And his face! Emer did not know whether to feel pity or disgust because he was more monster than man. Some of the suppurating ulcers on his face had begun eating away the muscle and bones around his eyes, lips, and nose; indeed, the nose had been completely eaten away, only leaving two long slits where once a nose had been.
It was a dreadful sight.
“I see the pox has visited ye most sorely, Laird Sutherland,” Caillen said, “and yet I cannae remember tales of ye traveling far enough to catch it.”
The lipless mouth opened to reply. The man’s illness was so severe, Emer was surprised to see he could hear and speak.
“Sometimes, all it takes is one night. And if that night occurs within yer own home, ye dinnae need to travel to catch it.”
The man’s voice was reedy and thin, but it bore the traces of a once deeply sonorous tone.
“I hope ye punished whoever passed it on to ye,” Caillen remarked in turn, “and yet I have nae heard of any such sickness in this region of the Highlands – ‘tis a city disease, for the most part, wouldnae ye say?”
The thing in the invalid chair gave a hollow cackle, “Oh, aye, Caillen, she was punished alright. She died giving birth to me daughter, Flora, over there,” he laughed more maniacally and continued, saying, “so, let that be a lesson to any man who knocks on his wife’s bedchamber door and begs her to let him in for one night of intimacy!”
Silence descended over the room.
Emer felt she was going to faint. Her feet were tingling, and her knees shook.
“May we sit down, Laird?” Caillen was watching Emer out of the corner of his eye, “Miss Wylie – I’m sure I have nae need to introduce her to ye - has nae eaten for many an hour.”
The figure glanced carelessly over to Emer as though she were as unimportant as a gnat, “Very well, I dinnae want her swooning away and interrupting our negotiations.”
He signaled to his daughter with one withered hand. Flora went to the door, stuck her head around the side, and they could hear her muttering a command.
Two light wooden chairs were brought to the door. Flora waited for the guard to leave, then she opened the door and dragged in the chairs. In that way, no one on the other side of the door could catch sight of Laird Sutherland.
“It must get a wee bit lonely here for ye, all alone, Laird,” Caillen commented, once he had taken a chair from Flora and sat Emer down on it, “ye should trust yer clan to stand by ye in yer time o’ trouble. Do ye doubt they will understand?”
“And allow news of me affliction to filter back to ye and yers at Maclachlan keep? I think nay, Caillen,” was the proud reply.
There was another knock on the door, and Flora returned with a platter of bread and cheese and flagon of small ale.
She slammed it carelessly down on a serving table and said, “There ye go, yer highness, eat until yer guts spill out.”
Emer stepped to the table, ripped a piece of bread off the loaf, and crammed it into her mouth. Her tongue was too dry for her to swallow, so she poured out a mug of ale and gulped it down.
She had turned her back to the room, so it came as a shock to hear loud clapping and merry laughter coming behind her.
“Oh, that’s funny. The wench looks more like a ravenous beast than the hoity-toity maid from the castle.’
Emer whirled around to catch Caillen cursing under his breath.
They both said, “Gawain,” but to each captive, the name meant different things.
To Caillen, it meant his suspicions were confirmed, but to Emer, it meant the devastating news that Davinia had given them up.
Gawain sauntered into the room and went to stand next to Flora. When it was possible to view the couple side by side, Caillen and Emer could see the look of slavish devotion on Gawain’s face when he stared at Flora. As for the maiden herself, she remained indifferent, simply glancing up at her lovelorn swain with a triumphant narrowing of the eyes. But her expression showed pleasure at how she had manipulated things to go her way – not a shred of affection could be seen in that arctic gaze.
“I have a feelin’ this is where ye tell us how clever ye’ve been, Gawain,” Caillen said nonchalantly.
A look of irritation crossed Gawain’s face, “Why do ye always have to be so flippant, Caillen? It is nae a becoming trait for a laird to have – nae that ye’ll be Laird for much longer.”
“And why is that?” his brother said, looking at his fingernails and then back at Gawain, “Are ye taking over? The element of surprise is a little lost me, ye ken – yer man, Campbell, and yerself, have been the only ones going in and out of the castle for many a week.”
“Aye! Ye’re right! Iamtaking over. And I’m glad I got the opportunity to grab ye before ye realized more of it. Ye jaunter off all over the place for years, leaving me to hold the fort while our faither gets weaker and weaker, and then ye pop back up at the castle when I’ve done all the hard work for ye – throwing yer ill-gotten gold around like some buccaneering Midas.”
“Can I sit down at least while ye vent all this spleen?” Caillen said, and going to one of the many side tables pushed against the walls, he drew out two chairs. He gave one to Emer and then sat down on another after turning it around to prop up his elbows on the chairback.
