“You lied to me,” Callum accused him. “Your own kin!”And there was the first bolt.
“You may settle clan or kin matters in another moment,” the Lord Constable cut in, his voice sharp as a sword.
The king asked, directly, “What have you beheld, Lady Keirah?”
Aonghus saw all eyes turn toward her; she literally took a step back before speaking. So much weighed on her from the morbid glances to their fated path about to be walked. Dammit! If only he could help shoulder the burden more for her.
“An attack, my lord king,” she began, and a few murmurs blanketed the chamber. “When I first settled here in Stirling, I beheld a night-glance of ships sailing over land.”
“Ships sailing land?” the Lord Chamberlain huffed. “Was it a night-glance or had you tasted a variety of mushrooms the Berserkers partook of before Viking battles?”
“Silence,” the king and Lord Constable both ordered in unison to the keeper of coin. King Alexander faced her again, imploring, “Proceed, Lady Keirah.”
“The night-glance this eve was of a Scotswoman, very tall, wearing a surcoat embroidered with roses, and clutching a wee bairn she called Douglin.” The words no sooner left Keirah’s lips before Alec stepped forward.
“Deidre, my…my wife,” he said in awe, and a grin beamed his lips at Aonghus and Callum. “She bestowed the name we spoke of after our late sire. I am now a sire of my own to a strapping lad!”
Callum slapped him on the back in congratulations but stilled when he noticed the somber expression by the one giving the news.
“What troubles you, my lady?” The King of Scots stood, flanked by his advisors, all wearing grim looks.
“The Lord Chamberlain is not mistaken on the oddity regarding ships over land.” She nodded at him. “Within that moment, even I did not understand how such a feat was even possible. The element which binds the two night-glances are the ships. The very same ships on land are the ones sailing across a loch, besieging and burning a castle unto the ground.” Her gaze broke to Alec, finishing, tormented: “A castle your Deidre stood in the foreground of, giving orders amid the chaos.”
Alec blanched, appearing more ghost than Scotsman. “My lady,” he asked, his words slow from fearing the answer, “were….were they hurt when you saw my wife and bairn in the night-glance?”
“Nae, she was well; however, a Northman was approaching from the woods. One I know of from my travels with King Håkonsson; he is called Ivar Holm,” she replied. “I awoke before the result bore clear…I do not know what occurred.” Her voice was tortured. “Please forgive me, Alec.”
His wee brother stepped up, kissed Keirah on the brow, and murmured, “You have warned me; there is nothin’ to forgive.” He turned toward the king. “With your permission I will take my leave to defend my kin and clan.” Aonghus read the look on his younger brother’s face. Had he ever seen his brother more iron-willed? No. Whether the king granted the request or not, Alec would be heading for the passageway.
“Aye,” the king nodded.
“Alec,” Callum ordered quickly, “place Legan with his brothers at your side and any others who seek to return swiftly.” Legan was a solid choice: big, muscled, and slayer to his core.
“Aye,” Alec called over his shoulder; the wood door slammed behind him hastily.
A rustling echoed the chamber with the Lord Constable unfolding a parchment revealing a map wide upon the table. “You speak of ships sailin’ over land,” he said, and all surrounded the drawing showing the Highlands. “Clan MacCade borders an isle upon the southern edges of Loch Lomond, aye?”
“Aye,” Aonghus and Callum confirmed together.
“My dear lady, if there was ever a place to complete such a feat…” The elder warrior’s eyes crinkled as much as the parchment when he squinted to see.
“Here,” Aonghus explained, drawing his finger across the terrain. “The northwest corner of the loch, ’tis the thinnest stretch of land.”
“There were stories of ships crossing land in Ragnar Lothbrok’s sagas; they have called upon these means once more.” King Alexander glared at the Lord Chamberlain to growl a disapproval at his earlier comment: “Nae mushrooms nor jest – ’tis real!”
The Lord Chamberlain’s face turned ashen.
“There are Scots upon these islands in the loch and the borders, particularly Lennox.” The Lord Chancellor’s fingers shook trying to smooth the holy robes as he asked, gravely, “How many ships were present in the night-glance?”
Aonghus saw Keirah furrow her delicate brow and close her eyes. Her lips began moving as if counting off the number from memory. Brillant. “At least twenty, perhaps more; themist shrouded them. Forgive me, I could not see them all,” she replied, despondent.
“Cluaran,” he called, and she met his gaze intently. “Donotcarry the burden, ’tis not yours.”
She gave him a sad smile which said silently to him that she felt different. His heart clenched.
“Lady Keirah,” the king inquired, sternly, “King Håkonsson would have led the raids if he were present. You have spoken that his ship carries a gold-plated dragon upon the bow; was this ship sailing the waters in the loch or over the land crossing?”
Aonghus watched her close her eyes once more while worrying her lip a long moment before meeting the kings’ questioning look as she shook her skull. “Nae, my lord king, he is not present; the only one I am able to see is Ivar Holm.”
