Beloved Ruins, Book 1

by Marti Talbott

  “Have you met him?” Kester asked Meghan. “I hear he has the reddest of hair and curly too. Does he wear his crown daily, and...”

  Meghan put her hand over Kester’s. “My dear, you have no idea of the splendor our new king and his queen bring to Scotland. Aye, he wears a crown and both wear robes of a different color for every occasion. I quite admire the Queen’s gowns.”

  “And the queen – is she handsome?” Kester wanted to know.

  “Very.”

  “She is his second wife, you are aware,” Seona muttered.

  “I am certain everyone knows that,” Meghan said.

  “The first was Elizabeth Mure, whom he married twice,” Seona went on anyway. “Father suspected the king dinna get sufficient dispensation from the Pope the first time and was advised to marry her again. ‘Twas quite the scandal, but how else was the king to claim his children after livin’ so openly with a lass not his wife.” Seona stopped to take a bite. She saw not the irony of her situation compared to the king’s, and was surprised by the silence in the room after she stopped talking. “What?”

  Laird Ferguson found no reason to acknowledge her either. “Unfortunately, the king means to halt trade with the English.”

  “By what reasonin’ does he do that?” Michael asked.

  “He intends to trade with the French instead,” Ferguson answered.

  Seona dropped her spoon in her bowl. “So that is why my father tried to marry me to the Marquis. I should have guessed.”

  Again, everyone ignored her.

  “You were tellin’ of the Queen,” Kester said to Meghan.

  “Indeed I was. Never have I imagined such glorious gowns and the jewels she wears are simply magnificent. She has seven ladies-in-waitin’ that see to her every detail, and I dare say, it takes three of them just to care for her gowns. From what I hear, our queen is far more elegant than the queen of England ever could be.”

  “I have been meanin’ to come see you,” Michael said to Swinton once the conversation appeared to be ended between Kester and Meghan. “Our lads think to build a shop on the road that leads to Edinburgh.”

  “What sort of shop?”

  “‘Tis to save ourselves the trouble of takin’ our wares to market. The lads shall have pens for piglets and lambs and inside fruits and vegetables in season, together with wares such as leather belts and forks to barter or sell. While it shall be on MacGreagor land, I see no reason your lads cannae sell there as well.”

  “You mean to let us have a space there? At what price?”

  Michael nodded. “We have yet to make out the details. The shop is only just begun, but I see no reason we cannae bicker the price when the time comes.”

  “Very well, I shall ask if my lads are interested. There are advantages to sellin’ in a market full of buyers, you are aware.”

  “Aye, but ‘tis only once a week,” said Ferguson. “I too can see the need for a shop that sells all week through.”

  “When shall it be finished?” Swinton asked.

  Michael chuckled. “‘Tis a matter of agreein’ how to build it, and so far the lads have yet to do so. Meanwhile, they build a bridge over the river.”

  Kester had a new reason to glare at Seona. “It shall be called Lindsey’s Bridge.”

  Seona picked her spoon back up and directed her response to Laird Ferguson. “I am accused of all manner of witchery, you see, none of which is true. Now, if you were to ask if I have been treated well durin’ my stay, I should have to say quite the opposite. The lady-in-waitin’ I have been given knows not how to do a thing properly. She...”

  “My dear Seona,” Balric interrupted. “I’ll not have you belittle Beitris. Never have I met a more agreeable lass. Not once does she complain and from what I have seen, you give her ample cause to.”

  “There, you see,” Seona said pleading her case to Swinton. “Even in seein’ to my comfort they side against me.”

  “On this cause, I must take Seona’s side,” Elena surprisingly said. “Without Beitris’ help, which she refused to give this day complete, Seona’s hair does look a fright.”

  Seona stared at her opponent for a moment and then cast her eyes down in defeat. “How glad I shall be to leave this place.”

  “You are free to go whenever you wish,” said Michael.

  “Go where?” Seona asked with what appeared to be real tears in her eyes. “I cannae go home, and I have no place other to be until Osgar comes for me – if he ever does.”

