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THE GARDEN CONTAINED dozens of rose, raspberry and rhododendron bushes, together with a variety of fruit and nut bearing trees. He ducked when he noticed a bee heading straight for him and then stepped out of the way. Colorful butterflies seemed to be everywhere, a slight breeze rustled the leaves, and the air smelled fresh and clean.
Patrick was pleased with how well his meeting went with the king, yet he was not so happy to be deterred from seeing the village. He guessed it didn’t matter that much, decided just to enjoy the garden and walked to a stonewall on the far side. At first, he was disappointed that the high wall blocked his view of the valley below, but then he discovered slots. They were more suited to shorter men and he had to stoop to see the limited view. He moved to the next slot and the next, but the view was not much better and he soon tired of it.
For a time, he walked the rows between the bushes, admired the flowers, and on several occasions paused to look up at the guard towers. He was being watched but it did not bother him, the king’s guards were expected to keep a careful eye on all strangers. Still, he sorely wished to be that high up and stand in one of the wide windows enjoying the sight. He had much to tell when he got home as it was, but none would believe the magnificent view from one of those windows.
Oddly, he thought about Graw, the woman he had just met in the king’s kitchen. He touched the place she kissed his cheek and then rolled his eyes. He was supposed to be thinking of Finagal. Yet the problem with Finagal did not seem as monumental as it had that morning. She was a good woman and he could do far worse, but if he was truly in love, why did he find Graw so becoming?
Patrick forced himself to forget both women and think about his brothers. He supposed by now one or both had gotten themselves into some kind of bind. For Callum, it was most likely a woman and as skilled as Tavan thought he was, some men did not appreciate losing to a stranger.
*
TAVAN RODE TOWARD THE encampment fully intending not to stop, but a farmer trying to plough a parcel of land caught his attention. Two oxen pulled, while the man guided the “V” shaped planks of iron through dirt softened by the previous rain. The iron planks were curved outward at the top, a type of plough Tavan had never seen before, and he wanted a better look. The farmer seemed pleased to have company and was more than willing to talk as he ploughed, explaining every detail, up to and including how to plant the seeds to get the best yield from the crop. The curves, Tavan learned, were simply to keep the dirt from falling back into the rows.
Tavan went on his way again and was not even that close to the encampment when six men rode out of a clump of trees and surrounded him. Startled, Tavan quickly pulled back on his horse’s reins, which made the stallion begin to back up.
“Halt,” the guard shouted.
“I am trying,” said Tavan. At last, he got his horse calmed down and gave his full attention to the King’s men.
“What business have you here?” asked the guard.
“I have heard much of your skills and have come to see for myself.”
The guard scoffed. “I say you come to spy on us.”
“What?”
The guard frowned. “Have you lost your hearing?”
“If I came to spy, would I be witless enough to simply ride into your encampment?”
“‘Tis a trick. Let the commander say which you are.”
There seemed no point in objecting and surrounded by six able-bodied men, there was little chance of escape even if Tavan desired it. Therefore, when they began to ride toward the large gate, he gladly went with them. He was about to meet the king’s commander and was certain he could sufficiently explain everything. Meanwhile, he would see all there was to see inside the encampment, which was exactly what he hoped for.
*
AT THEIR ARRIVAL, THE palisade gate was still open and inside were stone buildings, which he assumed were the armory, the hospital and perhaps the kitchens. Sleeping quarters consisted of a maze of round tents made of stitched together hides. Each had a single pointed top and a colorful, foot-wide red and yellow valance attached at the edge of the roof. The overlapping doors on most were tied back to let in the fresh air. The tents surrounded an open area where several men on one end practiced their sword fighting skills. On the other end, kneeling archers shot their arrows at the same moment to see who could shoot the highest.
The encampment stables were massive stalls in rows one behind the other. Tavan was especially interested in the armory where the guards kept extra weapons including the wickedly sharpened, double bladed axes on long poles, and the two-pronged spears he had heard about. He hoped to see how they were made so he could improve the MacGreagor’s fighting skills in case they truly had to face the English someday.
