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SPRING CAME EARLY THE year Tavan, Patrick and Callum turned eighteen. Each had grown as tall as their father who stood at six feet, four inches, yet none of them fully realized how big they were compared to the rest of Scotland’s men. Years of warrior training, made each of the triplets as strong as a man needed to be if he was expected to protect the clan, although that was not likely. All the men in the MacGreagor clan were large and visitors often remarked on their size, which served to make the other clans think twice about attacking.
Weeks of spring rain kept the ground too wet for the clan’s normal outside activities, and everyone was joyful when two full days of bright sunshine dried the glen enough for them to take their beloved walks. Children challenged each other to a race, toddlers played on the curve of a huge whalebone sticking out of the ground and young couples strolled together holding hands.
As was their custom of an evening, available young women stood in the courtyard talking and waited to see if the man they favored would approach them. If they accepted the offer to walk with a man, it was an encouraging step in what could become a marriage.
Yet Patrick was not there to watch the other men, he was there to see if her parents had finally agreed to allow Finagal to take a husband. Once they did, he fully intended to be the first to approach her. Yet even if her parents approved, young women were allowed to stay away if they did not yet want a husband and it was understandable. He certainly did not want a wife who was not ready.
His friendship with her did not guarantee her acceptance of him and he worried about it daily. During the times they were alone together, which were few, he could not truly tell if she fancied him. She was always pleasant, always seemed happy to see him, but not once did she say or do anything that might lead him to believe she wanted more than friendship. Still, she spent no time at all with any other man and he found that encouraging.
Patrick did not think of himself as shy, but he had a thousand questions and could not muster the courage to ask them when he was with Finagal. Therefore, he was forced to do the same as other men—risk it all and ask to walk with her once she appeared in the courtyard. Surely she would not reject him...would she?
*
MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, Sawney and Mackinzie stood together near the window on the third floor of the Keep, and watched to see if any of their sons would ask a woman to go for a walk, but none of them did. Mackinzie found it frustrating while Sawney was proud of their determination to wait for the right bride. After all, he had seen what a bad choice could do to a warrior and one of his sons would likely be the clan’s next laird. Which son was still debatable. Sawney could always prevent a marriage if he truly thought the match was wrong, but so far, he had denied none who asked for his blessing.
It was then Sawney spotted a stranger, wearing colors he had never seen before, at the far end of the glen. As the stranger’s horse sauntered up the path, the man appeared to be either dead or fast asleep, and even a series of whistles given by the guards announcing his approach did not stir him.
Standing in the glen not far from the courtyard, Keter and Blair heard the whistles and turned to look. Fearing the man may have died from a dreaded illness, they hurried down the path to intercept him before the horse brought the stranger too close to the village.
The man was about to fall off by the time they reached him, making it easy for Blair to pull him down off his horse. As he did, the stranger awoke and grumbled something neither could understand.
“He is drunk,” Keter said, looping one of the man’s arms over his shoulders while Blair did the same on the other side.
“I heard that,” the stranger slurred, abruptly lifting his head. Unable to hold it up for long, he let his chin fall back to his chest. “‘Tis poison, I say, poison!”
“Poison that smells like wine,” Blair chuckled.
The stranger once more lifted his weary head. “Was that what it was?”
“Good news,” said Blair, “save for a pounding head, you will most likely live.”
“Glory of all glories, you have saved me.”
Keter snickered. “Shall we take you to see our laird, or would you prefer a bit of sleep first?”
The stranger hiccupped twice. “Have you anything for a poor soul’s parched throat?”
Keter made the decision for him, nodded toward an empty cottage, and helped Blair take the man that direction. “Thirsty still?”
“A fine lad, such as myself, hick, is always parched.”
“We’ve a river that runs behind our village.” Blair winked at his brother. “I am tempted to throw you in, let you drink your fill and wash the smell of you away.”
“As you wish,” the stranger muttered.
With his foot, Blair pushed the door of the cottage open and helped Keter sit the man down on the bed. Then he grabbed the stranger’s legs and lifted them, while Keter made sure the man did not hit his head on the wall. No sooner had they laid him down than he began to snore. Exchanging grins, they left the cottage and closed the door.
