“Leave?” Andrew glanced between Rab and Catherine, suspicious of how calmly Rab mentioned departing court and how unmoved Catherine appeared. Sensing Andrew’s scrutiny, Catherine turned a woeful gaze to Andrew. He’d expected her to speak up, but the tears in her eyes made him believe she couldn’t find her voice. He didn’t know Catherine’s sadness was sympathy for the MacLarens not regret that Rab planned to leave soon.
“Aye. With King Robert’s decision now made, I have nay reason to remain. I dinna fit with court life to begin with. I’m an outsider at best, but I’m still the villain to most. It’s best if I dinna linger.” Rab locked eyes with Catherine. “It’s best that I be on ma way as soon as I conclude ma business.”
“Vera well. Catherine, let’s find ye something to eat. Then I’ll take ye to the gardens to find the queen and the ladies. Rab, shall we discuss the arrangements when I come back inside?”
“Aye. I shall go to ma chamber,” he glanced down and waved his hand in front of his blood splattered leine, “and change. I must draft a missive to ma father. I’ll bring parchment and ink with me to the Great Hall. We can meet there, and we can write our agreement and sign.”
The four Highlanders made their way to a flight of stairs. Rab took them to the bachelors’ quarters while the other three turned left toward the Great Hall. Catherine forced a smile to her face when Andrew continued to whittle. She wanted nothing more than to escape and find Rab, but she accepted they couldn’t see one another until they met to ride out to Dunblane. She needed to pack, anyway.
As Andrew prepared to walk out of the gardens, once he and Catherine caught up with the ladies in the garden, Catherine rested her hand on his arm. “Do ye think they really could be behind some of what’s kept this feud going?”
“I dinna ken. Mayhap they’ve stirred up trouble a few times, but the MacLarens started this and have kept it going.”
Catherine stared at her cousin in disbelief. She shook her head and turned around. She left Andrew calling her name. She might agree that the MacLarens started the feud all those years ago, but it was hardly only them who kept it going. She didn’t want to fight with Andrew on her last day with him, so she opted to end their conversation before it erupted into an argument. It saddened her that even after Andrew knew Rab defended her twice, chose justice and her over his own family, Andrew still believed Rab was the enemy. Her marriage to Rab would either bring peace to their corner of the Highlands or create a war that would be the demise of both their clans. She prayed for the former.
* * *
Rab wanted nothing more than to ride out of Stirling Castle’s bailey, with Catherine beside him, and never look back. Instead, he lingered in the Great Hall after the morning meal, a piece of vellum, a square of wax, a quill, and inkpot on the table before him. He opted to draft the missive to his father after he negotiated with Andrew. He watched as Andrew finished speaking with the MacFarlane warriors, who hastened to find Catherine in the gardens. It was clear Andrew ordered them to guard her, which was the only reassuring thing to happen that morning.
“Let’s be on with this, MacLaren,” Andrew stated as he swung one long leg, then the other over the bench and sat across from Rab. After the incident with Dennis only an hour earlier, neither was feeling magnanimous, but Rab overlooked Andrew’s brusque tone. He intended to draft the agreement based on the king’s orders, have Andrew sign it, then escape to the lists for a few hours before he packed his meager belongings.
“The king ordered us to pay ye seventy-five percent of our grain profits as reparations. We havenae sold all our grain yet, but we are negotiating with the Stewarts. If ye wish for only the coin, then I will have our seneschal count it. I will deliver it maself.” Rab gave no hint to when he might do that since he hadn’t a clue. It depended on when he felt it was safe to first return to Edinample, then set foot on MacFarlane land. “The other choice is we give ye what’s left of the grain rather than sell it and pay ye the difference.”
“Coin.” Andrew locked eyes with Rab, and the latter understood Andrew didn’t trust the MacLarens not to poison the MacFarlanes or send inferior quality.
“Vera well. I canna give ye an exact amount since we havenae agreed with the Stewarts yet. But I can give ye a fair estimate. We’ve had a good harvest with three-and-ten bushels for each acre. We farmed eight hundred acres, so at six shillings per bushel per acre,” Rab paused to tally the amounts and tried not to sob. His father said he had a head for numbers, and it ached more with each mark he made. “I estimate it’ll be seventy-eight shillings per acre, so—bluidy hell. Sixty-four thousand, four hundred shillings.”
“Pounds. I want to know pounds,” Andrew demanded, his burr gone now that he didn’t fear for Catherine.
“Unless ye can do all of this in yer head, ye’ll have to let me calculate it. I canna do it in ma head.” Rab stared at Andrew, daring him to say anything else. Andrew nodded, and Rab returned to his calculations. With twenty shillings in a pound, he said, “That’s three thousand, one hundred and twenty pounds.”
Andrew grinned, smug satisfaction clear on his face. He sat back and crossed his arms, knowing that even with only seventy-five percent of that number, the MacLarens would suffer for years.
