Beloved Ruins, Book 1 Page 23

  MICHAEL’S FOOT STILL hurt when he finished dressing and went back downstairs. What he wanted most was to sit in his Great Hall and rest it for a spell. Instead, four angry women were waiting for him when he entered.

  “Welcome,” he said with a smile as he made his way to the seat at the head of the table. “Will you not sit?”

  “We come to complain,” said Agatha. Her hands were on her hips, her voice was steady, and her eyes were determined.

  As was the custom, he could not sit until they did so he asked again, “Will you not please be seated?” None of them moved, so he narrowed his eyes. “I command you to sit!” Instantly, each of them pulled a chair away from the table and did as they were told. The relief on Michael’s face was evident when he lowered his large frame into his chair, extended his legs, and placed his aching foot atop the other. “Now, what is it you wish to complain about?”

  The mother of ten, Ursula was the first to speak up, “The rain caused half our land to flood this mornin’.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” said Michael, “but why has your husband not come to tell me?”

  Ursula huffed. “He digs a ditch to let the water run off.”

  “Does your land not always flood in a heavy rain?” Michael asked.

  “I suppose...” she started to answer.

  “‘Tis a curse,” Siobhan interrupted, “and you well know who brung it.”

  Michael wrinkled his brow. “Who?”

  “Seona,” Siobhan spat, “and you well know it too. And there be a very strange black horse in the glen what belongs to no one. I say it...”

  Finalla could not wait to have her say, “Three days past, my Thomas nearly fell in the river. He would have drowned, surely”

  “And this mornin’ I found this,” said Agatha. She set a long stemmed red rose on the table next to Michael and then laid a pink one beside it. “‘Twas on the same bush, mind you. What have you to say to this?”

  Michael took his time and looked each of the women in the eye. “Am I to understand you think Seona has the power to turn a red rose to pink, to cause a child to fall in the river, and to make a field flood?”

  “She killed Lindsey as sure as I am sittin’ here,” Ursula shot back. “Everyone knows it.”

  “We want her gone.” In a huff, Siobhan folded her arms. “We want her gone this very day.”

  “I see, and what about the edict? Do you wish me to disregard the very thing that protects you from a cruel husband, father, or brother?” The muscles in his face tightened and his voice began to steadily rise. “Tell me true; do you wish me to send her to her death?”

  Finalla hung her head. “I do not, but my Adam...I mean, he...”

  She looked so distressed, Michael quickly softened his demeanor. “He what?”

  “Well, some say he might have...she could have...tempted him.”

  “You accuse Seona of beddin’ your husband?” Michael bluntly asked. “What answer did he give?”

  “He says he did not, but I dinna believe him.”

  “There, you see,” said Agatha. “Seona sews the spirit of mistrust amongst us all. She is evil, I tell you, evil to the bone.”

  “Have you any proof of Adam’s adultery?” Michael asked Finalla.

  “Well, no,” Finalla admitted, “but some say...”

  “Aye, and some say the stars are not where they should be in the sky, the cows moo louder beneath a full moon, and the water in the waterfall runs up instead of down on the third day of every month.” He realized he was speaking loud enough for half the clan to hear and calmed himself. “I say, you shall send those who have somethin’ to say to me, and let me hear the proof with my own ears. Until then, there is nothin’ to be done.”

  “Put a guard on her door at night,” Siobhan suggested.

  Michael was not yet quite over his anger, but he did not raise his voice. “Aye, and to whose husband shall I give that chore? Nay, I shall not hold her prisoner when you have no proof of her wrong doing.”

  “There is proof of her trickery with Owen and Murran,” Agatha argued.

  “What proof is that? Murran, whom I remind you is not married, was seen kissin’ her, and Owen walked into the forest with a lass – the name of whom no one knows. ‘Tis too little proof to hold her prisoner in this castle or any other.” As much as he hated to, Michael stood up. “When you have proof, I shall be more than pleased to hear your complaints. Until then, bother me not on this subject.” He waited while each of them stood, pushed the chairs back in place, and then left the Great Hall. As soon as the door closed, he sat back down, folded his arms on the table, and laid his head atop them. He could not remember being so tired and the day was not yet half over.

