Beloved Secrets, Book 3 Page 7

  Even if Shaw seriously objected to living under Hendry’s rule, he had not the energy to fret over that just now. “Will you not help me walk to the loch?”

  “Indeed I shall, and I have no doubt there shall be many a lass to wash you, if you desire it.”

  Shaw rolled his eyes. “There is nothin’ wrong with my hands. I shall not need help washin’, but perhaps standin’ that long in the water might be bothersome.”

  “If that be the case, we shall let you sit upon the rock and dump buckets of water on your head.” Glenna MacGreagor was rewarded with another smile. She helped him stand and fetched the cane for him, but before he got to the door, she touched his shoulder and made him look back. “Take care, for Hendry cannae be trusted. Jamie should never have made Hendry his third in command for he now believes himself chosen. Look what we have now – a laird who is accustomed to doin’ little more than fetchin’ or carryin’ messages for Jamie. I doubt Hendry even knows how to count.”

  Shaw slyly grinned. “Bruce once said ‘twas because Jamie wished not to let Hendry out of his sight.” He could tell by the surprised expression on her face that Glenna had never considered that. He let his aunt open the door for him and for the first time in days, Shaw stepped into the sunlight.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT felt good on Shaw’s face. His aunt was right. The more he walked, the more his leg seemed to limber up. She carried a blanket to wrap around him after his bath and stayed near in case he started to fall, but the cane was all he truly needed. Each step was painful and the exercise caused him to breathe deeper, which hurt his ribs. Even so, he kept going, taking one slow step after another until he tired and had to stop for a moment.

  When he looked, there was not a man in sight and women tending chores and keeping after their children, stopped what they were doing, and watched him. Some nodded a greeting, some looked away, and one or two appeared resentful that he lived while their men perished. He did not blame them for he dearly wished Bruce had lived instead.

  Shaw tried not to, but when he got to the path that led to the loch, he turned to look at the graveyard. Fresh dirt at the end of what he always thought was a peaceful and pleasant place to be buried, was now a blatant reminder of a terrible battle he wished to forget. MacGreagor men were taught not to cry for it clouded the vision and could cost a man his life. That did not stop the ache in his heart, especially since he knew not precisely who lived and who died. Therefore, when Skye came to walk beside him, he could not help but ask, “Which came back?”

  At thirteen, she still had freckles and was far more interested in him than he was in her. “Are you not happy to see me?”

  “Aye.” He was happy to see anyone at all, but he did not tell her that.

  “Well, Conall and Edan came back not long after you and only Edan is recovered enough to help with the work. Conall suffered a terrible wound to the chest and has the fever still. ‘Tis not certain he shall live much longer but he must, for we have no others willin’ to collect honey from the hives.” she stopped to think for a moment. “Several came and died soon after. ‘Twas an awful... Anyway, Dan was the last to come home after you that same day. He came much later in the night and brought two dead home with him. He will not leave his bed, though the lump on his head has gone down and he be not terribly wounded otherwise. He has spoken not a word. Perhaps he...”

  “Who else?” Shaw interrupted as he continued to take more painful steps toward the water.

  Skye twirled a lock of red hair with the tips of her fingers. “Well, Parlan and Cuthbert were home when I awoke the next mornin’. They soon went back to look for Jamie and the others.”

  “Which came back afore me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hendry was the first, to no one’s surprise. Then came Irving, Brodie, Colla, and Beathan. I forget who else, for when the lads brought my father... Never mind all that. Some of our horses found their way home and are we not glad of it. At least we dinna have that worry and perhaps we might sell a horse or two when times get hard.”

  “Evander?” he asked.

  “He came back after you and suffered ghastly bruises to his face. He has a few cuts, but not deep like yours. We have yet to bring in the last of the harvest and he has gone off to help, even though he hurts some to do it. ‘Tis mostly up to the lasses now, you know. Of course, we shall have plenty to eat now that so many lads are...” Skye paused to take a deep breath. “Two more are still in bed just as you have been.”

  “Where are the lads now?”