  Before Seona spoiled their meal completely, Balric thought to change the subject. “I must go to town in search of more parchment tomorrow. Would anyone care to go with me?”

  “I would,” said Seona, “if you pledge to bring me back.”

  “In your case,” said Balric, “I must rescind the offer. Of course, if you wish me to take you home, I shall be more than pleased to accept the reward...if there truly is a reward, and not simply the meat of a foul rumor.”

  Seona wiped a tear off her cheek and then tried to smile at Balric, whom she considered the only one at all kind to her. “Aye, well ‘twould not be the first time my father has made an offer with no intention of upholdin’ it. He owes considerable compensation to Osgar still.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about Osgar,” said Balric.

  “He befriended my brother and I when we had not a friend, nor not even an acquaintance, in the world.”

  “After your mother, the lass that should have married me, died?” Swinton grumbled.

  Seona looked Swinton in the eye. “Mother said you should have fought harder to have her.”

  “She got precisely what she wanted,” Swinton shot back, “which was to marry the unspeakable wealth your father bragged of. Not once did she consider the price she would have to pay for it, nor I see, have you.”

  “What do you mean?” Seona asked.

  “You and your brother conspire to kill your father so you may enjoy his wealth. Foolishly, you dinna see how easily you would be found out. What then would be your reward – a hangin’ perhaps, or a burnin’ at the stake?”

  It was Seona’s turn to gasp. “We would not have been found out save for you.”

  “And Osgar, for it was he who told me,” Swinton reminded her.

  Seona blinked a few times, shoved her plate away, got up, and left the room in another flood of tears.

  OUTSIDE, THE FEAST for their guests was a mishmash of dishes, hurriedly cooked, and laid out on tables for the enjoyment of the Ferguson and Swinton guards. The Swintons they liked, the Fergusons they were not yet sure of, but if it pleased Elena, they intended to try to like them. Naturally, there was a great deal of gossip to be had and the Fergusons had as much right to know what would likely happen as did the Swintons. At first, the MacGreagors told the Swintons and the Swintons told the Fergusons, but that soon proved laborious, and the three began to gather in small groups, each sharing what they knew about the Kennedys and the MacKintosh. Then, of course, there were stories to tell about Laird Dalldon and the heavy-handed manner in which he ruled his lands.

  Standing on the castle wall, the three lairds watched.

  Aye,” said Michael, “if need be they shall fight well together.”

  “Unless they are too drunk,” Ferguson added.

  Swinton chuckled. “I hear a battle suffers a drunken lad to quickly recover his wits.”

  Ferguson chuckled. “It would me.”

  “Hopefully, we shall not have to find out firsthand,” Michael muttered.

  Finished with their meal, the people in the courtyard below began to clear away the leftover food and take the tables away. Michael laughed when a clumsy dog began to chase a cunning cat that was well versed in all the best hiding places. Each time the cat managed to scurry under something, the dog lay down daring the cat to come back out.

  Once the tables were out of the way, three MacGreagor musicians brought their instruments and took up positions near the wall of the castle. The first placed his Rebec, a bo
at-shaped, two-string instrument on his forearm, and drew his bow across the strings to signal the beginning of Highland Fling. Soon, the flute player joined in, and the man with the tympanum added the beat of his drum.

  Thrilled with the selection, the MacGreagor men began to line up facing the crowd and for a moment, it appeared the other two clansmen would not join in. Yet, when the Swintons took up position facing the MacGreagors, the Fergusons happily joined their line. A dance of skill and agility, the Highland Fling required one hand in the air, the other on a hip, and hopping on alternating feet and landing within a small imaginary circle.

  Women were always allowed to join in. However on this occasion, what began as a friendly dance among men, appeared to be turning into something approaching a contest. The dancing went on and on, feet hopped, kilts bouncing, and the musicians might have stopped, but they too wanted to see which side would win. Yet, these were all well trained warriors who might possibly not give up for the better part of an hour. At the Rebec player’s nod, the drummer sped up his beat, the other musicians followed and soon, exhausted men began to fall away. At length, only four were left, two MacGreagors, a Ferguson and a Swinton. One MacGreagor began to hold his side as the drummer again increased the beat and he too fell away. Then there were only three.