What greatly surprised him was the number of women outside the tents who tried to get in the way of the guard’s horses as they were trying to pass. He was shocked when two of the women puckered their lips into kisses and one tried to tempt him by drawing one side of her skirt up to her knee.
“Get back,” the guard shouted.
Reluctantly the women moved away, yet they continued to smile at Tavan with a sort of smile he found unsettling.
A guard on the other side of Tavan noticed his amazement and said, “For a price, they will let you have your way with them.”
“I see,” said Tavan.
“I could arrange...” The second guard glanced at the disapproval of the first, and quickly thought better of what he was about to say.
For once, Tavan was glad Callum was not with him for he would have fallen under the spell of one of these women for sure. Even if he was tempted, Tavan knew full well more than one man had been forced into marriage after giving into his lust. Nothing would disappoint his father more.
*
IRVINE ORIGINALLY CAME from Clan Mackinna and from a young age saw himself as a warrior in the king’s service. Upon proving his skills at 16, he steadily moved up the ranks until at age twenty-six, he gained the coveted position of commander. He fully intended to obtain that rank through hard work and dedication, but the death of his predecessor abruptly propelled him into the position.
Having been liaison between the commander and the king, he knew pleasing the king would not be easy. It was not that the king was unlikable, it was just that Irvine’s ideas for improving the skills of the men were contrary to the King’s, who liked to keep things just the way they were.
The commander of the king’s men kept to his quarters on the bottom floor of a small stone building on most days, giving out orders, making decisions and then sending messengers to report to the king. There were other matters at hand, which normally bored him, but it was work that had to be done. He often gave the less important matters to his next in command, who delegated it to others, who passed it on, and so on and so forth. When he came to the nasty business of execution, he was more than happy to give that chore to the cousins, just as his predecessor had.
Before he became commander, he had little use for the cousins, but once the responsibilities became his, Irvine found them even more annoying. Twice they gave him false information attempting to gain a reward and he saw no value whatsoever in the two of them put together. Yet executions were a nasty business and like everyone else, he tolerated them.
Then, there was the matter of the missing prince, which lately took up every spare moment he had. As the days and hours passed, Irvine still had no word of where the prince might be or who took him. No one broke into the castle, of that Irvine was certain and there did not appear to be a fight inside or outside the prince’s bedchamber. Therefore, the prince did not resist, a deed Irvine found cowardly. In fact, it galled him no end. Some future king this prince would make.
Irvine was in the middle of sending men out for yet another search of the countryside when word came of Tavan’s capture. Hoping to have an answer at last, he ordered the prisoner brought to him immediately.
It was sparring in the field Tavan was watching when the guards abruptly stopped in front of the commander’s quarters and ordered him to dismount. He obliged them, and did not become truly concerned until one of the guards harshly shoved him through the door. Although he almost fell, he righted himself and held his ire. Seated in a chair behind a table on the far side of the room was the man he assumed was the commander. He wore the same colors as the guards with the addition of a large gold medallion on the patch of cloth that covered his left shoulder.
The difference in their sizes did not bother Irvine, he was accustomed to being shorter than most. “Who are you?”
“I am Tavan from Clan MacGreagor.”
Irvine looked his captive up and down and then raised his voice. “What business have you here?”
“No business, I only came to watch the lads train.”
“So you can report back to the King of England?”
Tavan smirked. “Hardly, MacGreagors do not abide the English.”
Irvine did not believe him. With the prince missing, he could not afford to believe any man, let alone a stranger. “I say you come to spy on us, what say you?”
“I say I have no cause to spy. MacGreagors are good fighters, but we hope to become even better. The time may come when Scotland will need all the good fighters she can find.”
It was sound reasoning, Irvine thought, yet it was suspicious for him to arrive so soon after the prince went missing. “Where is the prince, have you hurt him, is he dead?”
Tavan was completely taken aback. He had not expected to be asked any questions about the prince and tried to act surprised. “He is missing?” From the look on the commander’s face, he guessed his lie was not very convincing.
“Everyone knows he is missing.”
“I did not know.”
“We have sent word to the far corners of the kingdom, how is it you have not heard?”
“Perhaps because I was on my way here. What happened?”
Irvine abruptly slammed his hand down on the table causing both Tavan and his guards to jump. “Dare you question me?”
