull the dog in, and who better to build it than Murran?
MURRAN WAS ALWAYS UP at the crack of dawn, so Kester thought nothing of knocking on his door. Normally it was closed tight, but this time it was ajar and swung wide open. There before her very own eyes stood Murran with his lips firmly planted on those of the very woman he should not have been kissing – Grizel.
Shocked, Kester caught her breath. Neither of them noticed her, so she thought to just simply walk away. However, when she turned around, Owen was right behind her gawking at the same unthinkable sight she had just seen. She watched in horror as Owen began to tightly set his jaw and narrow his eyes. Kester knew she could not prevent it if Owen decided to plow right through her, but as hard as she tried, she could not make her body move out of the way.
Just in time, Birdie abruptly sat up and began to bark. Owen glanced down at the dog, noticed Kester, and then looked back at the embracing couple inside Murran’s cottage. With tightened fists and flexed chest muscles, he made a guttural sound that even Kester knew meant war, and then walked away. She quickly glanced into the cottage to see what Murran would do, but he had not made a move and still stood staring after Owen. Grizel, on the other hand, met Kester’s dismayed expression with a grin. Completely uncaring, Grizel nonchalantly walked out the door and headed for the castle.
Murran said nothing as he stepped out, closed his door, and headed off to collect the peat and wood for Lindsey’s fire.
By then, several others had seen her leaving Murran’s cottage and it wouldn’t be long before the entire clan would know. Fearing they would fight, Kester knew not what to do. She turned to look up the path at the castle, but that was the direction Owen had gone, and if he was arming himself and coming back, she certainly did not want to be in his way. Instead, she went to see if she could find Michael.
“YOU ARE LATE AGAIN,” Lindsey said when Murran finally arrived to ignite her fire. His hair was uncommonly unkempt and his face appeared ashen. “Are you unwell?”
“Nay,” he grumbled in a much harsher tone than ever before.
Lindsey grimaced a little and decided to say nothing more. Everyone had a right to a foul mood once in a while, she supposed. Instead, she watched as he tossed extra peat and wood into her fire pit, added lantern oil, and then struck flint on steel in an effort to catch a small clump of peat on fire. It took three tries, but the instant the material caught fire and he tossed it into the pit, the flames shot high in the air. As she always did, she watched to see if any of the embers landed in the trees. There wasn’t much to worry about, since the tree branches were still heavy with the morning dew, but she kept a careful eye out just the same.
Murran spoke not a word, but instead of leaving right away he aimlessly stared into the fire pit. At length, he turned around, nodded to Lindsey, and then oddly smiled at her before he walked away.
If she hadn’t been in love with him before, his smile would have stolen her heart. Still captivated by the moment, she forgot Rory was coming too. When he arrived, the happiness in her expression served to encourage him. “You have finally accepted me?”
Lindsey took a deep breath, puffed her cheeks, and frowned.
“I suppose not,” Rory said. He picked up both her buckets and headed for the river. She needed more clay this morning, he noticed, so both buckets needed filling.
As soon as he was gone, her smile returned and the warm glow of love filled her cheeks. It was only then that she noticed Murran had forgotten to put the iron grating over the fire. She wasn’t concerned. Rory would be back soon and she could ask him to do it.
IN HIS SHOP ON THE bottom floor of the north tower, Owen sat staring at his sword. Still so enraged he could barely see, his astonishment soon turned to thoughts of revenge. Clearly – Murran had tempted Grizel away from him. He had not yet built the work fire in his small hearth and he did not care. Nor did he care about his forks, what his clan would think if he killed Murran, or even if his laird would banish him. All he cared about was what he saw.
When Grizel appeared in his open doorway, he calmly got up and closed the door in her face. He too had taken the oath to uphold the MacGreagor edict, as all the lads did, so taking his fury out on her would not do. He could deal with her later.
Unbothered, Grizel left the castle, and went to visit Lindsey.
THE WATER IN THE LOCH was cold that time of day, but Michael enjoyed going for a swim just as his father and his grandfather had. The only problem was, the cold water made his foot hurt and his limp more pronounced. After he got out, he picked up his shoes and his shirt, and headed home.
