by Fiona Faris
“Tis not all,” Sophia said, feeling empowered by his presence. “Fanny wanted me tae tell ye, she is nae so sure this is an illness. She believes this is the cause of a poisoning—specifically, she believes it may be belladonna poison which was given tae the clan some twenty years ago. Only some people were infected, and they recovered quickly, but no one caught the illness around them. Tis not like a usual close-quarters illness.”
In shock at this discovery, the councilmen began speaking all at once and turning to each other. Logan’s mouth hung open and he banged his fist on the table to gather everyone’s attention.
Logan stood then and cracked his knuckles, his shoulders going stiff. A muscle in his jaw trembled, but he seemed to get a grasp on his anger. He took a deep breath. “Tis all I needed tae hear. I knew there was someone trying tae sabotage our clan, our recovery,” he said through gritted teeth, staring at the table in front of him.
“Well, I am sad tae say, but t’as finally come tae this.” Logan rubbed his face with this hand. “We must prepare fer war at the soonest moment! I shan’t let anyone come intae me estate, poison my child, and think they can get away with it. Ye may sit, Sophia. Thank ye fer sharing this.”
Sophia said nothing and sat quickly. She could feel the tension in the room; the energy was changing around them.
The room was abuzz. People spoke out of turn. Some shouted, “Attack? We cannae handle an attack!” Others said something along the lines of, “We must protect our land!” and still others whispered things like, “How will we survive the winter with a war?”
Logan let the people have a few moments of sputtering comments to one another before he quieted them down again. “I will hear from ye all now, but ye must speak in order,” he said to the group.
One man with a cane stood and waved it at Logan. “Logan, ye cannae be serious. We are in no state tae go tae war. How will we survive?” Around the man, others agreed with him, nodding their heads or whispering like-minded statements.
“Lewis, what do ye want us tae do? What will it take tae make all of ye see that Dillon is behind all of this?” He gestured toward Sophia. “Even Fanny can understand that someone is trying tae harm us. If Fanny can see it, why cannae all of ye?”
Alrick stood as the room fell to a silence. “Logan is right. Ye need tae listen to him as Laird. He isnae jumpin’ tae conclusions. There are many things that point tae it bein Dillon.” He paused for a brief moment and gathered his courage. “I think we need tae do all we can tae prepare our men. We are doin’ well fer preparing fer winter, but if we keep letting others attack our clan, we will have no clan come wintertime!” He pounded his fist on the table.
“Thank ye, Alrick.” Logan looked around the room. “I know there are some of ye who dinnae believe in my leadership, but there are many of ye who do. Just at the last meeting, ye told me I was doin’ well. I need ye tae trust me. Tae believe in my leadership. I wouldnae do this if it wasn’t the only way to push Dillon off of us.” Many people around Logan agreed verbally and by nodding.
Sophia could see from where she was that Logan was torn up about the discovery. He might have been trying to hold it together, but she could see that he didn’t want to go to war. It just made sense. It was the only thing they could do to protect their clan and to stop the attacks at once. Sophia saw what made him a great leader—the understanding that he sometimes had to make tough decisions, even if people were hesitant to support him in those choices.
Chapter Eighteen
Logan woke the following morning and knew it was the day he would be going with Alrick to check the state of the fields. He prepared for the day and left his bedchamber. When he went to the kitchen for a roll and for a bowl of grains, he saw Mildred.
“How is Ava this mornin’?” he asked immediately. He intended to check on her upon finishing his meal, but knew that Mildred would have already peeked in on her.
“She is doin’ just fine. Back tae playing. Keeps askin’ me if she can make some healin’ mud.” Mildred sipped her tea and looked over at Logan with a smirk. “That Sophia really made an impression on her. She seems tae like her.”
Logan shoved the roll in his mouth and did not respond. He did not like his sister’s teasing, and especially now, given that she was teasing about a subject that was becoming more awkward for him by the moment.
“She is a good healer,” he finally said around a mouthful of bread. He did his best to finish off the grains before another conversation could be started. “I must go and try to see which men will be fit fer battle should we decide tae attack soon,” he said to Mildred as he stood.
Mildred nodded. “Logan, I agree with ye. We need tae fight off Dillon; just be wise about how ye do it. If ye see the men cannae fight, ye need tae be a good leader and decide on another course of action.” She tried to be gentle with him, but she needed him to understand all that was at stake. This was not a time to be prideful.
“Aye, I know. I will be careful and wise about my choice,” he said in response. While Logan had argued with the council members for their support in the matter, he also knew he would not agree to going into a battle if his warriors were not in any shape to be fighting. Today would give him insight into whether they could do it or not.
Logan left the kitchen and headed towards the stables, where Alrick would be waiting for him. They would head out to the fields as soon as he arrived. They would be able to see where they stood with planting the winter wheat, and he would have a chance to see how the stronger men were healing. Logan feared the worst.
