by Fiona Faris
James considered his words. “I will call for the oath takin’, but that is as much as I can promise.”
Chapter Four
James decided to adhere to William’s advice and called for an oath taking to take place at Knock Castle. All MacDonald’s who wished to be protected under his lairdship were to swear their fealty to him. Those who refused would not be allowed to remain. As soon as he returned to the castle, he sent word to the steward to prepare for the gathering. William, as James’ Keeper, was in charge of seeing to his and the castle’s safety and security at all times, but especially with an undertaking such as a gathering. Extra guards, loyal only to him, would need to be placed around the castle, as all of the clan’s most important members would be inside of the castle walls together at one time. Such a gathering left them open to attack, and James would not risk their safety at a time when Englishmen could arrive on their shores at any moment.
The moment he uttered the words to the castle steward, the hall and kitchens came alive. The marshal of the stables was issued missives to be delivered by the groomsmen to the appropriate clansmen the length and breadth of Skye. Only those MacDonalds loyal to Knock Castle were required to swear an oath, those belonging to other chieftains upon the island were left alone. The days when there was but one Lord of the Isles had long passed, having been taken from the MacDonald’s by King James IV of Scotland in 1493, two hundred years before. MacDonald lairds had since tried many times to gain it back through warfare and rebellion; however, they had never gained back the title. Some chieftains, whispered about over the years among the Clan MacDonald itself, were not willing to let the title go completely, his father being one of them, but James had no such aspirations. He simply wished to care for his people as best as he could.
A pit of dread lodged in his stomach as he thought of what might happen should any of his clansmen refuse to swear the oath. He very much doubted that such would be permitted to live were William to have his say in the matter. “This had better be worth it,” he murmured to himself as he sat down in his seat upon the dais to break the fast.
“It will be,” William remarked, taking his seat beside him.
“And what of those who refuse to take the oath, should there be any?”
“Cut them down where they stand.” William punctuated his words by driving his sgian dubh into the wooden surface of the table. “There can be nae abidin’ traitors if we are tae survive this. As ye are always remindin’ me, the fate of three clans depends upon it.”
“Aye, that it does. I dinnae ken what the future holds for any o’ us, but such folly will not come tae pass if I have any say in the matter at all,” James vowed, his chest burning with a protective fire. “I will nae allow me faither’s foul deeds tae be the end o’ us all.”
William nodded his head firmly then turned to bury his face in his food. The kitchen had prepared parritch sweetened with honey. James joined in and took comfort from its soothing warmth. There are some things in life that are constant, things that ye can depend upon tae be there, good and true, nae more or nae less than what they seem. Parritch is one o’ those things. As he sat eating, James studied the faces of the people lining the long wooden tables that stretched out before him. Me clan… Me family… and yet somewhere among them all sits me enemy. The thought was as heartbreaking as it was disconcerting. But who?
After breakfast, James set to aiding in preparing the castle and its tenants for another storm. Clouds had begun to gather on the horizon, heralding its eventual arrival, and he wished to limit the damage as much as possible. They had been fortunate not to lose too much during the last storm, but one never knew. When you lived on an island, it was best to always be prepared for the worst. Once he had done all he could to protect his people at the castle, James walked back to help Samuel with his croft and to look in on the Sassenach lass.
When he arrived, he found her sleeping. “The poor wee lass,” Samuel remarked when he saw James watching her. “She has been through a great deal o’ difficulty.”
“Aye, that she has. Any new memories?” he asked. He knew the question was becoming intolerably redundant, but he had to ask for the safety of all concerned.
“Nae, she has nae said so. Give her time, me laird. All hope is nae lost yet.”
“Aye, as long as the English remain at bay.” The strain of worry and lack of sleep was beginning to get to him, between the blackmailers and the dead Englishmen who had washed up on their shores.
“Aye,” Samuel agreed, frowning. He looked over at his much beloved wife stirring pottage over the fire and tears of concern sprang to his eyes. It was clear that he was thinking of what the English soldiers had done to her. “They cannae come here,” he whispered.
“Nae, they cannae, but if they do, I will do all in me power tae see ye both are safe. Ye can take me boat and go tae the Isle o’ Jura. I ken that Marra’s people would be glad tae take ye in for a time until the danger is past.”
“Aye, we thank ye, Laird. Long ago I swore tae her that she would ne’er need tae lay eyes upon another English soldier for as long as she lived, if I could keep her from it. Thus far I have kept that promise. ‘Twas nae easy, mind, with all o’ those dead Sassenach’s landin’ just o’er the hill there, but we managed it.”
“Yer a good man, Samuel.” James laid an affectionate hand on the older man’s shoulder. It was much more frail than he remembered, and it saddened him to think that one day, not too long in the future, Samuel and Agnes would no longer be with them.
“As are ye, me laird. ‘Tis good tae have a man such as ye in charge o’ things.”