  Michael didn’t think he fell asleep, but he must have for when he raised his head, Kester was standing at the other end of the table watching him. “What complaint do you bring on a miserable day such as this?”

  “Are you unwell?” she asked.

  He couldn’t help himself and yawned. “Nay, I am merely in need of sound sleep.”

  “Perhaps you should go to bed. We can manage without you for a time.”

  “Perhaps I shall. First, why did you come to see me?”

  “Brenna wishes you to come.”

  “Has she a complaint as well?” Michael sarcastically asked.

  “Aye. ‘Tis a bee sting.”

  Michael felt bad about his behavior and instantly stood up. “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs in her bed.” Kester watched Michael hurry out the door, touched Birdie on the head, turned around, and headed outside. “Shall we not see what the clan is up to this day?”

  FOR SOME, A BEE STING was just a passing annoyance that healed in less than a week. For others, especially children, it was not only serious but could cause swelling in the throat and even death. Outside Brenna’s bedchamber door, Michael took a deep breath so the child would not see the concern on his face. Ready, he softly knocked and waited.

  “Come in,” he heard a weeping Brenna say. When he opened the door, Elena was sitting in a chair on the other side of Brenna’s bed and looked as though she might cry as well. He politely nodded, and then went to the child he found propped up on pillows on her bed. “I hear you sat on a bee?”

  There were huge tears in her eyes, but she managed a slight smile. “I dinna sit on it, it sat on me.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Michael. “Where did it sit on you?”

  She pushed out her lower lip and pointed to a place on her forearm. Halfway between her wrist and her elbow, the sting was already beginning to swell.

  Michael sat down on the bed beside her. “I was stung once.”

  “You were?”

  “Aye. My father took his knife and very, very gently removed the stinger. Shall I do that for you?”

  “Can you...without cuttin’ me, I mean?”

  He glanced at Elena and then returned his attention to the child. “Your mother would have my head if I cut you.”

  She was not that easily convinced, but just after another tear rolled down her cheek, she whispered, “Very well, you may try it.”

  Michael pulled his dagger and gently took hold of her hand. “Hold very still.” He raised her arm a little, so he could see the stinger and then very carefully scraped the skin until the stinger came out. When he was finished, he lowered her arm a little, and looked for a tiny black dot that would indicate the stinger had broken off. There was none. “That should do it.”

  “You cut your beard?” she asked as she wiped the tears off her cheeks with both hands.

  Michael showed off one side of his face and then the other. “Do you approve?”

  “You dinna look so silly now.”

  “Silly?” Michael playfully gasped.

  “Brenna, ‘tis unseemly to call a grown lad silly,” her mother scolded.

  “Yet, some lads are silly and I am sometimes one of them.” He leaded forward, kissed Brenna on the forehead, and then stood up. “Will you no
t wait right here for me?” As soon as she nodded, he hurried back out the door. A short time later, he returned, walked to her bed, and set a kitten in her lap.

  Brenna’s eyes brightened, “For me?”

  “Aye, but you must be the one to feed it, for that is how they learn who they belong to. And choose the perfect name. A name once given is a name for life.”

  “I shall,” she promised, “I surely shall.” Brenna let the kitten climb up her front, sit on her shoulder, and curl up in the warmth of her neck. In no time at all, the kitten was fast asleep.

  This time when Michael left, Elena walked out behind him. “Thank you, Michael.”

  He thought to take her into his arms, but they were so estranged lately, he feared her rejection. Instead, he looked deep into her eyes for a long moment. “Do you not know I would die for you and your children?” He waited, but she had nothing to say in return, so he could but walk away.