Tavan lowered his gaze. “Nay, I only meant...”
“I find you guilty of treason against the King of Scots.”
“What?”
“Guards, take him to the hold.” As soon as he said it, two guards came forward and grabbed Tavan’s arms. “‘Tis a pity we do not have an English dungeon to throw you in. I can think of no worse crime than to kidnap the prince of Scots. You will tell me where he is or I shall see to your execution!”
Enraged finally, Tavan narrowed his eyes. “I have done nothing wrong and you well know it.”
“I say you have. Take him away before I can contain my anger no longer! Perhaps a day or two without food will loosen his tongue.”
*
IT SEEMED LIKE HOURS before the king came to the garden to meet with Patrick. Even then, two guards walked in front of the king with two more plus Samuel behind. “Leave us,” the king commanded.
“We will have his weapons first,” said a guard.
“Aye, if you must.”
Patrick quickly untied the strings to his sword and dagger, and then handed them to the guard. He watched the guards bow and then quickly go back inside. Finally, the king smiled and Patrick returned with one of his own.
“Is he well.”
“Aye, he pretended to be drunk when his horse wandered into our glen. He does that very well.”
The king chuckled. “Indeed he does. I have seen it a time or two myself. Can the MacGreagors protect him?”
“They will do all they can, I assure you.”
The King started to walk down the row of high raspberry bushes and Patrick followed. “Are you Justin’s eldest son?
“Nay, Justin was my grandfather. My father is Sawney and the question of my being the eldest has yet to be determined.”
The king plopped a ripe berry in his mouth and turned to look Patrick in the eye. “I do not understand. How can a lad not know if he is the eldest son?”
“The midwives neglected to mark us.”
A light of understanding was slow in coming, but when it did, the king laughed. “You are one of the triplets? I have heard of you. Triplets are very rare in Scotland; in fact, I do not believe any others have been born in my lifetime, at least none that survived. Where are your brothers? I should like very much to see all three.”
“Callum is in the village admiring every lass he sees and Tavan went to your encampment.”
“Promise you will bring them to see me before you leave.”
“I promise.”
They were back at the table when the door opened and Graw came out carrying a tray of delights, a pitcher, and two goblets. Normally a chore delegated to the men servants, Graw wanted another look at the handsome stranger with mesmerizing blue eyes. Fortunately, the busy servant did not object and let her have her way.
She walked straight to the king, handed him the tray so she could curtsy properly and then took the tray back. Her antics always made the king chuckle and they did not fail this time either.
“Graw is a MacGreagor too, although in a roundabout way. Her grandmother was Bethal, the delight of my life for many a year. Bethal has passed, as have they all save me, it seems.”
Graw walked to the table, waited for the king and Patrick to sit, set the tray down and then filled their goblets with wine. Again she curtsied, turned and was about to leave when she turned back. “Have you heard, Your Majesty? This is the lad who saved my mother from the cousins this morning.”
Patrick tried not to notice, but the sunlight caught the edges of her hair, making the strands look golden and when she smiled, deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. He had not noticed that before.
“This is the one? Then I am more than grateful. For that he shall spend the night in my castle.” He could not help but notice the look of delight on Graw’s face, but Patrick looked perplexed. “Does that not please you?”
“Aye, very much, but I promised to meet...”
“I see. Very well, but you will come tomorrow. I rarely have opportunity to display the place and you give me a fine reason to do so. Bring whomever you like, the more the merrier.” The king reached out, took Graw’s hand and squeezed it. “I truly must do something about the cousins.”
“I wish you would, they aim to kill someone and they care not who.” Graw smiled at Patrick once more and then disappeared back inside.
The king noticed the exchange between the two, but then there was little that escaped his notice. “Graw is every bit as delightful as her grandmother. Life would be downcast without her here, but every lass needs a husband.” He broke off a piece of sweet bread and ate it before he continued. “Are you married?”
“Nay, Your Majesty.”
“Very good, very good indeed.” He decided he had said enough and changed the subject. “I’ve a vast array of informants who are going mad trying to find my son. I dare say it is harder to pretend misery than I thought. Being here with you where I can let down my guard is a welcome relief.”