Luke pretended to sleep for a time more, just in case they came back, and when they didn’t, he sat up. He had hoped to be taken to the Keep where he might be left alone with Laird MacGreagor, and now he was not certain what to do. At length, he decided a couple of hours of sleep would do him no harm. He had ridden hard to get there and was truly bone tired. Therefore, napping was an even better plan. Someone would come fetch him for the evening meal and by then he could pretend to be sober.
He glanced at his soiled shirt and turned up his nose at the smell. It was a waste of good wine having to pour it on his clothing, but the ruse worked and was the only way he could think of to make the clan believe he had stumbled across them accidentally.
*
AS HE HOPED, IN THE evening Blair came and took Luke to the Keep where he enjoyed a good meal and several laughs with Sawney and his family. He especially found the triplets fascinating, yet when no one seemed to be watching, he stared into Laird MacGreagor’s eyes as if to indicate he had something to say privately. It worked.
As usual, Laird MacGreagor sat at the head of the table with his guest seated in the first chair to his right. Alone with Sawney at last, Luke leaned forward and kept his voice low, “Do you speak English?”
“I do,” he answered, keeping his voice low as well.
“Are there others that do?”
“I have taught my sons, but I fear the clan does not speak it, save for a few words. Why do we whisper?”
“I prefer we speak it now,” Luke said in English.
“Very well. Are you English?”
“Nay.”
“Do the English want a war?”
“Not yet. Laird MacGreagor, three lads have died in the space of only a few days: the King’s nephew, whom he dearly loved, the king’s closest advisor and the commander of his guards. There is a plot afoot and he asks for your assistance. Are you willing?”
“Of course, he is our king. What does he require?”
“You can allow me to stay in your glen for a time.”
Sawney stared at the table and did not speak for several moments. “I would not deny you even without the king’s request, but there is more, what is it?”
“Aye there is more. The king does not fear death; he fears the death of his only son and the future of Scotland if both are slain. If such were to occur, the crown would rightly go to his nephew, but as I said, he is already dead.”
“Who then?” asked Sawney.
“Who indeed?” Luke asked. “There is no one save a cousin who now lives in England. Why a Scot would go to England is beyond my understanding...unless he makes a ruthless bargain with the English king.”
“I see, do you think the king’s cousin is behind the plot?”
“‘Tis possible, although from what I remember of him, he is the cowardly sort. He may be behind it, but he’ll not do the killing himself. Nay, he has help.”
“Are there no loyal lads in the King’s service who can protect his son?”
Luke could not keep from smiling. He liked Sawney; he liked him a lot. “Did you know your father once accused my father of forcing a MacGreagor lass?”
Sawney wrinkled his brow. He remembered hearing of it, but could not yet grasp why it was important. The story had to do with a murdered woman in their glen and another in the service of the king who thought she knew who the killer was. Sawney remembered his father telling him the story on several occasions, although he did not often say how he accused the... Sawney’s eyes opened wide. “Your father is the King of Scots?”
“Aye and he begs you to give me sanctuary, as well as protection until the plot against us is uncovered.”
“You have grown up.”
Luke chuckled. “Laddies are prone to do that from time to time.”
Sawney should have stood up and bowed to his future king, but he was too shocked. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The MacGreagors would gladly protect him, but how? “I will send for a guard.” He started to rise, but Luke quickly took hold of his arm.
“Nay, that is what you must not do. I am a stranger who wandered into your glen quite by accident. We will say I have come from a clan in the west, I am lost and have asked for a few days of rest before I continue on.”
Sawney slowly sat back down. “I see. The people will have a thousand questions and rumors have no doubt already spread of your arrival.”
“Aye, but as long as they know not who I am, the rumors will pass away quickly.”
Sawney rubbed his brow for a moment. “You will need to wear our colors so the other clans cannot easily spot you among us.”
“I shall wear them proudly. I do ask for one more favor. I ask that you send someone to my Father so he will know I have arrived safely?”