  “The ones in good health?” she waited for his nod before she continued. “Well, they are in the gardens bringin’ in the last of the vegetables. Once those are stored, they mean to cut wood. The animals warn of a harsh winter and we must be prepared. I hate winter, do you not? I can never get my feet warm.”

  At last, he made it to a large rock at the edge of the water, sat down, and released his held breath. Glenna gave him a few minutes to rest and then helped him off with his shirt.

  Skye gasped when she saw the large bruise on his chest. “Are your ribs broken?”

  “We think not,” Glenna answered.

  “Good, for a broken rib can kill a lad. Shaw, we lost our only cobbler and two shepherds. Their wives are herders now, though they know not precisely what must be done, and dread the time when the lambs are born. How shall we ever do all the shearin’? I think we might do better to barter sheep for shoes in town.” She watched as Shaw took off his right shoe and examined the bottom. “Then again, perhaps our shoes shall last through winter and by then we shall have a new cobbler to mend our old ones.”

  Before Shaw could lift his injured leg to take off his left shoe, Glenna knelt down and did it for him. He examined the soul of that one too and guessed it would do.

  “You shall grow some still,” Glenna reminded him.

  “Mother says,” Skye continued, “I shall not grow much more, and are we not all grateful for that? I know how to fish at least. We have not yet dried the meat for winter and now that our best hunters have passed, we must be content with cow’s meat. I shall not mind it, but most prefer the meat of the red deer. Of course, we shall hunt rabbits in winter if we lasses are taught how to shoot better and...” Skye finally stopped talking and looked toward the gardens where her mother was waving her over. “I best go, but I shall come see you later.” She smiled when he nodded, and then hurried across the tall grass to the garden plots.

  Shaw watched her go and counted twelve men, three of whom would soon be considered elders and too unhealthy to work a full day. There were women too, digging in the earth and filling a row of baskets with vegetables. Other men were carrying the baskets toward the cellars to be stored. Some of the vegetables would not make it through winter, he supposed, but that was usually the case anyway. For a moment he looked up at the clear blue sky. Hopefully, they could finish reaping the gardens before the heavy rains came. “Barter sheep for shoes?” he muttered.

  “Aye, leave it to Skye to think of such things. She has a talent for seeing the good while others see only the bad.”

  “Her father and uncle dinna live?”

  “Nay and she has grieved her share, though seeing you seems to have raised her spirits. Now, there is but her, three younger, and her mother. ‘Tis the same in many a MacGreagor family this day.”

  Shaw was starting to feel a little guilty for lying in bed so long. “I forgot about the harvest.”

  “We are grateful the king held off his battle until most of the harvest was in.”

  At last, Shaw did not hold back his bitterness. “I should be far more grateful, had he not called us to battle in the first place.”

  “There is nothin’ we can do about that now. Perhaps the next king shall...”

  “Perhaps we are better served without a king.” It was treason to say such a thing, and when his aunt looked pained, he said no more.

  Shaw’s favorite time to bathe was at night when he could take all his clothes off, but
in daytime he left his kilt on and slowly walked into the loch. The water was harshly cold, and sent a chill up his spine. Even so, after a moment or two it felt good and soon he was deep enough to submerge and get his shoulder length, dark blond hair wet. He easily caught the chunk of soap his aunt tossed to him, and began to wash.

  “Dinna stay in too long for the sake of your leg.”

  In front of her only remaining relative, Glenna hid her bitterness too, but when Shaw was busy washing she looked up at the castle. Instead of helping with the harvest, Hendry stood in the window of the north tower watching everyone else do the work. There was no mistaking it was him, even though she could not see his face clearly, for his hair was nearly white. White hair, particularly since Hendry was only a few years older than Shaw, was unusual but not unheard of in the MacGreagor clan. Speaking treason was exactly the kind of thing Hendry would use against any man he did not like and he did not like Shaw especially. She watched Hendry for a time more and then looked away.