Patrick turned to look up at the guard towers and realized the table was sufficiently hidden behind the fruit trees.
“‘Tis far more tiresome being King than any know. I must see messengers from the whole of Scotland and many who come as you did, although most want silly unimportant things easily gained from others. Oh, I tolerate them because they’ve a right to lay eyes on me now that I no longer ride the land to see them. Occasionally there is an important matter needing my attention, but not often and certainly not daily.”
He wondered if Patrick was even paying attention. Patrick had not touched his sweet bread and instead seemed to be fascinated by the small windowpanes in the wall of the castle. “I blame the King of England for those. I ordered the best glass London had to offer, and this is what they sent me—glass so warped it is impossible to see out. I suppose ‘tis a blessing, for no one can see in either.”
Unable to get another look at Graw, Patrick finally turned his attention back to the king. “Do the English want a war?”
“Ah, well that is the question. Some days I think yea, some nay. He toys with me, wanting this and that, all of which is unreasonable. At times, I consider attacking him first, win or lose, just to be done with it. Either way, I suspect peaceful times in Scotland are coming to an end. I predict a sea of Scottish blood before our time is lost, although I pray it will be English blood instead.”
Patrick swallowed his bite of bread. “We are strong, we can win a war against them.”
“Can we? I am not so certain. The kings of greed, I call them. They always want more and Scotland’s beauty tempts each that takes the English throne. Yet it may not come to a war. As you are aware, someone seeks to kill my son. I cannot be certain the English are behind it, but whoever it is hopes I will die soon enough of my own accord. That would leave Scotland without a Scottish king and it will be a treacherous and forbidding time for all lads.”
“What more can we do to prevent it?”
“Keep my son in good health until I can uncover the plot. Once it is safe, I shall send a full guard to collect him.”
*
THE TENT IN WHICH TAVAN found himself, held three other men, all angry, all dirty and all clambering for food. It was not a welcome sight. Furthermore, his horse, his weapons and all his provisions had been taken away. He could not believe it. He, the careful one, the one who always looked before he leapt, had been so easily taken without a fight. What was his father going to think of that?
His second thought was finding a way to escape. Attached to the center pole at the top, several ropes fanned out and ran to the edge of the sloped top. From there, they were threaded through holes to the outside and then tied to spikes in the ground. More wooden poles set at precise intervals kept the tent upright and looked to be easily folded should the king’s army be on the move. It seemed a strong tent, able to keep out most of the rain and keep them in, particularly since there were two guards posted right outside the tied-back opening. He assumed there were guards all around the tent. At least it was high enough to allow him to stand up straight. However, furnishings were nonexistent with no blankets, not flasks of water and no food. Resigned, he crossed his feet at the ankles and sat on the ground.
The man across from him sported a bruise on his cheek that nearly blackened one eye and when he whispered, it was easy to see both of his front teeth were missing. “Are ye strong enough to push the tent over in the night, lad?”
“You are not happy here?” Tavan asked.
The second man elbowed the first, “Not lost his humor yet, has he. He will.”
Tavan wondered how long it would be before his brothers came looking for him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Losing his sense of humor was the least of his worries. Trying not to look obvious, he examined the bottom of the tent. Wooden spikes on the outside held the skins tight to the ground, and were spaced too close together for even a small man to slip under. He might be able to loosen the pegs, but he would have to wait until after dark to try it. After that, what could he do? How does a man wearing the wrong colors get through all the tents and then outside the palisade without getting caught?
*
AS EVENING APPROACHED, Callum had seen all there was to see. Each table in the marketplace held something different, some old, some new and some quite worthless unless the need was born out of desperation. He’d also seen his share of women, short, tall, round, thin and with every color of hair and eyes. None were as becoming as the first with dark hair, but she was nowhere to be found.
Hunger tempted him to barter for a chunk of ham and half a loaf of bread. Together with a goblet of wine, he found a place to sit on the ground, and leaned his back against a cottage wall. Twice he had to shoo away a chicken eager to help him eat his meal, until a boy took pity, came and captured the chicken. The crowd was thinning and some of the sellers were beginning to pack their wares for the night. Those leaving first were the elders, he noticed, and he did not blame them. Some had chairs to sit in, but most stood all day long, calling out their tempting offers with welcoming smiles.
