Callum knew exactly what he was about to say. “I have no wish to marry, father.”
“Now dinnae start that again. She is on her way to MacLeod castle and you will go there at once to await her arrival. Is that understood? No more sneaking out on patrol to avoid the inevitable.”
“Do you no ken, father? I dinnae want no lassie to shriek over my death like Moira over Orm. I’m a warrior, not a family man. I wouldnae even ken what to do with bairns if they were put on my knee.”
“This isnae about you, Callum. Maids raise bairns. You just do your duty to keep the clan line alive. Our alliance with the MacKays depends upon this wedding.”
“My duty is to protect our people and I failed at that. I want to bury Orm, not put a ring on yon lassie’s finger.”
“Enough!” The laird got to his feet. The entire room had fallen silent. That never happened. He never shouted.
Slowly, he resumed his seat, his voice returning to normal. “You will go and you will be there when she arrives. So put your bloody oatcakes down and get moving before I shove my sword down your throat. I will take care of Orm’s burial. You go meet your bride to be and by thunder you better be good to her. There’s a lot riding on this, my boy. I cannae fight the Normans, the Northmen, the MacDonalds, and the MacKays all at once.”
He put the tray down on the table beside him. As he did so his mother squeezed his hand. “You might like her,” she said. “Give her a chance.”
He managed a curt nod. “I better be going, mother.”
She let go of his hand, smiling warmly. “Give her a chance.”
His men were waiting outside, Orm’s body laid out on the back of a cart next to them, tartan cloth draped over him. “I must go back to MacCleod castle,” he told them. “The laird will help you bury Orm. If you see Moira, tell her…just tell her she will want for nothing. The clan will see to that. And tell her I’m sorry.”
He walked away, heading out of the castle to untie his horse from the hitching post. Climbing onto its back, he rode slowly north, a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach like he’d swallowed a lump of molten slag from the smithy pit.
Marry a woman he’d never met to cement an alliance between two feuding clans? It happened all the time in the highlands but that was to other people. He was different. He wanted to remain single. He didn’t want to burden anyone with worry over what might happen to him whenever he went on patrol.
What he needed was to think of some way to get rid of her that would not infuriate his father or the MacKays. He couldn’t just refuse to wed. Do that and he would be cast out of the clan, shunned by his own kin, a fate far worse than marriage.
Perhaps he could persuade her to back out of the wedding. The thought comforted him as he tried to work out how that might be possible.
Soon Frazer castle was far behind him but he barely noticed, he was too busy thinking. He had a day and a night until he reached MacLeod castle. Little did he know it but the tale that would become The Saga of Callum MacCleod had just begun.