* * *
Alrick and Logan rode out side by side towards the fields. Their horses sped over the curving green hills, dusted with only a few wild flowers and a plethora of fallen autumn leaves. When they arrived to the first fields, Logan was happily surprised. Before him, the burnt and charred ground had become fresh rich soil. He could smell the nutrients in it, and knew the farmers had been doing as they were asked—tending to it, watering it daily to moisten the burnt parts. He was proud of his men.
“Things are lookin’ good here, Alrick,” Logan said to his second-in-command. Alrick agreed.
Logan looked to the farmers who had come out to talk with him and update him on the state of the fields.
One young and strong-looking man spoke first, “We have been followin’ yer orders, and are sure the winter wheat can be planted right away. It was hard work, but we got the land ready fer it.” The man beamed with pride.
“Aye, I am mighty happy with yer work, and very appreciative. I will send over some meat fer ye and yer family tomorrow. We will begin planting the wheat vary soon.” Logan watched as the man walked away graciously, running to tell his wife about the gift from the Laird. Logan had hoped this man could be a good warrior, given how hard he had worked at the fields, but as the man walked off, Logan noticed he was still badly injured. He limped as he walked. Even if he had tended to the fields well, if he went to war on his bad leg, he would only lose his life the quicker.
Logan and Alrick went to view another farm, and were happy to see similar results there. The men were stable and healthy-looking on that farm as well. As Logan and Alrick moved from farm to farm, he found his mind keeping an inventory of all the men he might be able to use as warriors should he need to go to battle sooner than later.
The day passed in this way, with Logan expressing his gratitude towards the farmers and their hard work, gifting them small provisions, and promising to get to work planting in the fields soon. Their winter would not be difficult for a lack of food.
Before riding back to the keep, Logan turned to Alrick.
“We lost many good men tae the fires. I am worried we willnae have enough men tae mount an attack right now.” He shielded his eyes from the sun, which had risen fully in the sky.
Alrick agreed. “We have few men who are well enough right now, but I think ye have the right idea, Logan, which is why I supported ye in the meeting. Dinnae be discouraged, lad. We will get Dillon. We wi
ll put him in his place,” Alrick stated firmly.
The two rode back to the keep. Logan decided to turn his attention instead to the funerals which were taking place later that evening. With the help of Diana and Mildred, he still had many details to sort out. He knew this was important to his people, and especially to Sophia.
* * *
When he arrived back to the keep, Diana was ready to pounce on him.
“There ye are. We have much to prepare fer the feast tonight, and I have many questions fer ye. We need tae decide just what will be served and what we must remove from the cellar. We have only a bit of daylight left to prepare everything.”
Logan felt ambushed for a moment. He fumbled on his words, trying to find an answer. “Let’s put out some salted boar and cattle. Yes—take out some mead from the cellar; some wine and some ale as well. The people have had a rough time, and if we are honoring the ones who lost their lives, we shall honor them well. We have enough provisions to last us a good while, and the hunters and farmers are still at work. Let us make this a true feast.”
“Great, I will tell the staff immediately.” She rushed off without a second look back, and Logan was relieved to have taken care of that. He was sure he would need to answer other questions still.
The feast was the perfect remedy for some of the mourning and grief that had been weighing heavy on the people in the keep. Good food always helped to soothe a sorrowful soul. He wanted to show his people that those lives lost were a valuable part of his life as well. They would begin their mourning ritual right after dinner, to help move forward the souls of the lost ones. It pained him to have to put together such a grand burial ceremony. There were so many people who would be honored tonight, as the fires were one of the worst events in their recent history. This many lives had not been lost since the last time they had been at battle. This was worsened because these were not all warriors who had perished, but rather, a plethora of children, women, and elders. The clan had truly lost a piece of themselves in those fires.
Logan made his way to the great hall, where Mildred was already directing staff to organize and make space for the big feast.
“Logan, I am happy ye’re here. I have moved Fanny to one of the common rooms. She and the healers will be closer to our quarters now, but I thought it better not tae have the great meal where so many ill people have been. I’ve set the staff to cleaning and rearranging the furniture as well,” she said as soon as he approached.
Logan thought of the fact that now Sophia would spend her days closer to where he spent his own, and the thought brought a blush to his cheeks. He liked that he would likely run into her much more than he did now, but it also made him nervous to think that she would see him in the midst of all his chaotic daily duties.
“Good choice, Mildred,” he said after a few moments of silence. “Do ye know if we have everything prepared for the ritual outside?” he asked. This was, next to the feast, the next essential part of the ceremony. There would be a large bonfire, and he needed to make sure the land was ready for it.
“Aye, I’ve already had people set the stones in a circle so as tae not lose control of the flames. Seems so tragic, all the burning we will do after all the lives were lost to similar flames,” she said.
“Aye, but the fires are cleansing. Tis the rite we always do. It will help people heal; I am sure of it,” he said with a firm nod.