“Were you followed?”
“I am certain not. I rode an unfamiliar horse down the castle hill amid several others who had come for an audience with the king. I wore a patch over one eye and it was at that the people looked. No one recognized me, and none would expect to see me without a full guard for protection. After that, I hid often to see if I was being followed, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.” Luke paused to catch his breath. “I admit I quite enjoyed my solitude and the adventure of finding you on my own. There are some things a prince is rarely allowed to do.”
For the first time, Sawney truly studied the man at the table next to him. Luke looked to be the same age as the triplets with sandy hair, and eyes a little more green than blue. The prince had courage, that much was true and an abundance of courage was required by one who would be the future king of Scotland. He was presentable, although his clothing yet smelled of wine, and he spoke English very well, an advantage for one with such power and authority, who would have to deal with the English king.
Still, keeping him protected without telling the clan why would be challenging at best. Sawney decided to tell his second and third in command, but no one else, save perhaps Mackinzie. His wife would likely want to fuss over the prince and...”
“Are you willing?” asked Luke, interrupting Sawney’s thoughts.
“What?”
“To send someone to tell Father I am alive.”
“Aye.” Sawney considered whom to send for a moment. “My sons long for adventure. ‘Tis time I sent them on a journey and seeing the king will delight them.”
“Splendid. Father will enjoy seeing them as well. Their likeness is astounding.”
Sawney stood up, walked to a nearby table and retrieved a pitcher of wine. “Does the king see all who wish an audience?”
“Hardly, there are hundreds, but triplets will be allowed in.”
“They cannot simply say you are well in front of others.”
Luke held his goblet still and pondered the best way to handle it, while Sawney poured. “Once they say they are MacGreagors, he will suspect you have sent them. Yet you are right, it will not be enough. Father grows more suspicious by the day and he will want to be reassured. On the other hand, he will not make a spectacle of it in front of others. Allow me to think a moment, there must be something known only to him and I.”
Sawney found the silence between them useful. His sons would need provisions and fast horses if they were to relieve the king of his worry. Had he taught them all they needed to know? He hoped so. They were good fighters, of that he was certain; each was slow to anger and quick to respond. What more could a father do to prepare his sons to face the world?
“I have it,” Luke said. “Father loves nothing better than a riddle. When I was a wee laddie and could not sleep, Father asked a question and it was not until years later that he gave the answer.” Luke paused to find a way to make it into a riddle. “Tell your sons to ask the king how many hills a warrior must cross to get from one side of Scotland to the other? I cannot tell you how many times I began to count them and fell asleep.”
“And the answer is?”
“As many as there are.”
*
SAWNEY HAD NOT SLEPT a wink all night, although he did peek into his bedchamber to make sure Mackinzie was sleeping. He and Keter, his second in command gathered supplies and rounded up the horses his sons would need. An hour before dawn, he decided to wake his wife and explain the situation. She took it better than he expected and when he went to wake his sons, she went with him.
The bedchamber they slept in on the second floor used to belong to Sawney and his brother, with a wall that separated them from their sister’s room. That was many years ago and as the boys grew, the builders took down the wall and made one large room. For a moment, Sawney held his candle up and looked at the faces of his beloved sons, each in a separate bed they were close to growing out of.
Tavan stirred, opened his eyes, and was at first alarmed, “What is it, Father?”
“All is well. Get dressed and arm yourselves, I have decided to send you on a journey.”
“What? Why?” Callum asked, abruptly sitting up in bed and swinging his legs over the side.
Mackinzie giggled. “Why not?”
The last to rise, Patrick reached for his clothing. Years of training made each of them quick to wake and be on their guard, but there did not seem to be any real urgency. “Why do we leave so early?”
Sawney didn’t answer. Instead, he put his arm around his wife and walked her out so they could dress. By the time they descended the stairs, Sawney had several more candles lit, and Mackinzie brought bread and honey for their morning meal.
As soon as they were seated, Sawney repeated everything Luke told him. “I’ve a message for you to give the king.”
