“Which one? I hae three,” the master of Grayhaven said.
“Baen,” Logan Hepburn replied. “Baen MacColl.”
“Baen will be out with his sheep right now,” Colin Hay replied, “but he’ll be back by dark, when he’s certain his shepherds are safe with their flocks for the night. He fights a losing battle, for the sheep no longer thrive here. They did at first. ’Twas a good idea, but it does not seem to be a successful one now. He is disappointed. Do you wish to sell him more sheep, my lords? You have wasted a trip if that is your purpose, I fear.”
Thomas Bolton chuckled. “There is only one little ewe sheep he must have whether he will or nay. But ’twill be to his advantage, I assure you, sir.”
“Tom!” Logan Hepburn looked decidedly aggrieved. “This is no laughing matter. This is serious business we come upon.”
“What is it then?” Colin Hay demanded to know. “You surely do not need my son’s presence to tell me what you must.”
“It would be better if he were here too,” Lord Cambridge responded, now serious himself. “’Twill save the telling of it twice. Might you send for him? ’Tis a long time until the night falls, sir.”
“Aye, send for him, and let us get this over and done with,” Logan Hepburn said.
“To satisfy my own curiosity if for no other reason,” Colin Hay said, beckoning a serving man to him. “Ride out and fetch my son Baen,” he told the servant. “Tell him I want him in the hall with all possible haste.”
The man bowed and hurried off.
“I don’t suppose you would have a bit of cheese?” Lord Cambridge said. “We have not eaten since dawn, when we dined on some rather dry oatcakes that had been hiding in the bottom of a clansman’s saddlebag. They had the taste of old leather,” he said, shuddering delicately and sipping from his cup.
“’Tis almost time for the meal,” the master of Grayhaven replied. “We eat our main meal at noon in winter, for other than Baen few venture out after that. Have you ridden far?”
“From Claven’s Carn in the west borders,” Logan said.
“And I several days farther from Otterly,” Lord Cambridge said.
“It must be an important matter that you would come at such a time, and so far,” the master of Grayhaven answered. What was this all about? And why did they insist that Baen be with them when they explained? A servant girl with a big belly wouldn’t merit such a visit. And then Colin Hay remembered the lady of Friarsgate, and how every time his son spoke of her—which was rare indeed, for Baen had been almost taciturn since his return from England this time—but each time he would mention this girl his eyes were soft with the memory of her. What was her name? But he could not remember it, if indeed he had ever known it. The peacock appeared to be dozing now. The border laird sat staring into his wine goblet. They waited.
It was almost an hour later when Baen came into his father’s hall. “Da! Are you all right?” he asked as he entered, and then he saw Thomas Bolton and Logan Hepburn. He grew pale. “Elizabeth?” he croaked. “Is she well?”
The peacock was immediately on his feet. “Dear, dear boy!” he exclaimed effusively, embracing Baen warmly. “It is delightful to see you, although I should have preferred it be in a warmer clime.”
“Elizabeth, Tom! Is she all right?” Baen repeated.
“She is as well as can be expected,” Lord Cambridge offered with a teasing grin.
“She’s got a big belly, and ’tis your bairn!” Logan Hepburn said without any preamble. “You’ll come back to Friarsgate and make it right!”
“I can’t!” Baen said low, his voice anguished.
“And why not?” Logan demanded angrily.
“You know the duty I owe my father,” Baen began.
“My stepdaughter is no serving wench, damn it!” the laird of Claven’s Carn snapped. “She’s the heiress to Friarsgate, and this child should be the next heir to the estates. You cannot desert her, Baen MacColl! I will not allow it.”
“Nor will I,” the master of Grayhaven said suddenly. “Do you mean to tell me, you mutton-headed fool, that you would leave the girl because of some foolish idea in your head regarding your loyalty towards me?” His open palm made contact with the side of Baen’s head. “Do you love her?”
“We handfasted. Is that not good enough?” Baen asked in pained tones.
His father smacked him again. “Do you love her?” he demanded.
“Aye, but Da—”
“Then you will wed her properly in the church, and give my grandchild a name. You’ll nae sire a bastard as I did, Baen. I love ye. I’ve loved you from the first you turned up at my door and I saw my own face staring back up at me in the person of a frightened yet defiant lad. But ye’re my bastard, and there is nothing here for you at Grayhaven. Especially now that the sheep are failing. Why should you not have a wife and bairns of your own? And a home of your own? Ellen wanted it for you, and I do too. You’ll be the lord of a fine manor.”
“Nay, he’ll not,” Logan Hepburn said. “He’ll be the husband of the lady of Friarsgate, and no more. The father of the heir. No more unless she permits it. I’ll not lie to you, Lord Hay. Elizabeth is very angry that Baen left her. She would have raised her bairn alone but that when her mother learned of her condition, she would not have it. But Friarsgate belongs to the lady even after she weds.”