  WHAT ELENA WANTED MOST in the world was to be in his arms again. As soon as he was out of sight, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. He seemed to be saying he loved her, but then, he would die for all the others in his clan too. Still, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. He did love her and she loved him. They might even be happily married soon, if it were not for – Seona.

  Not wanting her child to be alone any longer, Elena went back in. The Kitten was sound asleep and so was Brenna, so she walked to the window to look out. The well-worn paths were nearly dry, people were standing in groups talking, and she smiled when she spotted Kester going from group to group. Furthermore, the lads were dressed in their kilts instead of their long pants, and now that she thought about it, so was Michael.

  She elected not to hear Michael’s speech, but now she was curious, so Elena was pleased when she saw Kester walk back to the castle. She opened the door to the children’s room and waited.

  “How does she do?” Kester whispered. Beitris had kindly carried Birdie up the stairs, and waited to see where Kester would go.

  “Michael removed the stinger and brought her a kitten,” Elena answered.

  “Good. Wait here a moment.” Kester slipped into her bedchamber and came back holding the hourglass Lindsey gave her. She went in, found a chair and sat down. Beitris set Birdie on the floor beside Kester, and smiled when the dog curled up and went right to sleep.

  “Bless you,” Kester whispered. She waited until Beitris was gone and then set the hourglass on the table and watched as the grains of sand began to pour into the empty side. “I thought Brenna might like watchin’ it.”

  Elena quietly moved a second chair close to Kester’s and sat. “That is very kind of you.”

  “Where might Samuel be?”

  “Outside with the other children.” Elena thoughtfully folded her hands in her lap. “What did Michael tell the clan?”

  “All of it – who she truly is and that she claims to be with child.”

  “He told them that too?”

  “Aye. Between the two of them Murran would be the one to do right by Seona. Then again, she deserves the grumpy Owen.”

  “What if she refuses to marry either of them?” Elena asked.

  “What if she married a MacGreagor and is not truly with child?” Kester asked. “I see no swellin’ in her stomach. Of course, if ‘tis a MacGreagor child, ‘tis too soon.”

  “How I pray she is not with child. Would Beitris not know for certain?” Elena thoughtfully asked. “Has Seona not suffered sickness of a mornin’?”

  Kester scoffed, “Seona has not seen a mornin’ since she came to us.”

  “True, but perhaps that is why.”

  IT WAS BALRIC WHO WENT looking for Michael and found him in the Great Hall. He knocked and then stuck his head in the door. “If you need an ear to hear, I am available.”

  At last, Michael’s foot had stopped hurting. He waived Balric in and then sighed. “Do you know why Elena wants nothin’ to do with me lately?”

  “She’s not said a word to me, and I suspect that is not your biggest problem.”

  “Aye, but that one plagues me most.”

  Balric was amazed. “You are in love with my sister?”

  “I am, but she does not encourage me.”

  “Perhaps she is afraid of losin’ another husband.”

  “Or perhaps I have erred in some way,” said Michael. “If only I knew what has upset her, I could set it right somehow.”

  “Give her time. I know she fancies you, I have seen it in her eyes. She will come to you when she is ready.”

  “If I dinna go daft first.” He shrugged and then motioned for Balric to sit. “The council shall meet shortly. Care to stay?”

  “I would indeed, as an observer, naturally.”

  Right on schedule, there came a knock on the door and Rory ushered the members of the council in. This time, Murran was asked to join elder Diarmad, Brandon, Owen and Michael’s second in command, Rory.

  “What say you?” Michael asked after each of them found a place to sit at the table. “Will the lads fight to keep Seona out of harm?”

  “I say we find this Osgar lad and make him come get her,” said Owen.

  “I simply want it over with so we may build my shop,” said Brandon.

  Elder Diarmad quietly put in, “With the hearth on the north and not the south end. The north is far colder than the south.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. “Yet, the fire will last longer if ‘tis built in the south end. Everyone knows that.”

  “Lads,” Michael interrupted. “Perhaps we might discuss the hearth later?”

  “Perhaps I dinna need Diarmad’s advice, too,” Brandon shot back.

