Chapter 18
Simon studied the lands of Lochancorrie closely as he, his brothers, and the men Henry had dragged from their homes all rode toward the huge keep that dominated the hillside in front of them. Not many of the fields were planted and there appeared to be few livestock grazing on the low, rolling hills around them. He had to wonder what Henry had done in his time as laird aside from abusing the people who depended upon him.
“Is it all like this?” he asked Wallace, thinking that winter could prove to be very harsh if they did not get in some supplies.
“Aye,” replied Wallace as he looked around. “'Tisnae as bad as I thought it would be in truth. Seen it worse. Henry wasnae here much after the spring rains ended, ye ken, for he was off plotting with those others. I think the people here must have used his absence to get some work done. But, Henry did take a lot of men from the fields to train them for his war. He was also fond of large feasts.
He would have his friends round, snatch a few lasses, and do naught but eat, drink, and wench for days.”
“Weel, we shall have to think of some way to build up the supplies or it shall be a dangerously lean winter. Now, do ye think Henry’s guard is still here?”
“Nay, for the gates to the keep are open.”
“It could be a trap,” said Malcolm, and drew his sword, Kenneth and Ruari quickly doing the same. “If Henry’s guard was loyal to him I wouldnae trust them as far as I can spit.”
“They were loyal enough,” said Wallace, “for they got all the food and wenches they wanted when he was here.”
“Wallace, am I going to find a keep full of Henry’s bastards and poor abused lassies who cower at every shadow?” asked Simon.
“I fear there are some bastards. Henry didnae pay much attention unless they were the children of his wives and I fear the poor lassies he bred didnae live long. There are some, as I said, and all are lassies. So ye dinnae need to worry that there will be anyone challenging ye for the laird’s seat.”
“I wasnae worried about that so much as I was worried that Henry didnae take care of the children he bred.”
“He didnae but those ones were luckier than the ones bred under his own roof.”
Simon shook his head as they cautiously rode into the inner bailey. All that waited for them were a few women and children and a half dozen soldiers who showed no sign of attacking them. Simon got the bad feeling that Henry had stripped the place bare in his quest to be a king.
He turned to ask Wallace to introduce him only to see that man leaping from his mount and running toward a slender red-haired girl with a plump baby in her arms. Most of the other men from Lochancorrie were doing the same and the bailey was filled with the glad cries of welcome. Simon experienced a distinct stab of envy.
He dismounted and climbed up the steps to the front door. Turning, with his brothers flanking him, he called for the attention of those gathered in the bailey. The moment they were all looking at him with a mix of anticipation, hope, and resignation, he struggled to think of what he needed to say.
“Your laird, Henry Innes, is dead. He was executed last week for the crime of treason against the crown.” Someone cheered and Simon ignored it. “I am Simon Innes, the new laird of Lochancorrie, and these are my brothers.” He introduced his brothers in order of their age and noticed how the curiosity of the people began to overcome the wariness. “We need to get to work. From what I have seen, we have a lot of hard work ahead of us if we dinnae all want to starve this winter.
“I will take an hour now to clean up and eat and then I want anyone who has something to say to come to me in the great hall. That should also give ye time to tell the others, such as the people in the village. We shall all have to work together if we are to make this place what it was in my grandfather’s time. While I am certain some of the tales of the bounty and beauty of this place at that time are just that–tales–I suspect that with some efforts we can do it or come close. Go and spread the word about the meeting and think of what is important to ye that ye feel must be attended to.”
“Weel, at least they havenae run screaming from the keep at the thought of four Innes men here,” murmured Malcolm.
“They were a wee bit wary to start but I think the return of their men, hale and weel fed, helped ease things,” Simon said as he opened the door to the keep and came face-to-face with a plump woman of about thirty years holding the hand of a pretty dark-haired girl. “May I help ye?”
“Aye, I be Annie. I do most of the ordering of the household. The laird thought this child to be mine.”
“And she isnae?”
“Nay, m’laird, she is yours.”
Simon looked at the little girl again. There was no question she was of Innes blood with her thick black hair and clear gray eyes, but he could see nothing to tell him she was his child. He looked back at Annie. “Are ye certain?”
“She be born of Mary, the laird’s third wife, nine months after ye were beaten nigh unto death. Mary didnae want her”–Annie kissed the child on the cheek–“and we all ken what the laird did to his girl babies, so I took over the whole care of her.”
“But he said he had killed my child.”
“He thought he had. There was another bairn born that night, another wee lass, but I kenned that one wouldnae be living for long. The breathing was all wrong, ye ken, and the skin was yellow. I switched the bairns. When the other poor lass died, I claimed the bairn everyone thought was Mary’s and have raised her. She is yours, laird. Nay question of it.”
He looked at the little girl. “What is your name, loving?”
“Marion.”
“A fine name. Weel, when I have bathed and eaten, ye may sit with me in the hall if ye wish. There is going to be a meeting and we are all going to talk about what needs to be done here to make it a better place.”
