Then Caillen said, “Ye are the first clan to the south of Maclachlan castle to side with the Sutherlands in the north, Angus. Besides me faither’s ill health, what made ye think there would be nae consequences for breaking our agreement?”
Now that he had a beneficial trading agreement under his belt, Chieftain Lochart was chatty and relaxed, “Och, Cai, the Sutherlands promised me on their oath there would be nae penalties or punishment coming from Maclachlan keep. They dinnae mention yer faither’s health, though, they just said they had a personal warrant from someone there who had information. They ken how much I was payin’ ye in trading fees and what agreement was in place for our two clans in times of war. Then they sweetened the deal. I was reluctant at first, but they said the Maclachlan keep was all but theirs for the asking, and it would be under their control in a year or two, furthermore.”
Caillen’s face remained passive as he heard the chieftain out, and when the man concluded his revelation, all he said in reply was, “Once again, I thank ye for yer kindness and candor. If I could ask one more favor-say nothing to anyone about our meeting and send all messages and emissaries from the Sutherlands away unless I ask otherwise. Farewell.”
And with those words, Caillen turned on his heel and strode out of the hall toward the stables.
Chapter Seven
“Imust find the informer who is betraying the clan!” Caillen was back at the keep and pacing up and down the library, watched by Gawain, the castle steward Banting, and the captain of the guard.
“It will nae be easy,” Gawain said, with Banting and the captain nodding in unison behind him, “we have people coming and going in the keep at all hours of the day and night, nae to mention the huge number of staff.”
“That’s where ye’re wrong,” Caillen said grimly, “the information leaking out has never left the four walls of this room,” he gestured around the library and pointed at the Laird’s desk, “so either words are spoken and overheard or written down and read in secret. That can soon be remedied. This craven poltroon who smiles to our faces and then stabs us in the back is about to have their tail feathers trimmed.”
He turned to the captain of the guard, “From now on, the only person allowed in this room is that lass from the kitchens, the one who spoke up against me, come recently to work in the castle.”
“Aye, me Laird,” the captain saluted.
Caillen addressed his next command to Banting the steward, “Go and find Davinia the kitchen maid and ask for her sister. I dinnae ken her name. I want to speak to her anon.”
The steward left hastily. The captain bowed himself out to fetch two guards for the library door and set up a daytime and night watch schedule.
Caillen sat down at his desk and did not look up at his brother before saying, “D’ye ken any carpenters around these parts, Gawain?”
“Nay...,” Gawain answered hesitantly.
“Nae to worry,” Caillen said, “I will ride into the village meself and find one. I have a few messages to deliver.”
“Are ye nae going to send a messenger?” Gawain asked, “Ye can hardly waste yer days riding to and from all the clans and villages?”
“It’s nae a waste o’ time, Gawain, when the future of our clan depends on it. I would ride to Edinburgh and beyond to deliver messages if it means a spy can’t intercept them.”
Gawain nodded solemnly and then asked, “What’s the carpenter for?’
Caillen simply smiled and shook his head. Gawain understood his elder brother had something clever planned.
* * *
“Why, Mister Banting! How lovely to see ye down here in the kitchens!” Mistress Drummond exclaimed cheerfully, “What can I do for ye? I hope the account books are in order?”
She clapped her hands together, and the spit roast boy rushed to bring a mug of ale and some sugar cakes for the steward. Mister Banting made himself comfortable on the stool next to the workbench and took a chug of ale,
“I’m here for yer helper, Davinia by name. I need to have words with her,” he said and took a large bite of sugar cake.
Davinia, busy with peeling carrots by the scullery, heard her name mentioned and dropped her knife in the sink with a clatter, “What does he want withme!?” she whispered to Emer, who had just stepped back inside after emptying the peelings on the dump outback.
Emer said a silent prayer; it had nothing to do with her rant about the new Laird behind his back. Then she remembered what she had said on the night of the feast had not been behind Laird Maclachlan’s back at all. It had been her back that was turned-and he had been able to hear every word.
If I am the cause of me sister losing her appointment at the castle, I dinnae ken what I can do to make it up to her.
Davinia was wiping carrot peels off her hands and straightening her pinafore. She gave one last frightened look at her sister. Emer crossed her fingers and tried to look optimistic.
Davinia mounted the steps up to the kitchen and bobbed a curtsey to the steward, “Good day to ye, sir, Mister Banting, sir. I am Davinia.”
Mister Banting licked the sugar crumbs off his fingers and gave an indulgent smile, “It’s yer sister I seek, actually, me dear. What’s yer sister’s name?”
Emer, waiting down in the scullery, keenly trying to hear what was being said in the kitchen, heard the steward’s question and knew her fate was sealed. She must be brave and take her letting go with as much dignity as she could muster.