  Still watching from atop the castle wall, Swinton clasped his hands together, “Care to place a wager, lads?”

  “Aye,” said Michael and Ferguson at the same time.

  “The loser hosts the next feast,” Swinton said. Not truly that interested in the outcome, Swinton turned his back to the fun below. “I must say I am quite relieved not to have to kill Dalldon. ‘Twas a foolhardy bargain I struck in a moment of weakness. I shall not let it happen again.” He quickly turned back when a great cheer rose up from the dancing below. The first of the three to fall out of the competition was the Ferguson. Not a moment later, and at nearly the same moment, the MacGreagor and then the Swinton gave up and crumbled to the ground, each gasping to catch their breaths. To that, the crowd moaned.

  “Incredible,” said Swinton, “my lad outlasted a MacGreagor.”

  “Aye, and sadly I lost the wager,” Ferguson added.

  Exhausted, the musicians took a few moments to fortify themselves with a hardy drink of ale while the men helped the last three dancers up.

  “I say we host the next together,” said Michael, playfully slapping Swinton on the back. He turned and started for the stairs. “Come lads, we must have our share in the dancing.”

  FERGUSON FOUND MEGHAN still talking to Elena in the dining hall, and took her hand. “Come with me wife.”

  Meghan giggled and kissed his cheek. “I was hopin’ you might ask Elena.”

  “Why did I not think of that?” said he. Ferguson let go of his wife’s hand and instead held his out to Elena. Before she took it, he turned back to his wife. “And who might you wish to dance with?”

  “I accept,” said Michael.

  “As do I,” said Swinton.

  Meghan giggled and headed out the door. “I shall be pleased to dance both of them under.”

  Elena took Ferguson’s hand, and glanced back at the other two. “She can do it too.”

  Just as Michael was about to leave, Beitris came in carrying Brenna. He took the child from Beitris, and felt Brenna’s forehead. “Are you well?”

  “Aye,” she said with a hint of a pout, “but my arm still hurts.”

  “Have you given your cat a name?” he asked to distract her.

  “I shall call him Towser, if you please.”

  “I do please. ‘Tis a very good name for a cat. Shall I take you to see the dancing?”

  Brenna’s pout immediately disappeared. “Aye, but I dinna know how to dance.”

  “‘Tis time you learn.” When Michael followed Swinton out the door and across the inner courtyard, there was an odd silence outside. Concerned, Michael went out the door, but remained on the top step where Elena also stood. No one seemed able to move. “What is it?” Michael whispered.

  Elena reached for her daughter. “I know not.”

  Michael stepped down and made his way through the crowed. To his horror, a MacGreagor had pulled his sword and stood in front of his daughter as if to protect her from the Ferguson.

  “I mean her no harm,” the Ferguson loudly protested.

  Michael was about to interfere when Laird Ferguson said, “Let them settle it. ‘Tis time.”

  Michael wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, but he stayed out of it just the same. The young MacGreagor woman, being shielded by her father, had other ideas. She thought the Ferguson handsome, walked around her father, took his hand, and pulled the Ferguson to the middle of the courtyard.

  Kester bellowed out, “‘Tis she who means to harm the Ferguson.”

  Everyone laughed and that settled it.

  This time, the musicians chose to play a Scottish reel, a slower, and more formal Strathspey dance that involved couples dancing in unison, often with two and then four. Delighted children shoved their faces where they could between the adult’s lower torsos, or begged to be perched high on broad shoulders so they could see. Swinton bowed to Meghan’s curtsey and together they joined the other couples.

  When Michael looked for Elena, Brenna had fallen fast asleep in her mother’s arms and the two of them were surrounded by Ferguson warriors, all wanting Elena to dance with them. Adam Ferguson relieved Elena of Brenna, and when she took the first Ferguson’s hand, Elena looked happier than Michael had seen her look in days. Unfortunately, her smile was still not for him. When Laird Ferguson handed him a goblet of ale, Michael drank it right down.

