Beloved Lies, Book 2 Read online

  “Me too.” Berry was quiet for a change and Donnan noticed. “You fear Moyra Graham shall somehow choose you after all?”

  “I fear what Laird Graham shall do if I am forced to deny her.”

  Donnan couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “Yet, if Graham demanded a weddin’ to keep from fightin’, would you not do it for the sake of the clan?”

  “I would consider it – for several months or perhaps years.”

  This time, Donnan laughed out loud. “Tell the clan to expect the Kennedys come Sunday and tell the council we meet here tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

  Berry stood up, nodded, and left the room. Almost immediately, Jamie came running in, dashed to the side of his father’s chair, and said, “Mother said you are to charge me not to go near a red fox.”

  “And did she say why?” asked Donnan.

  “What is rabies?”

  “Tis a terrible plague that makes a laddie go daft just before he dies.”

  Jamie gulped. “The laddies die?”

  “Aye. Do you give me your pledge to stay in the glen and not go near any animal that looks like it might be daft?”

  “I give you my pledge.”

  Donnan was tired and hungry, but there was one more chore that needed to be done before he could go to supper. “Did your mother not send you to me for another reason as well?”

  Jamie hung his head. “Oh, that.”

  “Kayleigh’s doll is ruined, is it not? Have I not told you water spoils the clay, and have I not said not to bedevil your sister?”

  “She would not help me.”

  “Help you what?” Jamie took a step back and then pointed to the side of his pants with both thumbs.

  “I see. Yet, your sister is not obliged to always help you.”

  “Why not?”

  “She is your sister, not your maid.”

  Jamie did not like that explanation one bit. “But I need her for nothin’ more than to tie my drawstrings.”

  “You might someday.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “‘Tis doubtful.”

  Donnan put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You must always be kind to a lass, even if she is your sister.”

  “Father, she is not a lass.”

  “She shall be, and ‘tis up to you to keep her safe.”

  “Me?”

  “Aye. ‘Tis up to all lads to keep the lasses and the children safe.” He paused, but his son seemed to have nothing more to say. “You have disobeyed me. What punishment shall I give?”

  “The lads disobey and you dinna punish them.”

  Donnan raised an eyebrow. “What lads?”

  “The ones that play futeball. They dinna obey uncle either.”

  “I see. What punishment should I give the lads then?”

  Jamie considered that for quite some time. “Send them to bed without supper.”

  “I must keep them fed or they cannae do the work.”

  “You send me to bed without supper.”

  “Aye, and your mother takes you a bowl when she thinks I am not lookin’.”

  Jamie did not think his father knew that. “Even she dinna obey you.”

  Donnan had a feeling he was losing this battle. “Tis different, she is my wife.” Before Jamie could ask about that, he continued, “Tomorrow, you shall stay with me.” Jamie looked delighted until Donnan went on, “You are to sit here while I write in my journal.”

  “What sort of journal?”

  “A laird must keep count of the animals, the births and the deaths, the food baskets in the cellars, the horses, the cows, the...”

  “What shall I do while you write?”

  “You shall sit at the other end of the table.”

  “And count what?”

  “Nothin’...you are to do nothin’. You may not speak, you may not play, and you may not sleep. Perhaps then you shall regret throwin’ your sister’s doll in the water.” He watched the sadness on his son’s face. Perhaps he was winning after all. “Is supper ready? I could eat a bear.”

  “Me too.” Jamie spun around and ran to open the door for his father. “When I am Laird, shall you open the door for me?”

  Donnan rolled his eyes. “Shall we not eat, Jamie?” He grabbed hold of the side of the door and let Jamie run out ahead of him.

  AT DAWN, THE MACGREAGOR men began to search the woods for the fox’s den, while others checked all the animals and made certain the farmers were aware of the danger.

