| |
––––––––
FOR THE SAKE OF THE children, there were no cross words at supper that night, but as soon as Beitris came to put the children to bed and Kester left, Michael made up his mind to confront Grizel in front of Master Balric and Elena. He hoped with witnesses she could not claim a misunderstanding later. He scooted his chair back, crossed his legs and looked directly at her. “Laird Swinton came to see me today.”
“Is that who that was?” Grizel asked.
“He had quite a tale to tell. It seems Laird Dalldon’s daughter was betrothed to a Frenchman, at the request of the king. Apparently, she ran off.”
“How fascinatin’,” Grizel said, not bothering to pretend to be shocked. “Perhaps she dinna wish to marry a Frenchman, even if the king desired it.”
“Nevertheless, the king is unhappy and therefore so am I. It seems her father is offerin’ a reward for her return and I am tempted to collect it.”
“Michael, you cannae think I am Laird Dalldon’s daughter.”
“I can,” Elena muttered.
Grizel glared at the woman across the table. “I assure you, I am not.”
“Another lie?” Elena asked. “There is no end to it, is there?”
Grizel sneered, “The simple minded are always jealous of what they can never be.”
Elena returned with a defiant glare of her own. “This simple minded would never wish to be what you are.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Grizel, I require the name of the lad who has threatened to harm you.”
Grizel looked at Michael for a very long time, as if searching for an answer in his eyes. “I dinna wish to say.”
“Then I shall be forced to send you away.”
Grizel’s voice began to rise. “Away where?”
“I shall have a lad take you wherever you wish to go, but you cannae stay here.”
“Michael, if you were to marry me...” Grizel tried.
“Marry you?” Michael interrupted, “and face the king’s disfavor? You think me daft?”
“I do not think you daft,” said Grizel. “I consider you...”
“Handsome, beyond tempting, and perhaps even brilliant?” Elena interrupted. When she looked, Michael was frowning at her, so she held her tongue.
“I shall ask this but once more,” Michael said to Grizel, this time in a much more forceful tone of voice. “Name the lad who means to harm you!”
Grizel was trapped and she knew it, so she said nothing.
“Then there can be no other answer. You are Laird Dalldon’s daughter.” Again she did not answer, so Michael stood up and started to leave the room.
“If you fear the king,” said Grizel, “then take me to Laird Swinton.”
Michael stopped and turned around. “You mean to start a war between Swinton and your father?”
“I cannae prevent it. Father surely suspects Laird Swinton took me anyway. I expect him to attack the Swintons, and no doubt father shall see that I die in the battle. Even so, I shall not marry a filthy Frenchman, I shall not sail to France, and I care not what the king wants.”
“Very well,” Michael said, “in the mornin’ I shall take you to Laird Swinton myself. He shall see to your safety well enough.” Again he started to walk out.
“Michael,” Elena sighed, “You cannae.”
He stopped and once more turned back. “Why not?”
“Grizel is with child and it is likely a MacGreagor child. If her father kills her, he kills the child with her.”
Michael slowly took his eyes off of Elena and looked at Grizel. “Is this true?”
Grizel did not bother to hide her grin. “I can stay, then?” she watched Michael storm out of the room without answering. Balric, she noticed was staring at her as if he had no idea what had just happened, and Elena still had that same boring glare on her face. “Thank you, Elena. You have saved me.”
“A turn I regret already.” Elena stood up, and chose to leave the dining room through the door opposite the one Michael walked out of. Upstairs, she checked on the children, found them tucked into bed with Beitris telling them a story, and then went to her room.
Long into the night, she stood at the window watching the scant dusk turn to a starlit night. All she could do now was wait to see if Michael offered to marry Grizel.
In the Great Hall, Michael poured himself a full goblet of ale, took a long drink, and stood beside the fire watching the dying embers crackle and burn. His choices where Grizel was concerned were few as it was, but a MacGreagor child on the way meant he had no choice at all.
*
IN THE COURTYARD OF Edinburgh castle, women carried baskets of goods into the castle, men worked daily to build King David’s tower, while other men waited hoping for an audience with the king. Two lairds, having just come out of the castle, walked together to the foot high stone wall at the outer edge of the courtyard.
Laird Cormag Kennedy put a foot atop the wall, and took a moment to enjoy the view of the town below and the vast countryside in the distance. “So the rumors are false, she is not found after all,” he said keeping his voice down. “MacGreagor has her.”
“Aye, he does,” Laird Conall MacKintosh agreed.
“Will he fight to protect her?”
“Possibly. Many a MacGreagor has upheld the edict in the past, and I expect Michael to be no different. Yet, what better way to serve our king than to take her to her father.”
“And share the reward?”
Laird MacKintosh chuckled. “Aye, and perhaps do away with Laird Dalldon somehow?”
“You hate him still?”
“You do not? I hear he cut off the ear of a maid simply because she dinna hear him correctly. Why the king favors him befuddles my mind. Dalldon had wronged us all, even Michael MacGreagor.”
“True,” Laird Kennedy agreed. He watched a flock of birds fly overhead and then kept his eyes on a small ship sailing into the Water of Leith. “You think to kill Dalldon? Many have tried, but none have succeeded in drawin’ him out without a hundred man guard.”
“‘He would come out quickly enough if we had his daughter.”
A slow grin appeared on Laird Kennedy’s face. “Where might Osgar Allardice be these days?”
“I have heard nothin’ of him lately, but if anyone can draw Dalldon out, ‘tis Osgar.”