“We are to see the king?” each of them asked in unison.
Would he ever get used to that, Sawney wondered. He encouraged them to eat and enjoyed their surprise when they realized who Luke really was. He charged them to guard the whereabouts of the prince with their lives and was pleased when each gave his word. Next, he told the riddle. He doubted they would forget it, but just in case, he told them a second time.
Tavan and Callum were instantly excited, but Patrick seemed hesitant. As soon as Sawney stopped speaking, he got up and headed for the door.
“Where does he go?” asked Sawney.
“He goes to see Finagal,” Tavan answered.
Sawney exchanged surprised looks with his wife. “He favors her?”
Callum grinned. “You did not know? All these years we believed you knew everything.”
“He did not know that,” Tavan smugly said. “At last, we have managed to keep something from him.” Both boys laughed when Sawney rolled his eyes.
“We best see everything is ready. Come,” Sawney said leading the way out the door.
*
DAWN WAS JUST BEGINNING to break and few were out and about, save the day guards who were getting ready to relieve the night guards. Some of the hunters were stirring as well, but not many. It was too much to hope Finagal would be outside so early and Patrick was surprised to find her sitting on a rock near the river brushing her long, blonde hair. He spotted a rose in full bloom on midwife Grainee’s rosebush, glanced around, decided no one was watching and picked it. Then he carefully removed the thorns and went to her.
“Are you unwell,” he asked. She seemed happy to see him and it warmed his heart.
“Nay, I come here often to be alone before my brothers and sisters are awake. Why are you up so early?”
He handed her the rose and watched her smell it. “Father is sending us on a journey.”
“All of you?”
“We will be gone but a few days.”
“I see.”
Patrick found a place to sit on a rock facing her. The days when she would not look at him were long gone and he adored seeing the sparkle in her brown eyes, especially when he could make her laugh. There was no sparkle this day and he noticed. “Something plagues you, what is it?”
Finagal sighed. “My uncle and cousins will come tomorrow.”
“This does not please you?”
“It does...mostly.”
“Does ‘mostly’ mean there is something about them that does not please you?”
“I love them all. It is just that I am betrothed to my cousin and I do not wish to marry him.”
So, that was her secret. Everything became clear finally and Patrick’s worry that someone was hurting her was for naught. About that, he was relieved, yet he could not bear the thought of her becoming some other man’s wife. He was excited about going with his brothers, but it was the worst of all times to be leaving. “You cannot marry him if I claim you first.”
Finagal was surprised and looked deep in his eyes. “You would do that for me?”
He puffed his cheeks. “I do not do it for you, I do it for me. I would have claimed you long ago, but you did not come to the courtyard.”
“Truly?”
“You did not suspect?”
A little embarrassed, she turned away and watched the rushing water in the river. “I used to think so, but we grew up and...and once I knew I was to marry another, I did not think of it anymore.”
“Tell me, did you want to come to the courtyard?”
“Sometimes and sometimes not. I often do not know what I want.”
“‘Tis because you are not yet ready to take a husband.”
“Perhaps.”
“Does your cousin wish to marry you?” Patrick could not help but ask.
“He is willing.”
He slowly lowered his gaze and stared at the ground. Perhaps her father gave his pledge. A man’s pledge was his honor and breaking it was the same as dishonoring himself and his family. There was little Patrick could do just now, but he did think of something to say, “Persuade your cousin to wait. Tell him you do not wish to marry yet. He abruptly took her hand in his. “Promise you will wait.”
“I will try.” Finagal watched Patrick walk up the path until she could no longer see him. She did not smile at his proposal nor cry at his leaving. Her destiny was set and there was nothing to be done. At length, she smelled the rose one more time, tossed it in the river and watched it float away.
*
SAWNEY BID EACH OF his sons Godspeed, watched them mount, and kept watching until they rode down the path and went out of sight. Only then did he let his shoulders slump and put his arms around his wife. As usual, there was much to do to keep the glen and its occupants running smoothly and hopefully their days would be too full to worry over their sons. Sawney released her, took his youngest daughter’s hand and started back to the Keep. It promised to be another sunny day.