  Not about to let her go to the market alone, Cullen waited for Annella to get her cheese basket from the cellar, and then helped her mount her horse. As they rode toward town, she seemed unusually quiet, but he thought nothing of it. To keep her safe, he walked his horse in front of her and kept a close eye on the undergrowth beneath the trees and around the bushes. As soon as she was safely delivered, he wished her well and then rode swiftly off to warn the neighboring clans about the rabies. If he had looked back, he would have seen the disappointed look on her face – but he did not look back.

  There was a time when the brother of a laird needed a guard to protect him, but with the English pushed back and without a clan war to worry about, guards had become more of a tradition than a necessity. Yet, the method of spreading news had not changed. Nothing worked as well in cases such as this as the tried and true miracle of gossip, and Cullen was counting on this sort of news spreading more quickly than most.

  IN THE GREAT HALL, keeping the clan’s journal current was the first thing Donnan did each day and on this day, the report of a rabid fox and two colts given to Graham needed to be noted first thing. For years, the MacGreagors learned, and then taught the next generation how to read, write, and count. Jamie especially liked learning with the other children, so having to sit with his father even for a little while was a true punishment.

  Just as his father said he must, Jamie sat in his Uncle’s chair at the other end of the long table from his father and waited. At first, he sat up straight and was very attentive. He watched his father write something, although he could not see what, and then write something else. The room was so quiet, he could hear the fire in the hearth crackle behind him, so he turned around to watch. Soon, he turned enough so he could sit sideways in the chair and see the entire hearth, though he had to peek around the solid back of the chair. Uncomfortable sitting that way, he scooted forward until his bottom was on the edge of the side, and that satisfied him for a time, but then...

  “Jamie, sit up.”

  It scared him so, he slid off the chair completely and had to climb back on. “Father...”

  “No talkin’.”

  “But...”

  “Did I not say no talkin’?”

  Jamie puffed his cheeks. Afraid to say anything more, he simply nodded. He composed himself and sat up straight facing forward for clearly an eternity, before he folded his arms one way and then folded them the other. He scooted forward, remembered himself, and then scooted back. After that, he began to run first his right hand, then his left hand, and after that, both hands across the smoothness of the table surface. Naturally, he could not reach the edge on either side, so he inched forward just enough to put his foot on the floor and...

  “Sit still!” Donnan commanded.

  Why had his mother not yet come to rescue him, Jamie wondered. He scooted back, folded his hands in his lap and sat still. There was only one thing left to do and that was to swing his feet back and forth under the chair. Unfortunately, he hit the legs of the chair a time or two and when his father abruptly stood up, Jamie’s eyes widened.

  Donnan went to the small table, picked up the hourglass, turned it over, and set it in front of his son. “When all the sand falls to the bottom, you may go.”

  That pleased Jamie very much. At least there was an end to his unthinkable misery. It was called an hourglass for a reason, but he did not know that. He kept his eyes glued to the slowly falling grains of sand, watched and watched, hoped and wished, but there seemed to be nothing he could d
o to make the sand fall any faster. He put both his arms on the table and then rested his chin on his hands. Soon, his eyes grew heavy and Jamie fell fast asleep.

  When he noticed, Donnan smiled. Jamie’s punishment, he decided was harder on him than it was on his son, so he let the boy sleep.

  AT THE MARKET, ANNELLA did her share of spreading the word about the rabid fox too. Some of the visiting clans immediately sent someone to take a warning home, and therefore the miracle of gossip worked in everyone’s favor yet again.

  Finished, she retrieved her chair from the shop and when she looked around Tavis Kennedy waved and pointed to an empty space next to his table. Annella hesitated. She was practically betrothed and should not...then again, there were days when Cullen did not seem to know she was alive, as evidenced that very morning, when he favored her with neither a warm touch or a kiss. Besides, she saw no other place to put her chair.

  At length, she smiled and when she walked to him, he relieved her of her chair, set it down, and worked the legs into the dirt until it was firmly set. “I thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” He folded his arms. “Are you well?”

  “Very. Did you hear about the fox?”

  “What fox?” he asked.