  Standing at the edge of the courtyard, Beitris tapped her foot to the music and clapped her hands. She had not noticed Balric coming, and when he put his hand on her hands to stop her, she assumed something was wrong.

  Said he, “I am in need of your company.”

  “What?” she asked.

  Balric sighed and leaned closer to her ear. “I have said that quite badly. What I mean is, I must go to Edinburgh tomorrow, and I am hopin’ you shall go with me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “For your good company, of course.” Her blank stare caused him to pause. For a time, he could think of nothing more to say. “Surely you dinna think I...”

  “I thought nothin’,” she interrupted. “But I cannae. I have much to do and we have yet another two guests to tend in the castle.”

  “Ah yes, I forgot about your duties. Another time, then?” She smiled to assure him she was not offended, and he was so relieved, he quickly wandered off. “I am not suited for this sort of thing,” he muttered.

  “What sort of thing?” Kester asked suddenly standing beside him. For once, Birdie was not at her feet. Instead, she left the dog in a safe place where no one would step on him.

  “My dear, I had not the slightest notion you could hear me,” Balric admitted.

  “I’ve the ears of an Eagle, always have had. Perhaps you might find a place for me to sit, since your attention is the only one I have managed to gain at the moment. He nodded, hurried off, and soon brought back a chair. He held it while she backed up and sat, and then went to get one for himself.

  As soon as he got seated, Kester asked, “Now, to what are you not well suited?”

  Balric took a deep breath and did his best to explain without blurting out his marriage intentions. Kester, he noticed, was not willing to accept his reasoning at face value and simply smiled and nodded. “Perhaps you might take it a bit more slowly, is all. Beitris is a good lass, but she is not used to the ways of love.”

  “More slowly? I suppose you must be right. Indeed, I must take it more slowly. How?”

  Kester grinned. “Perhaps a walk in the glen when all this foolishness is behind us?”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “I thought you might.”

  AS THE SUNSET BEGAN to fade, the MacGreagors lit torches and put them in holders around the edge of the courtyard
. There were whispers among both the Fergusons and the MacGreagors, for Michael had yet to take his eyes off the laughing Elena, as she danced with first one, then another and another Ferguson. Exhausted, when the next Ferguson attempted to cut in, Elena held up her hand and begged to rest.

  Michael saw the disaster coming but try as he might, he could not move fast enough to prevent it. The cat finally came out of hiding and the dog was not about to let it escape this time. Unfortunately, just as Elena began to turn around, the cat scurried past and in an attempt to avoid injuring the dog, Elena lost her balance and fell to the hard ground.

  A woman cried out, the music stopped and the dancers froze in place.

  Embarrassed, Elena quickly turned over and started to sit up. At the same moment, Michael knelt beside her and put his hand on her back. Upset, she laid her head on his shoulder and bit back a tear. It was not the perfect reason to be in his arms, but his touch made her close her eyes for a moment. Suddenly aware that everyone was standing over her, she straightened up. “I am fine,” she managed to say. “Can you not help me up?”

  He tried not to be alarmed, but the look in his eyes betrayed his concern. “Careful, lads,” he said as he nodded to three men. Strong arms from in front and behind soon had her standing, and each held on until they were certain she was not hurt and had her balance.

  “Dinna fuss so,” she said as she looked to see who helped. “I thank you, but you need not look so concerned. I am not hurt.” Her hand was still in his when she whispered, “Tell them to dance, Michael.” He nodded to the musicians, the dancers went back to dancing, and someone brought a chair for her to sit on.

  “Are you certain you are not hurt?” Michael asked as he helped her sit.

  She motioned for him to lean toward her and whispered, “If I am, Laird MacGreagor, ‘tis a place you are not allowed to look.” When he pulled back, she playfully rubbed her thigh.

  Michael chuckled. She was back to being friendly, and he was relieved. “Did you not hear what your brother said? Beitris never complains.”

  She returned his delighted smile. “Aye, and he was seen speakin’ to her just now. Perhaps you shall become a great matchmaker after all.”