“The Black Douglas?”She glanced over at Sebastien, who seemed interested now in the way the ceiling joints were arranged. “Sweet Mother of God, you’ve let the devil himself into Dunstaffnage!” Lara raised her hand to bless herself when Sebastien reached over and took hold of her arm, preventing her from completing the sign of the cross.
Silence filled the room as those who knew already and those who were just discovering that the scourge of southern Scotland, the man who Scottish mothers warned their children about, stood before them, focused their attention on the center of the room.
“He does not particularly like it when people cross themselves in his presence,” her husband whispered as he held her hand firmly in his own. “He says he finds it to be insulting.”
The man in question watched the scene unfolding and could hear every word Sebastien whispered. Lara was, however, about to tell the Black Douglas exactly what she thought of him when he leaned over to her, mimicking her husband’s position, and whispered his own words in a gruff voice.
“And ye dinna want to anger the devil himself, do ye now, lass?”
She jumped back, for his voice took on a whole different tone and a menacing one at that.
“James, have a care here! You are terrorizing my wife and in front of me. Have you no shame?” Sebastien reached out and punched James on the arm, and Lara was tempted to run.
“Here now, there is no call for violence,” Sir Hugh stated as he approached. “A messenger from the king is waiting to speak to you both.”
The three men turned their gazes on Lara at the same moment. Feeling very much the outsider, she knew she must leave. But, here was an opportunity to learn important information from the Bruce’s own men, his closest counselors and fighters. This was exactly what Eachann had pressed her about, what he wanted to know. A pang of regret and confusion filled her now. If she had taken a step toward being Sebastien’s wife, could she continue reporting his plans to her clan?
The entire hall grew quiet once more and Lara became aware from the stares toward her that the men were waiting for her to leave. She made her decision in that moment of rejection—she would find out from the Black Douglas what Eachann needed.
“My lord,” she said, curtsying to Sebastien and simply narrowing her gaze when she looked at James and Sir Hugh. “I would speak to the cook about the evening meal. If you would excuse my absence?”
Sebastien appeared to want to say something to her, but he gave her permission with a nod and she walked past them toward the kitchens’ stairs.
And to the steward’s chamber, where she could hear everything they said when they were not guarding their words.
Chapter Twelve
“Iam longing for a good meal, Sebastien. Do you think she will poison it?” James asked with serious intents. “Should someone follow her?”
Sebastien turned and punched his friend once more on the arm. “You have brought it on yourself this time. What was in your mind to taunt her that way?”
James crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Taunt her? I was the model of decorum and courtly behavior. Did you not see how impressed she was with me?”
“Impressed, you say? Until she realized who you were, and then she seemed more afraid than accepting.” Sebastien laughed now.
The reputation that James carried was well-earned by his actions; they both knew that. But, the rumors and stories and truths took on a life of their own as they spread from friend to foe. If it had not worked to their advantage many times, they would all, even the Bruce himself, squash the hearsay and correct the misapprehensions. Sebastien had witnessed one garrison of English soldiers surrender as one when they heard James shout out his battle cry. True, it was a small garrison, but they did lay down their arms, avoiding bloodshed on either side.
“So you think then that I should have someone taste my food while I am here?”
Hugh thought his jest was a good one, for it was his turn now to laugh. “From the expression on Lady MacDougall’s face, I would say you are each in danger. I for one will sit somewhere far away from both of you this evening and not share in your plates for fear of my life.”
“Enough jesting. There is much we should discuss.”
Sebastien walked to the long table in the south end of the hall and invited the two to sit. Once a serving maid brought tankards and ale and their thirsts were satisfied, Sebastien switched from the local Gaelic to French and reviewed with James the latest reports about the increase in attacks and ambushes to his men and those of the Bruce when transporting supplies over the western Highlands.
Each raid was not significant in itself, but there was an alarming pattern developing, and it seemed to spread out from Dunstaffnage itself. When he noticed the sameness in the timing, execution and details of each one, he knew that these were not simply random acts. Someone was directing them, and the attacks were too similar to be a coincidence and to not be related to the taking of Dunstaffnage.
“What do your spies tell you? Have the rest of the MacDougalls scattered or are they still lurking and plying mischief all around us?” James asked. Leaning in and looking from one to the other, he lowered his voice and asked, “And does your lady wife know about this?”
“That Eachann MacDougall is somewhere nearby? Nay, I have not told her that. She has been somewhat limited in her freedoms since I arrived here.”
James laughed again and smacked him soundly on the shoulder. “Sebastien, must you chain your women to keep them in hand?”
“Your obnoxious jesting aside, James, with all the disarray and change, I thought it best to keep her secluded and safe. She has been little out of the castle grounds and then only to the chapel. And always with an escort.”
“I suspect that Eachann and his men are behind the attacks.”
“I, too, share that suspicion and have assigned Munro to the task. Munro can run any man to ground.”