“I thank ye, Samuel.” James smiled at the compliment. It meant a lot to him that Samuel thought well of him. Samuel had never cared for the former laird, and now James understood why. He had considered confiding in Samuel the issue of the blackmailers and the true cause of the former laird’s death, but had decided it was not kind to needlessly burden him with such. The only good it would do was give James another ally with whom to share the struggle. He knew that if Samuel had heard anything traitorous from his fellow clansmen that he would have told James immediately.
James sat down in the chair beside the bed and felt Elizabeth’s forehead. It was devoid of fever. Sighing in relief, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment to rest them. He had no intentions of sleeping, but he just needed a moment. The next thing he knew, James was awakened from a deep slumber by the sounds of a woman screaming.
“Elizabeth!” he jolted upright in the chair and leapt to his feet, his dirk in hand ready to take on whatever enemy had managed to breach the croft walls. He found no threat. It was just another of the Sassenach lassie’s dreams. Reaching down he smoothed the tears from her cheeks. “Hush now, lass. Dinnae fash, ‘tis but a dream.”
“I am sorry for causing alarm,” she whispered looking up at him, her blue eyes limpid pools of sorrow, fear, and confusion.
“’Tis tae be expected after all ye have been through. Was it the same dream as before?”
She shook her head but stopped short, closing her eyes in pain. “I was standing on the deck of a ship, when a large storm blew in overhead. The ship was tossed by the sea so fiercely that I was forced to seek refuge below decks. I do not know why I was on the ship, or if anyone else was with me. The next thing I knew the ship was splitting in two and the mast was careening straight for me.” She shivered in memory of the pain and fear. “Then all went black.”
James laid a reassuring hand upon hers. “Each time that ye remember somethin’ new, ye are that much closer tae discoverin’ who ye are and where ye belong. I ken that it is difficult tae relive these terrible moments from yer past, but they hold within their depths the key tae yer future.”
“Yes, they do,” she answered sadly.
Their attention was turned to Agnes as she brought them over each a bowl of pottage. James helped Elizabeth to sit up so that she might attempt to feed herself. They sat and ate together in silence for a
time, exchanging the occasional inquisitive glance. James wondered what it must be like not to remember who you were, to have one’s mind be naught but a tabula rasa. He supposed hers was not entirely so as she did remember her given name and the fact that her mother was dead by some nefarious means. Even in her weakened, wounded state, she was beautiful to behold. He imagined her when she had been in her full glory before the shipwreck and could not fathom her being anything but resplendent.
Someone, somewhere, must be missing her. A family? A husband? A lover? James was not sure why, but that last thought caused a twinge inside his chest. Shaking it off, he finished his bowl of pottage and returned it to Agnes. Rising he thanked his hosts, then turned and bid Elizabeth farewell. As he left the croft, he caught her studying him, a strange look in her eyes. He turned back to look her full in the face, allowing her the opportunity to speak her mind, but instead she looked away and slipped back down beneath the covers of the bed. Shrugging, James left the croft and headed back toward the castle. There was still much to be done to prepare for the coming gathering.
* * *
Elizabeth sat quietly upon the bed, thinking about the newest dream she had had and the laird’s reaction to it. He wishes to be rid of me at the earliest opportunity, she noted to herself. She was not sure why the thought disappointed her so, but it did. I can tell that he is hiding something, but I know not what. He looks as if he has the cares of the world upon his shoulders. He is as the Greek god Atlas condemned to carry the weight of the celestial heavens upon his shoulders for all eternity. Elizabeth startled at the thought. How do I remember Greek mythology, yet I do not remember my own surname? A fleeting moment of bitter anger overtook her, but she managed to push it away and instead focused on seeing what else she could remember. As James had said, any memory, no matter how frivolous, could hold the key to unlocking her identity.
Elizabeth considered stopping him from walking out of the door and telling him of her newest revelation; but decided against it as it had been her thoughts of him that had triggered it, and she did not wish to explain that part to him or that she had been studying his physical appearance. Slipping down beneath the covers, she hid her flustered state. Warm, her stomach full of pottage, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Her last thoughts were of the sorrow she had seen in the depths of his eyes.
What secrets do you hide that bring you such pain, James Alexander MacDonald? As she surrendered to her body’s need for sleep, she vowed to uncover his secrets, for if she could not do so how could she possibly trust him with her life. Every man has his secrets, but the ones that haunt the Laird of Knock Castle are dark indeed to have caused him such pain; darkness akin to my own.
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Fiona Faris is an American author of authentic historical Medieval & Scottish romance books. She started writing historical highlander romance after she visited the Scottish Highlands years ago with her husband.
Her books have received startling reviews about the humor, the darkness and the romance they have.
She lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband and their two sons. Before she started writing romance, she experienced the various occupations: translator, dog-training, and a substitute English teacher for the most part of her life... However, nothing could ever compare to writing stories depicting the majestic and mysterious Scottish Highlands!
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