“Ye can save yer gloating for a moment. That isnae our profit. That’s what we should earn if we sold it all. If ye figure we need to keep five hundred acres’ worth at three-and-ten bushels, that’s… six thousand, five hundred at six shillings each. Thirty-nine thousand shillings… makes one thousand, nine hundred and fifty pounds. Plus our expenses, which were two hundred and eight pounds. I remember that tally from our ledgers. We keep two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight pounds.” It was Rab’s turn to gloat. “That leaves nine hundred and sixty-two pounds, and ye get seventy-five percent of that. That’s seven hundred and twenty-one pounds and ten shillings.”
Andrew’s grin dropped when he realized his original excitement was for naught. He wished Rab had calculated the reparations in silence, so he wouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. But only a few minutes later he recalled that what the MacLarens kept must last them a year. It would be a struggle for them to pay any laborers for work done at the keep, to pay their servants their meager wages, and to buy anything they needed for the next year’s crops.
What Rab didn’t volunteer was how his father bartered with the laborers, giving them free range to hunt throughout summer and autumn, and to keep everything they caught. He also raised the price on their aging whisky, which he traded as far as Ireland. It was a steep loss, for which Caelan and Rab had prepared. They’d estimated the Bruce ordering them to forsake ninety percent of their yield’s profits. He kept his head bowed as he wrote the agreement and made clear it was only an estimate with a final amount tallied once the MacLarens sold the last of their wheat. He included his offer to send bushels that didn’t sell, but he counted on the MacFarlanes refusing them. He prayed the Stewarts didn’t purchase as much as his father had offered in the spring. If the MacFarlanes refused the goods, it kept the MacLarens’ debt lower and gave them more food for their people.
When he finished, adding on the livestock they owed the MacFarlanes, and read over his offer once more, he spun the parchment around to Andrew and handed him the quill. He watched Andrew’s eyes move over the document, reading it twice. But at last, Andrew signed. Then Rab did the same. Rab retrieved a nearby candle and heated the wax. Using his signet ring, he pressed the MacLaren crest onto the parchment beside his name. He offered the candle and remaining wax to Andrew, who mirrored Rab’s actions.
“Óg,” Rab said as Andrew stood. “I have too many regrets to list when it comes to yer kin and what mine did. I dinna ken if it might have brought ye any satisfaction or peace, but I regret nay sending ye their heads on pikes. I dinna ken if ye cared that they suffered, but they did. I havenae aught else I can offer ye besides ma words and what the king ordered. One day, it willna be our fathers who feud. When that time comes, I dinna choose to carry this on. If it means paying more recompense, then I will. But I dinna need this to haunt the next generation. I dinna want our children to inherit this feud. If ye need us to shoulder the blame, then I will fully. This needs to end.”
Andrew stood silently as he assessed Rab. Had they not come from rival clans, he might have liked Rab. He’d always respected him as a peer until the last raid. He struggled to overcome the anger and grief that haunted him with every breath, but he recognized the wisdom in what Rab offered. He supposed his emotions would dull over the coming years, even if the memories didn’t. He didn’t want to raise sons, already knowing they would go into battle against the MacLarens. While the MacFarlanes had the mighty Campbells on their side, it benefited both the MacFarlanes and the MacLarens to find peace. The MacGregors and Buchanans were intent upon causing trouble for their neighbors. Uniting the MacFarlanes and MacLarens would deter the other two clans and create a force that would stop either clan from causing a full-scale battle.
Andrew thrust out his arm, which Rab considered for a moment before wrapping his hand around his forearm. Standing as Highlander to Highlander, Andrew dropped his courtly veneer and allowed his burr back into his speech. “I dinna ken how long the wait will be. Yer father is as fit as a goat, and mine is the same. I dinna like thinking how many more years this will carry on, but I agree. I dinna want ma children to inherit this. I dinna want their lives in danger because of this.”
“If the Campbells continue pushing the MacGregors off their land, the clan willna survive. They struggle now. They are both our enemy, since they squat on ma land, and ye’re allied with the Campbells. I prefer we fight them together than fight each other. The Buchanans arenae done stirring trouble. They will only grow bolder once our fathers die. They will test both of us as new lairds. I’d rather nae fight them and ye. I dinna want ma clan spread that thin, and I dinna think ye want that either.”
“Then we wait,” Andrew said with finality. Rab nodded, praying the time wouldn’t be long once he and Catherine married before the church. The feud would either erupt or finally be laid to rest. Or they would both be disinherited and clanless. Only one option appealed to Rab. With his wedding only hours away, he figured they would all learn the outcome soon enough.
“Aye. In the meantime, I dinna think there is a one in ma clan who will consider causing trouble with ye. Nay one but the men who rode with me ken exactly what happened, but I returned soaked in their blood. The others were splattered and nearly as bad as me. Everyone at Edinample, and most who have come to our market, ken ma cousins died a violent death. I didna clean maself up or change, and I ordered ma men nae to, because I wanted ma clan to witness the outcome of ma cousins’ choices.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Rab realized his last comments did little to reassure Andrew that he meant to create and keep peace. “Ye ken why I did what I did. If it were someone else, anyone else, I wouldnae have reacted that way. But they took people she loves, and for that alone, I willna forgive.”
“Aye, aye. Ye’ve said as much before. I believe ye, even if I still dinna completely trust ye.”