  By the time Glenna gave her attention back to Shaw, he was rinsing the soap out of his hair and looked eager to get out. As soon as he did, she held the blanket loosely around him, and waited while he took off his wet kilt. He handed it to her, tied the blanket around his waist, and then sat down on the rock to rest and let the sun dry his hair. Glenna wrung the water out of his woolen kilt, and then found a rock of her own to sit on.

  “’Twas cold,” said he.

  She laughed. “Aye.”

  Shaw did not often look up at the third floor of the north tower for it was from there his mother fell to her death. It was an accident, he was told. Because of it, his aunt preferred that he never go up those steps and indeed, not even go inside the castle if he could avoid it. So far, he had avoided it very well.

  “You look more like your father every day.”

  “Do I,” Shaw asked. His changing voice cracked, but he ignored the irritation of it. His wet hair was beginning to curl ever so slightly as it dried and would soon be practically unmanageable if he did not comb it and tie it back. “What more have you to say about him?”

  “Other than he loved your mother very much, and never recovered from the loss of her?” She waited for Shaw’s nod. “Well, he was tall and the handsomest lad I ever did see. He loved you and Bruce too, but then you already know that.”

  “I mean, what was he like?”

  She smiled. “He had a deep pleasant voice which he never raised, save to warn of danger. I suspect your voice shall be the same when you are older.”

  “What else?”

  “Well, he was wise, although far from perfect.” Remembering the past, Glenna giggled. “He had a devil of a time gettin’ my sister to marry him.”

  “Far from perfect in what way?”

  She frowned, and took a moment to wring more water out of his kilt before she answered. “He failed to see the evil among us.”

  She reached in her pocket, pulled out Shaw’s comb, and handed it to him. “Your father got the cough and although we tried many a remedy, Ludovic dinna recover.” She reached in her pocket again, retrieved a string, and held on to it until he was ready to tie his hair.

  Shaw was still combing the tangles out when Effie approached. She knelt near the water’s edge and washed the dirt off her hands. “You are better, I see,” she said as she got up and wiped her hands on her skirt. “I be one of the few with a husband still, but I might as well be alone. My Dan has yet to say a word. Will you see to him?”

  Shaw thought first to decline, but if anyone understood why Dan would not speak, he did. “Aye.”

  Relieved, Effie clasped her hands together. “You can make him well, I know you can.”

  “Effie,” Glenna said, “you must not lay such a burden on Shaw. He is...”

  “We are countin’ on him to take his brother’s place, and you know it as well as I,” Effie shot back.

  Glenna dropped her gaze. “Aye, but he is not well.”

  “Is Dan yet in his bed?” Shaw asked, ignoring his aunt.

  “Aye,” Effie answered.

  He put on his right shoe and let Glenna put on his other. “Very well.” Shaw picked up his wet kilt and then spread it over the rock he had been sitting on to dry. “I shall see him alone, then.”

  “Aye.” Effie quickly picked the cane up off the ground, handed it to Shaw, and then moved out of the way so he could walk up the path.

  Going uphill was even more of a challenge, and he was forced to rest twice before he got to the end of the path. Shaw limped past one cottage and then another before he reached the third, opened the door without knocking and went in.

  The room was dark and when Shaw left the door open to let in the light, Dan quickly covered his eyes with his hand and then turned on his side so that his back was to the intruder. Time and time again Shaw had watched his brother encourage a man to do the right thing, but just now he was not at all certain he could, especially since Dan was five years older than him. Shaw laid his cane across the top of the table and started to fold his arms across his chest – until it hurt his sore ribs and he thought better of it. Just now, he missed his older brother more desperately than in all the days after the battle. Bruce always spoke with authority and with reason, so when Shaw came up with something to say, he tried to mimic his brother’s tone of voice, “Let it not be said that a MacGreagor lie useless in his bed.”

  Dan slowly turned to see who it was and looked a little surprised to see Shaw. Still, he said nothing.