*
THEIR MOUNTS WERE THE fastest and the best of all the MacGreagor horses, each horse chosen especially for each triplet at the colt’s birth and each trained to come at the command of all three. If the horses were befuddled by like sounding whistles and voices, they did not show it. In a hurry to relieve the king’s worry, they rode hard, stopping only long enough to rest the horses. Not willing to chance being delayed, each time they thought they were about to meet someone on a path, they hid and waited for the stranger to pass.
They hardly spoke until time to bed down for the night and it was then Tavan saw how forlorn Patrick was. He asked why, but Patrick did not answer.
Patrick hardly knew what bothered him most, the possibility Finagal would marry another or her lack of emotion where he was concerned. A woman in love has a light in her eyes, or so his mother once said, and Finagal had no such light.
When his brother neglected to explain, Tavan thought to distract him. “I say once we reach the village, we go our separate ways. Seeing us in three different places will make the villagers think they have gone daft.”
“Aye, but we are to see the king together,” said Callum. A slight chill in the air caused him to close his sheepskin cloak at the neck, although he was careful to make certain he could still easily draw his sword.
“Father did not precisely say we were to go to the king together, did he?” asked Patrick.
“Nay, he did not,” Tavan was happy to say.
Callum frowned, “Aye, but that is what he meant.”
“‘Twould not be the first time we misunderstood him,” said Tavan. “Besides, think what delights we shall have. We can trick an entire clan and all those who come to see the king. I have heard he has many visitors daily.”
Callum was still frowning. “Aye and we are to be three of them.”
“We shall all see him, but not together and perhaps not on the same day,” Tavan argued. “I wish to see his encampments and match my archery against theirs.”
Callum suddenly had a change of heart and gave up his side of the argument. “I hear there is many a bonnie lass in the king’s village.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “From where did you hear that?”
Callum pretended to think hard about it. “I do not recall. Nevertheless, I intend to see a good part of them, and if I am alone, perhaps I might find a wife that does not prefer the two of you!”
“I find that highly unlikely,” Tavan said, “but if you must prove you are more charming than the two of us, so be it. Find a wife, carry her off and don’t come to me when you discover you have chosen poorly. I, for one, will not marry until I find the lass I cannot live without.”
*
ALL THE TRIPLETS WERE gone and no one in the clan knew where they went, save Sawney and Mackinzie. Sawney would only say his sons would return soon and allowed no more questions. It was a mystery that immediately sparked a furious round of speculation and gossip. Some said the triplets went to carry on business with the Swintons on Sawney’s behalf, others guessed they had gone to see the ocean, or worse—they went to England.
And then there was the odd stranger among them, who knew not how to do anything useful. He wore MacGreagor colors and was a curious sort, wanting to watch the tanners, the weavers and even the candle maker. Furthermore, he talked little, said only that he was on a journey and wished to rest for a day or two.
Something was up and everyone was suspicious. How could it be that this man arrived one day, and the very next day, the triplets went away without explanation? Indeed, something very important was taking place...but what?
Few took particular note when Finagal’s relatives arrived. It was not unusual to see them at least twice a year, once in the early spring before the planting and once late in the autumn after the harvest. She was happy to see them and pleasant to her aunt, uncle, her cousin, Innis, and his four sisters as they ate a noon meal outside in the sunshine.
When Innis asked her to walk in the glen with him, she was willing. Yet they walked together in silence for several minutes before she spoke. “Where will we live?”
“I have built a fine cottage for us,” Innis replied.
She assumed that much for he had been building the cottage for two years and spoke of the progress each time he came. “I mean, is it within the village or without?”
“We work the land; therefore we live away from the village, but not so far away that you cannot walk to it, if you’ve a mind to.”
“Do you believe we will be happy?”
He glanced back at their watching families and took her hand. “Of course we will.”
They were past the warriors practicing their skills in the glen and almost to the corral when she stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Happier than my parents?”
“And mine, I hope.”