“Tis true,” she said finally. From the corner of his eye, Logan saw a small figure run to his side.
“Papa! Papa!” Ava leaped on him before he had a chance to stabilize himself.
“Ah, wee one, how are ye doin? Much better it seems?” he asked as he picked up Ava and set her on his hip.
“Yes, tis the healing muds. They work, Papa. I want tae make healing muds too,” she said, looking down at her lacy gown. Logan laughed, assuming she meant the poultice. “Do ye think the dragon lady will show me?” Ava asked.
“I think she may; we will have tae ask. Tis a very noble task, bein’ a healer,” he added. Mildred eyed him and smiled, but said nothing.
“Well, Ava, let’s get ye ready fer the feast, shall we?” Logan smiled at Mildred as he walked off with his daughter in his arms. They both had to prepare for the burial ceremony as well. It was bound to be a memorable event.
* * *
Mildred and Diana did a spectacular job to make sure the keep and the great hall were fully prepared for the burial ceremony. Logan was glad they were both tackling the majority of the tasks for the evening. He had never been great with organizing large feasts, aside from choosing the date and the meats that would be presented. He often forgot how much of a blessing it was to have two sisters by his side to help him with all of these duties now that he no longer had his wife.
As Logan thought about Isla he realized the loss was not weighing as heavily as it had been. Yes, he missed her, longed for her greatly, but he also felt a renewed sense of hope. As Mildred had said long ago, he knew Isla would want him to be happy. Maybe it was time he sought out that happiness elsewhere.
Logan stood in his bedchamber, adjusting his kilt. He knew it was a night to honor the lost souls, and thus, he needed to wear his battle kilt out of respect. He put his swords in their appropriate spots and went down the hall towards Ava’s room. Ava, too, was dressed in a respectful manner. Her gown was black, the color of mourning, and she had her hair pulled back in a twist of various braids. She looked so much like her mother in that moment, it pained Logan.
“Papa, do ye like my gown?” she asked, holding it out and spinning.
“Tis beautiful, Ava. Just like ye.” He picked her up, and the two went towards the great hall, where the feast was set to begin at any minute.
The great hall was lit with a collection of broad candles and fresh torches. There was more light in that room than there had been in a long time. Logan thanked each staff member he saw, a new practice of his. He was beginning to see that all around him were a thousand faces and sets of hands who aided in his success as Laird every day. Without them, he would not have been able to organize this burial ceremony. Originally, they had thought to do this closer to the fires, but with the suffering that followed the flames, and then the illness, they had to push it till a time when the people were ready. Tonight, they would be given their chance for closure.
The tables were set with all the meats, cheeses, and root vegetables anyone could eat. There was enough for everyone to have three or four plates full of food if they wanted. When Logan walked in with Ava in his arms, he found himself searching the room for one face in particular. Sophia stood at the end of one table, checking on one of her patients. Even in a time like this, she could not be distracted fully from her work.
He noticed first the way her hair was styled. Her wild curls were pulled away from her face, and only a few strands framed her soft cheekbones. Her wild green eyes were accentuated by the delicate emerald-colored gown she wore. Her cheeks held a soft rouge, and her lips looked pinker than usual. In the glow of the hundreds of candles, she was absolutely stunning. Logan could not control his eyes as they explored her body from across the great hall.
He must have been standing there like a fool for a short while, because Ava tucked on his shirt and said, “Papa, Papa, I’m hungry.”
He jumped to focus just as Sophia looked up from her conversation. She smiled at him and bit her lip as she looked away.
“Well, wee one, let’s get some food shall we?” He set Ava on the ground and walked her over to where he and his sisters usually sat. There, he sat Ava on the bench. He placed food on her plate in front of her, and the girl started eating immediately. Her appetite had steadily returned since her illness.
Logan stood for a moment and made his way over to Sophia as his sisters walked in and sat next to Ava.
He sat next to an open spot on the bench near her. “How are ye, lassie?” he asked.
“I am doin’ alright. I am very grateful ye and yer sisters have done this. It seems like the
best way to honor all those who were lost,” she said.
“Aye, tis an important thing fer us tae do; that and the ritual.”
“Tis true. I am ready to say goodbye tae my father. His spirit will always be with me, but tis time tae let his soul rest.” Her eyes welled with tears, but she fought them back.
She turned to the meal in front of her. “Everything looks delicious, and I cannae wait tae eat some of it.” Logan motioned towards her plate, as if to say eat away.
Before she began to fill her plate, Logan leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I know tis not the best time tae say this, but Sophia, ye look absolutely breathtaking.”
Sophia blushed and smiled. “Ye do as well. I especially like the kilt.” Then she bit her lip again, and Logan wanted to kiss her right then and there. But behind Sophia, just off in the distance, he caught sight of his sisters, who were practically gawking at the two of them. He rolled his eyes.
“I must make me rounds. But I will speak with ye later.”