  “I have heard it said that if a lad shall not work, he shall not eat.” That made Dan slightly wrinkle his brow but still he had no response. “Perhaps you wish to die. If that be the case, far be it for me to prevent it. Therefore, once the work is done and the first snow cometh, you may keep to your bed and starve to death. Until then, you shall work and be glad of it.” His harsh command surprised even him, but it did little good. Dan just stared at the ceiling.

  Annoyed, Shaw retrieved his cane and poked Dan in the side. He poked him again and again, and at first Dan just tried to inch away. But Shaw was persistent and by the time he was backed as close to the wall as possible, Dan finally got angry. He grabbed the end of the cane and tried to take it away, but Shaw would not let go. Dan jerked and jerked the cane, until he found it futile, and finally let go of it. He repeatedly pushed the end of the cane aside, and sat up, but still Shaw poked him. His anger soon turned to spite and then to rage. He gritted his teeth, threw his blanket off, and got out of bed. He hunched his shoulders, doubled his fists, glared at his opponent, and got ready to fight.

  Shaw finally lowered the cane. “You would fight me?”

  Dan blinked a couple of times. As if he suddenly realized what he was about to do, he slumped his shoulders, took a deep breath and released his anger.

  In response, Shaw lowered his voice, “We lost the stonecutter, shepherds, the cobbler, the beekeeper, and many more. The lads, what few live, are bringin’ in the last of the harvest and you are sorely needed to help.”

  At last, Dan nodded.

  “Good.” Shaw started to leave and then turned back. “She is a good lass.”

  “Who,” Dan asked.

  “Your wife.” With that, Shaw walked out of the cottage.

  HE WAS NOT SURPRISED to find Glenna outside Dan’s cottage waiting for him. She must have heard the ruckus inside, but she only smiled a knowing smile and walked beside him as they headed home. His tussle with Dan made his rips hurt anew, but he decided not to worry his aunt about it. There was nothing to be done anyway.

  Once inside their cottage, Glenna turned her back so he could change into his warm shirt and long pants, and then urged him to sit down to rest. “The more you do, the stronger you shall be,” she said. “I have often...”

  “Wee love, I could use a bit more ale.”

  “Of course you could.” She lifted the pitcher off the table and filled his goblet. “As I was sayin’, I have often...”

  Glenna was interrupted when Lorna kn
ocked and then opened the door and stuck her head in. “His majesty has summoned us to the courtyard.”

  “Now?” Glenna asked.

  “Nay, at sundown. Hendry commands all of us to come, save those still unable.”

  Glenna sarcastically said, “How kind of him to let the dyin’ keep to their beds.”

  “No kinder laird have we ever had,” Lorna scoffed. “The lasses talk of refusin’ to cook and clean in the castle.” Lorna turned to look at something, and then turned back. “I best go help with the milkin’. I dread it, but the younger lasses are needed to do the heavy liftin’ in the gardens.” She nodded, and then off she went.

  After she was gone, Shaw asked, “Why do they refuse to work in the castle?”

  “Why do you suppose?”

  “I would rather you tell me.”

  “Hendry has not a kind word to say to them – he dinna thank them for their labors and says he shall pay them later. If I know Hendry, and I know him well, later shall never come.”

  “When were they last paid?”

  “Jamie owed for a month complete before he went off to battle and I fear Hendry has no intention of honorin’ Jamie’s debts. We all fear it.”

  “Surely Hendry knows he must pay Jamie’s debts,” said Shaw.

  “Does he? To whom do we complain? Our dead king or the one not yet out of his cradle?” Glenna shook her head and sunk into the chair on the other side of the table. “Hendry drinks day and night and thinks himself king over all the land. Ask Skye about Hendry. She knows all too well what he is truly like.” Glenna got up and put another small log on the fire. Then she hung a pot of water over it to heat, got some vegetables out of a bin, and began to chop cabbage, carrots, and onions for their supper.

  “He seemed pleasant enough to me.”

  “He seemed pleasant for Jamie’s sake. Now, I fear we shall see the true Hendry and none but you shall be surprised by it. In that way, you are very much like your father. You dinna see the evil in a lad and especially not in Hendry.”