Everyone within hearing distance sprinted inside the building. In the center of the lane between the stalls, his brother lay upon a heaping pile of manure. Fortunately, the pile of cosh was large enough to break his fall and save him from breaking his neck. A beam was prevented from falling completely to the ground when another beam blocked it. The roof continued to creak, and Breckin hoped his other brother made it safely down.
“Caden, are ye hurt?” This apparently came from Connor who peered through the gaping hole of the stable roof above.
“Christ Almighty, save me from these two dimwits,” Breckin said as he stared at his younger brother covered with reeking horse droppings. Even Caden’s light strands of hair were soiled with the mucky manure and bits of straw. He groaned.
Aymer stepped forward and tossed his hand down to help his brother out of the mess. “Are ye hurt, wee Caden?”
He shook his head. “Laird, we did not expect ye…”
“Apparently not. Connor, get down here, and for God’s sake, do not fall through the roof.” As he waited for the other twin, Breckin considered what their penalty would be. He was tired of coming up with appropriate punishments for them. This time though, they had gone too far. His brothers, not even half a score in age, tested his patience time and again. Breckin hoped they’d mature, but even with arms training, his brothers still reveled in causing havoc and performing “daring feats,” as they’d called it.
Connor arrived and hurried to see if their brother was hurt. “Why, ye are not even bleeding. Ye cannot claim that as a brave feat, Caden.” He chortled but ceased when he noticed Breckin’s glare.
The two of them had long, light hair that much resembled Breckin’s in color. Though Breckin had their father’s green eyes, his brothers’ eyes were as blue as an afternoon summer sky, akin to their mother’s. Their grubby faces were dirty, and likewise, their garments had seen better days. Their clothing and bodies needed a long washing in the loch. How he wanted to be the one to dunk them in the water, if only to cause them discomfort.
“Everyone, return to your posts.” Breckin stood with his hands fisted at his waist, trying to come up with a reasonable, or hell, even an unreasonable punishment for them. His wee brothers tried to bypass him, but he stepped in front of them before they could abscond. “Not ye two. Halt. Stay where ye are.”
They stopped abruptly and lowered their heads.
“I will not even ask why ye would risk your lives by climbing on the stable roof. Lord, Caden, ye stink to high heaven. Go, both of ye, and get cleaned up and meet me at Aunt Clare’s. We will have our supper and I will dole out your punishment then. Be quick about it and do not make me come to find ye.” Before he could speak further, hisbrothers dashed from the stables. He’d have to scour his mind for some unpleasant task for them to do—but he doubted they’d learn their lesson. They hadn’t so far.
Breckin reached the outside of the stable and approached Aymer. “Those two are going to force me to an early grave.”
Aymer bellowed. “Aye, aye. I kept watch on them all day but they disappeared, and then I found them hopping from one beam to another atop the roof. They have a death wish, aye?”
“Seems so. Now I have to think of how to reprimand them.”
“Something will come to ye, Laird, it always does,” Aymer said. “Since ye are here, I would give ye my report now. The sentry reported no trespassers whilst ye were gone except that they met the king’s messenger at the border by the blackened trees. He gave them a missive for ye.” His guardsman handed him the sealed parchment and bowed. “If that be all?”
“Aye, go on, Aymer, seek your rest.” Breckin held the parchment and walked toward his aunt’s cottage. When he returned from war or travel, he usually stayed in the soldiers’ barracks. But this night, he wanted a comfortable, warm bed, and his aunt’s good cooking. He reached her door in quick time and entered.
Breckin breathed deeply when he entered. Clare was likely the best cook in the clan and she’d made something delicious. Its scent wafted throughout the cottage and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days since he’d been on the move. On the approach to the kitchen area, he spotted his aunt who bent over and stirred a small cauldron atop a fire in the hearth.
When she heard a noise behind her, she gasped and dropped the spoon. It ended up sinking in the stew. “Bloody hell, Breckin, ye frightened me half to death. Care to give a warning when ye enter?” His aunt, a thin-bodied woman, wore a wimple over the reddish-brown locks of her shoulder-length hair. Deep blue eyes, the same as his mother’s, glared at him.
“My apologies, Clare, I did not mean to scare ye. I’ll be staying here this night. Is there enough stew for me?” He flashed a big smile in hopes that it would appease her.
“Of course, ye can stay, and aye, there is plenty for ye. Sit ye down at the table. Your brothers should come soon, for they haven’t eaten since early this morn. Their stomachs will coax them home.” Clare got another spoon and used it to retrieve the one that had fallen in the stew.
“I saw them. They will be here soon.” Breckin sat at the worn table nearby and allowed his tension to ease from him.
His aunt had been a godsend since his parents had passed to the hereafter almost two years before. Clare aided him in caring for his siblings when his laird duties became more demanding. With his sister Marian gone, that only left him and his two younger brothers. Still, he had a good-sized clan to rule and oversee. He tried to be a fair and just laird, training his brethren to become warriors renowned for their force and unwavering triumphs.
Try as he might, he had yet to think of a way to reprimand his brothers. Their chastisement needed to be harsh and instill caution the next time they decided to perform addled feats. He placed the parchment Aymer had given him on the table and heard the door open behind him with a creak. His brothers stepped lightly until they reached the table.
“I did not. ’Twas your fault. Ye should have listened to me,” Connor groused.
“If ye did not push me, I would not have fallen through the—” Caden said.
“Shush, both of ye. Sit ye down and remain quiet,” Breckin said in a no-nonsense tone. His younger brothers somewhat feared him. That might well be a good thing since they bloody likely didn’t fear anyone else. Now, how to punish them? “I will hear no excuses about your behavior this day. How many times have I told ye not to endangeryourselves? Ye risk your necks when ye do such things. Have ye no God-given sense? Nay, do not answer.”
Clare rushed forth and placed filled bowls of stew before them. Then she placed a basket of bread on the table and smiled. “Go on, eat your fill, lads.”
Breckin took a breath before he sentenced his brothers, knowing he had to be strict. “On the morrow, ye will rise at dawn and retrieve water for the barracks and kitchen. Then report for arms training and stay there until midday. When ye are finished, ye will come here, eat your supper, and then go to the stables. Ye will clean every stall until your job is done, and Alton will tell me if ye did a fair job of it too. This is your sentence for the next fortnight.”
His brothers groaned but didn’t retort or make a complaint. They knew that it was futile. If they made a single grievance, he would make the punishment longer and more taxing.
Clare set before him a cup of ale and took a seat near his. “’Tis good to have ye home, Breckin. The lads missed ye. Oh, they will not tell ye so, but they did. And I am pleased ye are here because I have had my hands full of looking after them.”
