“After the house quiets,” Maggie said.
Busby finally helped her grandfather up from the hall, assuring Ewan Hay that he would return immediately to see to his comfort. He settled the old laird in his chamber with his manservant, informed Maggie that her grandfather was upstairs, and then hurried back to the hall.
“Have ye prepared me a chamber?” Ewan Hay demanded of the majordomo.
“My mistress has ordered that ye have the best bedspace here in the hall,” Busby responded. “The one nearest the large hearth. Ye’ll be warm and comfortable, sir.”
“A bedspace? I am now master here, and I expect a chamber!”
“Sir, Dugald Kerr is the laird and master here,” Busby said politely. “There is no chamber for ye. This is not some great lord’s house. There is a chamber for the laird, one for the mistress and her husband, and another for the bairns. Ye are a gentleman and cannot dispossess them. My lady has requested that ye be placed in the best bedspace we have to offer ye. With yer permission, I will see it is prepared now.” Busby bowed.
Ewan Hay was aggravated. He was to be the master of this keep, and should not have to sleep in the hall with his men. Still, the servant appeared to be telling the truth and was being most deferential towards him. Worse, he was correct. If the only chambers on the upper floor were for the old man, his granddaughter, and her children, it wouldn’t help his cause to force one of them to give up his chamber for him. Not that he cared what anyone thought, but his brother had advised him to at least try and keep the peace at Brae Aisir. Ewan Hay capitulated. “Very well,” he said sourly. Soon enough he would be sleeping in Maggie’s bed and teaching the bitch how to behave with her man.
It snowed for the next three days. Father David was unable to get up to the keep to celebrate Christ’s Mass. Maggie appeared in the hall only long enough to inquire if the men in the barracks had been fed. Ewan Hay said they would be fed when the snows ceased. Maggie departed the hall smiling to herself. The longer the storm lasted, the longer her men had to hide themselves in the village. She had no doubt they were long gone from the barracks building, but Ewan Hay wouldn’t know until the snow stopped.
On December twenty-eighth the morning dawned clear, but gray. Maggie returned to the hall demanding her men be fed, but Ewan Hay said if they wanted to eat they could dig their own way out of the stone quarters, and across the courtyard. Then he laughed nastily. Maggie turned to go.
“Stay!” he commanded her. “I would have yer company.”
“But I do not wish yers,” Maggie answered him, her back still towards him.
“Ye had best get used to me, my border vixen, for I am here to stay,” he said.
“Ye’ll remain till ye die, aye, I’ll agree to that,” Maggie told him. “But I dinna have to bear yer company. What have ye gained? Yer trapped in this keep even as the rest of us are. Now feed my men. After three days without food they should be too weak to battle with yer men.” Then she left the hall.
After another day Ewan Hay became concerned that no one from the barracks had come forth. He had watched as his men had gathered up the few men-at-arms in the keep and shut them in their stone quarters. He had actually been surprised at their small numbers, but he assumed Lord Stewart had taken a large force with him to impress the king, and lost them along with his own life. Well, so much the better. He could hold this keep.
Then Ewan noted that there was no smoke coming from the barracks’ chimney.
He ordered his men to dig a path to the barracks and break into it. The snow was heavy, and it took several hours before the narrow path reached the thick wooden door. Bhaltair, the Hay captain, lifted the bar from the door, expecting to find the entry locked from the inside. It was not, and he opened it easily. He stepped cautiously into the large dark chamber; the fire in the hearth was out, the few candles set about having burned down to hard puddles of melted wax. He quickly looked about. The cots were empty. The barracks were empty. But it couldn’t be. He had watched as the Kerr men-at-arms were marched into this building. There was no way in or out of this structure except the door. And the door had been fixed with a heavy wooden bar.
He shouted for a lantern; when it was brought, he moved farther into the chamber, seeking some other way out. The floor was hard-packed earth, and had not been moved or dug. There were no windows that he could see. Fifteen men had been in this place four days ago. They could not have simply vanished. Or was there magic at work here? He had heard it said that the mistress of this keep was rumored to be a witch. How else could the missing men be explained away? Exiting the barracks, he ran to tell Ewan Hay of what he had discovered.
As Ewan Hay listened to his captain’s tale, his face darkened with rage. “Busby!” he shouted, bringing the keep’s majordomo running. “Find yer mistress, and tell her I would see her in the hall immediately!” he said.
Busby did not delay. He hurried upstairs to find Maggie. “They’ve discovered the barracks are empty, my lady. The Hay is furious, and wants ye down in the hall at once,” the majordomo told Maggie.
Maggie smiled a cat’s smile, and following Busby, went down to the hall. She had barely entered the room when Ewan Hay was shouting at her.
“What mischief have ye done, madam? I demand answers!”
“Answers to what, sir? Obviously something is wrong, but unless ye tell me what it is, I cannot reply with any clarity,” Maggie answered him crisply.
“The men in the barracks,” Ewan Hay shouted.
“Aye? What about them?” Maggie responded. “Have ye at least had the decency to feed them yet? We dinna practice cruelty here at Brae Aisir.”
“I cannot feed them!” Ewan Hay said angrily.
“You cannot feed them? Why can you not feed them?” Maggie demanded of him.
“Because they are not there!” he roared. “The barracks are empty; yet I saw those men marched into it with my own eyes. But when we opened the door just a little while ago, the chamber was empty, the fire in the hearth gone cold, the candles burned to stubs!”
“Ohh, villain!” Maggie cried. “What have ye done with my men? If ye have killed them, ye will pay for it, I promise ye!”
Her outrage was magnificent to behold, Busby thought as he stood quietly, watching as his mistress put the Hay on the defensive.
“What haveIdone?” Ewan Hay roared. “The question is what haveyedone, madam? I have done nothing but lock yer people away. Now they are gone, and it is certain that ye had something to do with it!”