She didn’t mind holding his hand. They had held hands on every visit, but this time it meant much more. Still, she was trapped and she might as well try to find some happiness with him. “Do you fancy me?”
He bowed his head. He had always been honest with her and saw no reason not to tell her the truth now. “I do love you, you are my cousin, and I have always loved you. But...I will have to learn to love you the way a husband should love his wife.”
Finagal tried to smile, but she felt more like crying. “I will learn to love you as well...if I can.” She bit her lower lip, closed her eyes and then slowly opened them again. “‘Tis so unfair to you.”
“You must not think of it that way. I would not agree if I did not love you.”
Tears began to gather in her eyes. “We will not be happier than our parents. We will have children, do what all people do and go to our graves, never knowing what love is.”
“Perhaps and perhaps not. Who is to say we will not love each other that way in time.”
“How can you not feel so very put upon?”
Innis took her in his arms and stroked the back of her hair. “I do this willingly, not because I am forced. I would do much more to keep you safe.”
*
AFTER THE EVENING MEAL, Finagal’s father took her to the Keep to ask for Sawney’s blessing. The announcement of her betrothal surprised both Sawney and Mackinzie, but if Finagal was willing to marry another, then she must not love Patrick. As was the MacGreagor custom, Sawney asked to speak to Finagal alone. Her father agreed and left the great hall.
Finagal seemed a bit nervous once left alone with her laird, but so did all brides-to-be at first. He urged her to sit beside him at the table and took her hand. “I must know, is this marriage of your own choosing?”
She knew he would ask, but it was not until that very moment that she realized how hard it would be to lie to him. She quickly lowered her eyes. “Aye.”
Laird MacGreagor released her hand and leaned back in his chair. He did not know Finagal all that well, having no occasion to spend much time with her individually. Yet a happy bride always smiled when he asked that question, and the expression on her face did not change. “Your parents have not urged you to marry?”
“Nay.”
Sawney leaned forward again. “Do you love Innis?”
Finagal was relieved. She had already told a lie and nearly choked on it, but saying she loved her cousin was not a lie, at least not a very big one. “Aye.”
“You are aware my son also favors you?”
That was the one question she was not prepared for and it took a moment for her to think of something to say. “Patrick is a very good lad.”
“I believe he is too. You do not favor him?”
“Laird MacGreagor, I will always consider him a fast friend and should he come to see us, I will welcome him.”
How expertly she neglected to answer the question, Sawney thought. Why not just say she does not favor Patrick? Something truly seemed amiss, but he could not guess what. “When do you wish to marry?”
“Tomorrow morning. The priest is here and Uncle wishes to get an early start for home.”
“So soon?”
“Aye.” She took a forgotten breath and quickly released it. “May I go now?”
“Not yet. There is something you do not say, what is it?”
She couldn’t seem to help wringing her hands and forced herself to stop. “I can think of nothing more to tell you.”
Again, he watched her lower her eyes as though it hurt to look at him. “After the harvest, we have a very fine feast. It is a good time to marry and your cousin returns then, as I recall.”
“Are you saying I cannot marry?”
“Nay, I am saying you must wait. Finagal, I do not see happiness in your eyes and a bride should be happy on the eve of her wedding. You are not yet ready to marry.”
She folded her hands in her lap and thought about that. A delay would truly do no harm and she would like more time before she married. Another summer at home might even do her good. At length, she looked up at him. “Will you tell my Father?”
“Gladly. We are agreed then?”
At last, Finagal smiled. With a quick nod, she stood, turned around and nearly ran out the door.
Sawney stood when she did and once she was gone, sat back down and took a forgotten breath. He had until fall to find out what was going on, and it might not be easy. He considered her friends, realized she spent most of her time with her family, and had none except, it seemed, Patrick. Did Patrick know she was betrothed to her cousin? Sawney doubted it. Was Patrick the reason she was so unhappy? She did not answer that question or even hint Patrick was. Therefore, there could only be one answer—it was an arranged marriage, perhaps arranged long ago by parents who gave their pledges. Whatever it was, he had to find a way to keep Finagal and Innis from venturing into a sorrowful marriage.
