“Ye are going to pay dearly for that,” said Fiona, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Brian as if he had just called herwench, a word that never failed to rouse her temper.
“She was about to fall asleep at the table,” Brian said.
“Doesnae matter. Ye just had her marched out of here as if ye were afraid she would hear all our secrets and then run to our nearest enemy to tell him everything.”
“I didnae.”
“Aye, ye did.”
“Nay, I didnae.”
“Och, aye, ye most certainly did.”
“Sir, is Anna nay weel?” asked Michel as he reached Brian’s side and tugged on his sleeve.
Relieved to escape what had sunk into a rather childish exchange, Brian looked at Michel. “Nay, she is just verra tired.”
“And hurt. I saw the bruises. Did she fall off her horse?”
“Nay, truly, she was just verra tired. ’Tis a verra long ride from Dubheidland to here.”
“Did ye hit her?” demanded Adelar as he stepped up behind Michel, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “When I saw the bruises I thought it was from the injuries she got when we had to jump from the ship, but then I got to thinking and realized the bruises she has now are too fresh.”
“None of my lads would e’er strike a lass,” snapped Sir Fingal.
Brian held up a hand to silence his family’s outrage and met Adelar’s steady stare. “Nay, I would ne’er strike a lass, especially Arianna. I fear she was briefly a prisoner in your uncle’s hands.” He nodded when both boys winced, revealing that they had tasted some of Lord Amiel Lucette’s cruelty during their short lives. “She is healing nicely but still needs a lot of rest.”
“Aye, I see. Thank ye for saving her, sir.”
Brian watched as Michel and Adelar returned to their table and then he looked at his family. “The reason for all of this lies in just exactly whom those two lads really are.”
“Agreed,” said Ewan, “but wouldnae the lass have told ye if they were more than just the sons of some bastard-born village lass and the laird?”
“They are but wee lads. They may have nay seen the importance of who fathered their mother. Aye, especially when that mother had as little to do with them as possible. They may have also heard how many scoffed at the tales of her birth.”
“Anyone ask them about it?” demanded Sir Fingal, and he grunted in irritation when Brian just stared at him. “Michel and Adelar, do ye ken who your grandsire was?” he yelled at the boys.
“The lord and lady of Champier, the Lucettes,” replied Adelar.
“Nay, I mean your mother’s sire. Did she tell ye who sired her? Did he claim her?”
“Mamansaid it was the king’s first cousin and that he may nay have openly claimed her, but there was a record of her birth and who sired her. She didnae tell us his name, though.”
The great hall became so silent the boys began to grow nervous. Brian glared at everyone and gave a sharp nod toward the boys, making everyone aware of the effect the silence had on the two children. It was enough to ease some of the tense silence and he watched both boys begin to relax.
“Adelar, does Arianna ken that?” he asked the boy.
“I dinnae think so.Mamanliked to boast that her papa had given her noble blood, but she told us we must ne’er say whose blood it was. She ne’er did. Weel, she only told Papa.”
“Then we shall continue to hold it secret.”
Both boys nodded and relaxed. Brian wished he could so easily shrug aside the tension gripping him. He talked to the boys while Ewan signaled the children’s nursemaids that it was time for the young ones to go to bed. The moment all of the children were gone from the great hall, Brian finished off his ale and poured himself another full tankard of the strong brew. He was not surprised to look up and find everyone in the great hall now staring at him.
“Weel, I think we ken the reason for the gathering army now,” said Brian.
“They dinnae mean to kill those lads,” said Sir Fingal.
“Lucette does. If he kens this he cannae do anything else for there’s a verra good chance the boy’s grandsire will use the blood connection to grab all Claud left for his grandsons.”
