“I ken nae, nor want to, sweet Emer,” Gawain rasped, “that note was nae all I found in the rubble. Remember those letters with the Sutherland crest on them that ye found in me writing desk? Those were under the library rubble too...in a pouch...that’s why they were still clean and uncrumpled.”
“What about the Sutherland pin?” Emer asked, curious to know what else was found when the builders were clearing the library room.
“Och, that! The pin’s an auld family heirloom. A memory of better times when the Sutherland and Maclachlan clans were friends.”
Emer sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to piece everything together in her head.
“I asked ye here to do more than listen to what I had to tell ye, Emer, I asked ye here to make one more request. Ye’re so kind, and with such nobility of spirit, I ken ye will nae refuse me,” Gawain said, a painful smile twisting his lips.
Emer replied, “I’ll do what I can to help ye, Gawain, but only up to a point. Ye’ve said it in yer own words-the Sutherlands and Maclachlan's were allies nae so long ago-it may be that yer brither is trying to bring about a reconciliation in his own way. As for the attack on yer life, who planned that has yet to be revealed.”
Gawain slumped deeper into his pillows, “I pray ye’re right, dear, but just so I can rest easy in the meantime, would ye be so sweet and kind as to keep an eye on Caillen for me? Try to get close to him; be in the same places and observe what he’s doing. Whatever ye find out, be it so ever the tiniest detail, might be enough for me to ken the truth. And that will set both our minds at rest, will nae it?”
Emer said nothing. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Then an unwelcome vision popped into her mind.
“How can I follow yer brither around all the time, as though I were his lapdog? He will think it so strange of me.”
“It should nae be hard, Emer. I ken he trusts ye and enjoys yer company.”
Emer got up from where she had been sitting beside Gawain and went to pour out a measure of medicine for him.
“Have ye thought about approaching yer faither with this problem?” she suggested as a final resort.
Gawain shook his head, “He stays in his own part of the castle and will nae meet with anyone since the illness came.”
Emer sighed,
“Aye, Gawain, I will do it, but nae because ye ask it of me. ‘Tis because I have a sore need to get to the bottom of this mystery, same as ye do. Now, swallow this down and go to sleep. The physician will be here, anon.”
Chapter Sixteen
Anything that gets me away from Gawain is a blessing as far as I’m concerned. At least if I’m following Caillen all over the castle, I cannae be accused of foisting me attention in Gawain’s direction!
Davinia was still not talking to Emer, and the dairymaid was her full-time bedchamber companion now. The small turret room, which Emer had once thought of as a haven of girlish chitchat-somewhere she and Davinia could share their hopes and dreams, was now just a pokey old room with two narrow beds in it.
Emer had decided to do as Gawain asked, not so much because she believed him, but more so she could lay her own uneasy qualms about Caillen to rest.
It was the strangely addressed letter that dinnae sit right with me. No one, least of all a hired assassin, would dare to address his Lairdship as ‘Laird Caillen.’ In fact, the two words together make nae sense. He’s either ‘Laird’ or ‘Caillen’ – never both together. I have to get to the bottom of this.
Emer had plenty of time to follow Caillen around now. She was no longer welcome in the kitchens after her altercation with Davinia, and the upstairs staff looked at her askance too. They did not take kindly to a newcomer who had landed herself a cushy job, and the shorter hours and higher pay she received only served to make their envy more bitter.
She thought long and hard about the best way to keep Caillen under constant observation for the day, but as though he could read her thoughts, he seemed to take care of that problem all on his own.
“Would ye give me a few ideas on which hangings to choose for the withdrawing room, Emer?” Caillen asked her the next day. She was in his bedchamber, sweeping scattered fireplace ashes off the richly woven woolen carpets he had commissioned to be laid down only two days before.
Caillen had left the original wide, ornately carved, four-poster bed where it sat in the middle of the wall on the left as one entered the chamber, but the old velvet drapes that had hung in tatters around the posts were gone, replaced by swathes of dark red brocade, embellished with gold emblems.
“Me?” Emer stood up straight when she heard him say her name, tucking the besom under her arm and flinging an errant ringlet back from her face, “Why me?” she was too astonished to remember castle etiquette when addressing the Laird.
“Because I want yer opinion. Because I trust yer judgement. Because I like to see things through yer eyes. A thousand reasons ‘why,’ lass,” he said, and Gilby, who was folding his Lairdship’s hunting clothes away into a trunk, gave a chuckle. They both looked in his direction.
“We will nae be needin’ these hunting clothes again for a while, I’m guessing, me Laird,” Gilby said with a knowing grin.
Both Emer and Caillen looked at what Gilby was doing, and then his Lairdship gave a shout of laughter.
“Losh, Gilby, ye’re right, me auld friend. Hideallme hunting gear away. The chieftains and farmers are quakin’ in their boots up at the lodge, too scared to go outside in case the dastardly archer is out to get them next!”
Emer frowned, “Ye seem to be takin’ the attempt on yer brither’s life very lightly, me Laird,” she said.