  Frustrated, Michael glanced at the smile on Rory’s face and tried his best not to smile back. “Will the lads fight or not?”

  “They will fight,” Owen answered, “if you command it. The question is – will you command it?”

  Michael closed his eyes for a moment. “I have no choice but to uphold the edict. Aye, if I must I will command it. Have you any questions?”

  Rory cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat a little. “‘Tis about Lindsey’s bridge?”

  “What about it?” his laird asked.

  “Michael, I know not how to build a bridge.”

  In spite of all their pending troubles, all of them laughed, even Michael. “When all is settled, I shall go with you to find a lad to instruct us.”

  Rory’s eyes lit up. “Splendid. What would you have us do?”

  “First,” Michael began, “send lads up on the hills to warn us as soon as they see the Kennedys or the MacKintosh comin’. Owen, we have few fighters as good as you. See that the lads are well armed and ready. We shall forego practice for a time so as not to tire ourselves. Brandon, gather the lasses and make certain they know what to do. Tell them to set all their water buckets outside so they shall be easily got in case of fire.”

  “And me?” asked Diarmad.

  “You, I put in charge of prayer and beg you to say plenty of it.” Michael appreciated the elder’s nod. “And see that Kester dinna try to do the fightin’.”

  “Are we to heat the oil for the pots?” Brandon asked.

  “We have no oil for the pots and have not had in years,” Michael answered. “I am not even certain where the pots are.”

  “In the root cellars,” Owen muttered, “with roots in them.”

  Rory sighed. “Apparently, with no pots of hot oil, we shall be in need of a miracle.”

  LAIRD CONALL MACKINTOSH was a different sort of man. He drank neither wine nor ale, not for any religious reason, but because he never learned to like it. An older man, his speckle gray beard and hair made his blue eyes seem all the brighter. An outdoorsman for the most part, his excellent marksmanship with a bow and arrow was admired throughout all of Scotland. It was that skill alone that helped him conquer the position of laird when the former produced no sons. He, on the other hand, had ten sons and two daughters, although it took three wives to accomp
lish it.

  Clan MacKintosh was smaller than most, with far less in the way of wealth than the more prosperous Swintons, MacGreagors, and Kennedys. What they did have was a river with plenty of fish, the same river that wound its way between the hills, past the land of the MacGreagors and then rushed on to the sea. It was at the river’s edge that MacKintosh spent a good deal of his time fishing. Instead of waiting for a fish to get hungry enough to fall for a baited hook, he found spearing them challenging and his sporadic success exhilarating.

  Fishing kept him out of his small keep, which, with so many children, was prone to get crowded more often than not. Furthermore, fishing allowed him time to think and on his mind was the plot to take Dalldon’s daughter from Laird MacGreagor, return her to her father, and collect the reward.

  He and Laird Kennedy agreed to bring fifty warriors each, meet at the ancient Roman bridge in three days, and ride to the MacGreagor glen together. If Michael admitted he had Seona, they would simply relieve him of her – unless Michael was stupid enough to fight to keep her. There was that. Furthermore, the more MacKintosh thought about it, the more he considered the bargain struck between him and Kennedy grossly unfair. Kennedy needed the money far less than MacKintosh and would likely squander his half.

  MacKintosh pulled his spear back, aimed, and struck a mighty blow into the side of a ten inch fish. With one end of the twine wrapped around the end of the spear and the other around his wrist, he began to pull his prize to the side of the river.

  Indeed, MacKintosh needed the entire reward for himself.

  IN THE OLD DAYS, THE Kennedys were a very large and proud clan, more often than not at war with their neighbors, the Swintons. Even after their numbers dropped during the English occupation, the plague, and the many battles fought to free Scotland, they remained strong and most clans did their best to stay on the good side of the Kennedys. Laird Kennedy feared no one, and had a formidable number of followers, including men good with swords as well as bows and arrows. None of his warriors were as good as MacKintosh, but good just the same.