Hooking his hands in his sword belt, he smiled. “I needed a training partner and your lord offered his time.” He slanted a glance at James, daring him to disagree. “We enjoyed a few good practice rounds.”
Rhona’s eyes lit. “I am glad.”
“Lady…” Marmaduke’s tone turned serious. “I appreciate your wish for a lavish wedding feast, and I would surely enjoy one, but from what I have seen of this storeroom, such a plan is best forgotten. A grand celebration is not needed.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Eoghann swelled his chest. “No victuals, no feast. Simple as that, it is. Lest we serve up braised sea-mist harvested from the curtains of it e’er drifting about here.”
“No shortage of that, indeed.” Marmaduke smiled at the crusty old seneschal. Nodding slowly, he felt a wave of prickles spill over him – the kind of shivers he cherished, the birth of an idea.
The beginnings of a plan.
Glancing about, he noted three sides of salt beef hanging from the ceiling. Ancient-looking, they appeared to be the only source of meat in the vast undercroft.
The only other halfway edible supplies he spotted were a few scrawny seabird carcasses, yet to be plucked and dressed.
“Dunlaidir once had an impressive herd of cattle.” Marmaduke slanted a glance at James. “My liege, Duncan MacKenzie, praised them for days after his last visit here. He swore he’d never enjoyed finer beef.”
“Aye, the best beef to be had within a three-days ride is what most said,” James owned. “Now, with our cattle grazing the fields de la Hogue seized from Sir John, we have scarce enough stores to fill the belly of a mouse.
“It’s a sad truth, but the way of it.” James rested his hip on the edge of the well. “In my father’s time, this holding was a major strength in this part of Scotland,” he went on, seeming to age years. “Then Sir Hugh smashed his iron fist on us, not taking our walls but ravaging our land and lifting our cattle.”
“Terrifies our people, too,” Eoghann added, anger etching hard lines into his craggy face. “Many are afraid to leave their cottages, fearing Sir Hugh and his men will swoop in.”
“He’s a black-hearted snake if e’er there was one,” James agreed.
Only Marmaduke said nothing, his gaze on the creel of oxhides.
At last he knew what must be done.
“You want a lavish marriage feast,” he said to Rhona. “I humbly accept. But,” he added, glancing at Eoghann, “we shall celebrate two wedding feasts.”
Behind him, James made an odd choking sound. “Two?”
“One feast following the nuptials, serving up whatever is on hand,” he explained. “The second a few nights later and enjoyed with the best beef to be had within a three-days ride.”
James’ eyes rounded. “You are full mad.”
“Nay, I am hoping my wedding night will prove a dark and moonless one,” Marmaduke corrected. “The first feast will be our smokescreen.”
“How so?” That from Eoghann.
Marmaduke clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder, smiled. “’Tis so, my friend…” He paused, took a breath. “The dinner will serve as a ruse, a distraction to allow a few of us to slip onto Sir John’s old lands and retrieve your cattle.”
“I don’t understand.” James frowned.
“I do.” Eoghann grinned. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”
James still looked confused. “What?”
“Don’t you see?” A gleam came into the seneschal’s eyes. “Who would expect a man to launch a cattle raid on his wedding night?”
“Oh.” Comprehension stole across James’ face. “And what about the night of the second wedding feast?”
“That, my friend, remains to be seen,” Marmaduke said, holding his tongue.
He knew exactly what would happen.
* * *