Callum might not have been able to hear the quarreling man and woman around the corner, had the marketplace been more crowded. Nevertheless, he could hear every word, had nothing better to do and simply listened to the woman’s voice.
“You have promised me to three lads already, I am tempted to marry one just to spite you.”
To that, the man said, “Calm yourself, Kylie, tonight we go happily on our way as we always do.”
“Aye, you go happily...I do not.”
“But tonight ‘tis different, daughter. We will have gold and silver enough to keep us well fed for years.”
“That is what you always say and never is it enough. We move to the next village and the next, but there cannot be as many new villages with unmarried lads in Scotland as you think. We are bound to see an end to them sometime.”
“Nonsense, Scotland raises up a new crop of lads every year.”
“Aye, they are new...we are not!” It was useless arguing with him, but Kylie would be remiss if she didn’t at least try. Born into a clan that did not survive an attack by a neighboring clan, they barely escaped their burning village with their lives. With no horses, no funds and scant belongings, they endured a long and painful walk to another village and that was where it all began.
Quite unexpectedly, Kylie’s father, Ross, was offered a fine reward for the hand of his pleasing daughter and he was happy to agree. Kylie was horrified, but what could she do? Fathers were allowed to dispose of their daughters any way they chose and a woman had no say in the matter. Yet, she was not one to simply comply and on the eve of her wedding day, Kylie escaped.
At first Ross was furious, until he realized he still had the price for her hand. Even before he found her, he decided having a bonnie lass for a daughter could be very beneficial. At the next village, he used the money he gained from the first to barter for two horses, which greatly enhanced all their future escapes. The second time she played along with his scheme. She had no choice in that either, for there was another matter to consider, one she thought about and worried over constantly.
There came a time when Ross got greedy and instead of promising her to one at a time, he thought nothing of multiple betrothals. Now they stood in the largest of all Scottish villages and Kylie was sick of it. “Father, sooner or later, one will find us and then what do you suppose he will do? He will slay you and force me to marry him.”
“Well, if you feel that way about it, I promise we will do it but one more time and then be done with it.”
“Nay, Father, not another time. If you betroth me again I will marry the poor sop.”
Ross knew not whose colors he wore and did not care. There were so many clans, he doubted anyone would question where they came from. His faded yellow kilt matched her long plaid and that was all that mattered. “You would not do it.”
“Wouldn’t I? Tell me how life with a stranger could be worse than riding from village to village with you. I am tired, Father, I want a home, children and a bed to sleep in at night.”
He gently brushed a lock of her dark, unbraided hair off her forehead and smiled lovingly. “And you shall have it. Where would you like to take up residence?”
Kylie was not fooled. He always became tender when he wanted to persuade her and it usually worked. She was determined it would not work this time. “I want to live here.”
“Here, in the king’s village? Whatever for?”
“‘Tis as good a place as any.”
“We cannot live here, I have promised you to two, nay three lads here. Each will expect a wedding come Friday and then what will you do?”
“I will tell them I have changed my mind.”
“But they will demand the pay back.”
“Then give it back.” She watched the expression on his face turn to sadness, just as it always did when she was about to find him out. “You have lost it already? Upon what did you wager this time?” Her father refused to look her in the eye. “Are all our funds gone...all of them?” Still he did not answer. Kylie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I should have known. There is but one way to stop you and stop you I must.”
Abruptly, his sadness turned to ire and his determination matched hers. “I am still your father and I say what is to become of you.”
“How long? How long must I be pledged to such unsuspecting lads? Until my youth is wasted and I can no longer lure them? What then, Father?” She knew exactly what he would do and hated the thought. If not for that, she would have walked away from her misery long ago. She was trapped, just as she always was. Kylie watched his ire once more fade into his best pitiful look. She might as well give in, with no funds at all, there would be no evening meal and she was hungry. “Very well then, I will allow it just once more. Only you will give me the pay this time.”
He instantly brightened. “I will, I will do it.”
She didn’t believe him. “If you do not, I will marry the lad this very day! I swear it!”