As he walked up one path, Kester walked down another.
Owen had not yet done anything, and Kester was getting more and more alarmed about the possibility they would fight. In her lifetime, she had seen three such challenges among powerful MacGreagor men and none of them turned out well in her estimation. She walked another path and then another without finding Michael. Near exhaustion, she decided just to chance getting run over by Owen, go to the castle, and wait until Michael came back.
“Is he within?” she asked the guard when she reached the outer doors.
“Aye.”
Relieved, she entered and then gave Birdie a command she had never given the dog before. “Go lay down.” She watched as the dog went to the wall, lay down, and rested his head on his front paws. Instead of being upset, the dog’s eyes drooped and soon he was fast asleep.
“Dinna die afore me,” Kester whispered as she walked across the inner courtyard and entered the castle. She crossed the foyer, turned to her right and knocked on the door of the Great Hall. Without waiting, she opened the door, entered and went to where Michael was sitting at the head of the long table. “Owen happened upon Grizel as she was kissing Murran,” she blurted out.
“This early in the morn?” he gasped as he stood up.
Kester pulled a chair away from the table and sat her weary bones down. “Looked to me like she stayed the night in Murran’s cottage.”
“Do you know where Murran is?”
“Buildin’ Lindsey’s fire, most likely.”
“And Owen?”
“He came here, and I’ve not seen him since. He be a might furious and I’ll not be surprised if they fight over her. I knew the very day she came, that Red would be...” Before Kester got that much out of her mouth, Michael was gone. She thoughtfully rubbed her chin for a moment. She had absolutely no interest in watching a fight, and she might have stayed right where she was, had she not left the dog in the courtyard. Begrudgingly, Kester got up and left the Great Hall.
FIRST, MICHAEL CHECKED Owen’s workshop. Owen was not there and neither was his sword. Still slightly limping, he went to see if Murran had finished building Lindsey’s fire. From the second floor of the tower, he could see smoke rising out of her pit, and assumed Murran was no longer there. Next, he looked to see if men were gathering in the place where they held their daily warrior training. Three men were already there, and although he couldn’t tell who they were, he could see two more men heading that direction.
He hurried back down the stairs, raced across the inner courtyard, and then ran down the road in the middle of the glen. As he suspected, more men were gathering and Rory was bravely trying to talk Owen out of running his sword through an unarmed Murran.
“Fight me,” Owen shouted. With sword in hand, his hot glare was enough to keep even Michael at bay. Some of the women were gat
hering as well, but most were just getting their children out of sight.
“Nay,” said Murran. “I shall not fight you.”
“Owen,” Michael tried.
“Stay back, Michael,” Owen commanded. He held his flexed arms away from his body, set his feet in the fight position, and held his sword straight up as if to strike the first blow. Again he shouted, only louder this time. “Fight me!”
“He is unarmed,” said Michael. “Kill him, and I shall have to kill you.”
“I care not!” Owen screamed. “He must pay for what he has done. I shall see him in...”
“Shall a friend kill a friend over a lass?” Michael argued. “Tis not worth it.”
Owen was not listening and still more men were running into the glen to watch.
GRIZEL SEEMED A LITTLE out of breath when she arrived, straightened her clothes, and then sat on the tree stump. Lindsey assumed her friend had just gotten out of bed, but she thought to ask anyway, as she added more water to her clay and began to mix it with her hands. “Are you unwell?”
“I am very well.” At the sound of one man shouting and then another, both Grizel and Lindsey turned to look up the path.
“What do you suppose is happenin’?” Not a moment later, two women hurried several children down the path to the river.
“Murran and Owen mean to fight,” one of the women said as she passed by.
“Murran?” Lindsey gasped. “For what cause do they fight?” The woman had turned her children up the path alongside the river and was already too far away to hear. Lindsey heard two more shouts, and thought to go see what was happening, but Grizel shook her head. “You best not go.”
“But, ‘tis Murran. Why would Owen fight Murran?”
“They fight over me, I suppose.” Grizel casually answered, as she brushed a loose thread off her skirt.
“Over you?” For a long moment, Lindsey tried to understand what that meant. “Do you mean Murran fights to...to marry you?”
Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 14