  “The one that fell in our glen. The lads think it rabid.”

  “I best go tell Laird Kennedy.”

  “Cullen has already gone to tell them.”

  “Good.” He brought a chair for himself this time and sat behind his table not far from her.

  She was about to say something when a woman interrupted her.

  “Is it true, about the rabies I mean?” she asked.

  “Aye,” Annella answered. “Eimhir said it had the look of the devil in its eyes.”

  The woman visibly shivered. “I best go home.”

  Tavis watched the woman hurriedly make her way through the shoppers and then disappear. “If that be the judge, afore long the market shall be empty.”

  Annella sighed. “I would not mind a day of rest.”

  “Nor would I. What would you do if you had a whole day to do as you please?”

  “You mean if there were no foxes in the woods with rabies?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, there is a very pleasant waterfall up river from our village. I would go there, wade in the pool, and just be alone with my thoughts for a time.”

  “I know that waterfall. ‘Tis indeed pleasant.” He waited on two customers, listened as others asked Annella about rabies and then said, “I hear the Kennedys have been invited to a feast in your glen come Sunday.”

  “I hear that too. Laird MacGreagor means to challenge the Kennedys at archery. Are you very practiced?”

  “Not as practiced as I should be.”

  “Nor are our lads.”

  “What else are we to do at this feast?” Tavis asked.

  She giggled, “Eat, drink and tell lies.”

  Standing behind them, Moyra Graham heard every word. “A MacGreagor feast,” she whispered. With a particular glint in her eye, she went to find her father.

  Annella just remembered the coat she had her eye on the day before, stood up and looked at the tables on her side of the narrow street and then on the other side. “Is the lass with the clothin’ not here this day?”

  “The one next to you yesterday?”

  “Aye.” Still, she could not see the woman or her table, so Annella returned to her seat.

  “I hope you had not your eye on somethin’. I bought them for Kennedys with little to wear now that their homes have burned.”

  “How very splendid of you.”

  He chuckled. “I am known far and wide for being splendid – on occasion.”

  “And a braggart?” she teased.

  “On occasion.”

  “I meant to ask about the Kennedys yesterday. I hear many died in the fire.”

  “Not as many as we might have lost, had the MacGreagors not come to help. I saw you bringin’ horses for your lads. I thought that splendid of you.”

  “Did you?” Annella paused to sell two cheese rounds and then continued. “I had not thought how they must have lost clothing. Perhaps the MacGreagors...”

  “I thank you, but we can manage.”

  She understood. “Yet, if we can help...”

  “Are you not going to feed us and tell us lies come Sunday? A day of rest is precisely what we need most.”

  For the first time, she noticed he was not displaying the horse’s jeweled breast plate she admired so much. “You sold it?”

  “‘Twas the oddest thing. Laird Swinton bought it and paid precisely the price the Swinton lass asked for the clothin’.”

  Annella quickly caught on, gave Tavis a knowing smile, and let her pleasing dimples show.

  THREE TABLES DOWN AND across the busy avenue, Cullen sat on his horse watching. She looked happy and had she been talking to anyone other than a Kennedy, he might have been jealous. He reasoned that Tavis Kennedy was certainly not a threat to his happiness, so he turned his horse and hurried home to attend the council meeting.

  ANNELLA COULD NOT REMEMBER a time when she so enjoyed talking to a man other than her father. Not once did she see Cullen or even imagine he had been there, for he never came to the market except to ride home with her. Even that did not happen often. Tavis Kennedy was different, and between customers he told her stories about his childhood. He even got her to tell him an embarrassing thing or two that she had done as a child. Indeed, talking to Tavis was the most fun she had seen in a long, long time.

  AS USUAL, THE MEN LIVING near the castle together with two or three from Glenartair village attended the council meetings in the Great Hall. All the chairs around the table were filled, except for the one reserved for Cullen. Berry sat next to his laird, poured himself a goblet of wine, and passed the pitcher down. Isabell had the cooks bake honey bread buns and in no time at all, each of two platters were completely empty. At last, the men settled down and paid attention to their laird.