“If Osgar is willin’,” said Kennedy.
“For the right price, Osgar is always willin’.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“I suggest we pay a little visit to Michael,” said MacKintosh.
“And if he has her and will not give her up?”
Laird MacKintosh answered, “The MacGreagors are fierce fighters and we would need many men to take her by force, but it can be done.”
“I pray it dinna come to that.”
“As do I.”
“What about the king? Will he object to our fightin’ the MacGreagors?”
“The king wants her married to the Frenchman. He will not object so long as we are successful,” MacKintosh said.
When their guards arrived bringing their horses with them, both lairds mounted and started down the road to the bottom of the hill.
*
STANDING NOT FAR AWAY, Laird Ferguson listened to their plot. There was a time when the Fergusons and the MacGreagors were at odds with one another, but after William Wallace’s War, it was the MacGreagors who nursed three Ferguson warriors back to health. It was a kindness the Ferguson lairds had not forgotten, and as soon as the other two lairds left the king’s courtyard, Laird Ferguson set out to warn Michael.
*
IN THE MACGREAGOR GLEN, Michael’s foot hurt more than normal, which usually meant they could expect another storm. In the Great Hall, he had just added another log to the fire in his hearth hoping to alleviate the ache when Diarmad knocked, waited to be asked in, and then opened the door. Even though he would rather sit near the hearth and rest his foot, out of respect for the elder, Michael stood up.
“I am happy to see you,” said Michael.
Diarmad frowned. “You’ve a might lot of trouble, the way I see it.”
“More than you know,” Michael answered. “Will you not sit with me?”
“Nay, I have come to show you somethin’.”
“What?”
“Follow me, lad.” The elder man walked slower than most, and would soon need a walking stick, but on that day Michael was grateful for the less demanding pace. In obedience, he followed instead of walking beside the elder, which made more than a few members of the clan turn to watch – especially Kester. Even a laird could get himself in trouble, and when an elder took his laird far away from the curious clan, it usually meant the laird was in for a good scolding.
What Michael hoped for was a short stroll, but that was not to be. Diarmad walked to the end of the cottages, across the place where the men practiced their warrior skills and then kept going. It was not until he reached the far end of the graveyard that he stopped and waited for Michael to catch up.
Before him stood the tallest of all the headstones in the MacGreagor graveyard and even after the passing of so many generations, Michael was still able to read the one simple Gaelic name on the stone – Neil. “Why do you bring me here?”
“Because you need remindin’,” Diarmad answered. “‘Twas Laird Neil MacGreagor who fought his own brother to save the clan.”
“Aye, he did.”
“Furthermore, he risked losin’ them all when he brought them out of harm’s way into this very glen.”
“‘Tis my favorite story, but I see not your point.”
“Michael, do you not have his same blood?”
“Aye.”
“Then you must do as he did and save your people no matter the cost to you.”
“Save them from what, precisely?”
“Grizel Allardice. She came for protection but time has passed and no lad comes to claim her back. Send her away afore ‘tis too late.”
Michael studied Diarmad’s serious eyes for a long moment. “‘Tis far more complicated than you know.”
“Aye, ‘tis complicated. The lasses are ready to rebel, the lads nearly went to swords, and Lindsey is dead. You dinna grant the Red sanctuary to begin with.”
Michael bowed his head “Does everyone know I gave no permission?”
“We know more than that. Do you not have Kester livin’ in the castle?”
Michael could not help but crack a smile, “What else do they know?”
“They know they want the Red gone, and so do I.”
“I cannae just send her away.”
“Nay, you cannae, but Neil knew there was more than one way to save a clan, and you know it too.” Abruptly, Diarmad turned and started back.
Michael watched the old man take his time walking to the village, noticed a few people still watching him, and turned back to look again at Neil’s headstone. Diarmad thought there was a lesson to be learned from Neil, but just now, Michael had no idea what it was. To relieve his aching foot, he sat down in the tall grass in front of the graveyard. The clan wanted Grizel gone and so did he, but how was he to rid them of her without breaking his oath to uphold the edict. Even if he could send her away, he could not send a MacGreagor child into the world unprotected.
What would Laird Neil MacGreagor do?
*
KENTIGERN MANOR, 1911
McKenna closed the book and looked at her husband. “I do not envy Michael.”
“Nor do I,” said Nicholas.
“What would you do?” Sarah asked.
“I know what I would do,” said cook Jessie. “I would do what Kester said – hang her and solve all their problems at once.”
“Not if she is with child,” McKenna said.
Jessie lightly bit her lower lip. “Very well, we shall wait until after the child is born and then hang her.”
Alistair laughed. “I have come to believe Kester is one of your ancestors.”
“And proud of it I would be if she was,” said Jessie.
“I have been thinking,” said Nicholas.
McKenna could not resist teasing her husband, “Oh no, not again.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “I have given considerable thought to the printing of the books. I fear a careless printer might ruin them, and whereas I have not enough to do these days, suppose I make a copy by hand.”
“And give that copy to the printer?” McKenna asked. “What a splendid idea.”
“‘Tis right dead brilliant,” said Alistair. “I could do some of the writin’ too.”
Sarah yawned and then got up. “I agree, but for now I am off to bed. Shall we not go see Lindsey’s bridge tomorrow?”
“This time, I wish to go with you,” said Jessie.
“Very well, but we have only four seats,” Nicholas reminded them. Since no one volunteered, he suspected he would have to stay home. He smiled, watched them climb the stairs, and when the last of the family went out of sight, he turned off the lights.