  “Can you not do somethin’ about Carson?” Armadal asked.

  “Of what does he complain this day?” Donnan asked.

  “He insists the tables of the other clans block his door and therefore the people cannae come in.”

  “Have we not heard this complaint before?” Donnan asked.

  “Aye, we have.” Armadal answered.

  “Tell Carson if he has a remedy other than shootin’ all the other clans, I am willin’ to hear it. Until then, I shall hear no more of his complaints.” Donnan nodded when Cullen came in and waited until his brother took his place at the far end of the table. “You have warned the other clans?”

  “Aye,” Cullen answered, “and they shall spread the word. Did the lads find a den?”

  “We did,” Gordon answered. “The mate was already dead. We killed the pups and buried them all.”

  “‘Tis the merciful thing to do,” said Donnan. “Until this too passes, tell the lads to keep themselves well-armed. For the feast, set guards around the glen with bows and arrows at the ready. ‘Tis more work for everyone, but we cannae risk it. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” said all of the other men.

  “All is arranged for the feast, but ‘tis up to the lads to set the hog to cookin’ in the pit.”

  “I shall see to it today,” said Craig.

  Donnan nodded his appreciation and then directed a specific question to the shop owners. “‘Tis up to us to protect Glenartair village as well. Have you enough lads?”

  “Aye,” said Armadal.

  “Good. “Come Sunday, see that everyone comes to the feast, for there shall be few there to protect them from...”

  “Leave our shops unprotected?” Armadal asked. “There are thieves among us.”

  “Then leave enough lads to protect the shops, but I fear a rabid dog or fox more. Have them all come to the feast so we can see to their safety.”

  “Most want to come anyway,” said Craig.

  “Good. I ask that you bri
ng chairs from town for our guests. I am expectin’ many Kennedys, for they are in much need of a day of rest.” Donnan paused to change the subject. “Since we are to challenge them at archery, perhaps the lads shall practice for once?”

  “Must we?” Flannagan asked. He looked at the frown on Donnan’s face and then lowered his gaze. “I feared as much.”

  “What else?” Donnan asked.

  “I have decided to herd sheep,” Cullen said.

  Everyone was amazed, especially Flannagan. “With what sheep?”

  “I think to buy five ewes from you. I hear you are a reasonable lad and shall ask a fair price.”

  Flannagan clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “From me? I have but twenty-two as it is.”

  “Three then?”

  “Three? Three will not do. I shall sell you four.”

  Cullen wrinkled his brow. “Four – but not five or three?”

  “An uneven number of sheep is a plague on a poor shepherd.”

  Cullen still did not understand. “‘Tis the first I heard of that.”

  “Everyone knows that,” Flannagan scoffed. “Where have you been, lad?”

  Said Beathag, “Never have I heard it and I have tended sheep these ten years.”

  “Well, ‘tis true, right enough,” said Flannagan. “A sheepdog cannae count but by twos, and if there is but one left, they run off huntin’ for the other.”

  The men slowly started to laugh and as the laughter grew, they stood up to leave. Cullen laughed so hard he had to hold his sides. Flannagan, on the other hand, pretended not to see the humor in it, which made him laugh even harder.

  “You truly are daft,” Cullen finally managed to say.

  Flannagan threw up his hands. “So my wife tells me daily.”

  “Lillian is right.”

  THANKFULLY, WHEN SUNDAY morning came the weather was still good. The colorful leaves in the trees were breathtaking, the smell of ham slow cooking in the pit made more than one mouth water, and boys not yet of age were given the chore of keeping the dogs and cats out of everyone’s way. As Donnan commanded, ten well-armed men stood guard at various places around the outskirts of the glen, keeping a watch out for animals that might do the children or other animals harm. So far, neither a fox nor a gray wolf ventured close to the village and most were beginning to relax just in time to celebrate an especially plentiful harvest.