“I do nae wish to speak of it.” The reply was swift.
“Ye cannae say that. I thought ye said ye were over it. That ye didnae get into memories of that night.”
“I said I do nae wish to speak of it!” Fuming, Torcall rode ahead and left his cousin behind.
In truth, he had lied to his cousin and even to his uncle. It had been the only option he had seen. They had been kind enough to take him in and care for him when he had no family. How could he compound their problems by admitting that he was still haunted by the night that took his parents away from him forever?
* * *
It was a hot afternoon when Rannoch and Torcall arrived at their clan. Neither man was eager to face Dirk. Torcall dreaded speaking of what happened and knew that there wasn’t a way to hide it. With Rannoch injured, their best bet was telling the truth.
Rannoch feared admitting to his Faither that he had been injured in a fight against mere ruffians. In contrast, Torcall feared admitting that not only had it happened on his watch, but what had ensued had been something he claimed hadn’t happened in years.
However, they had no choice. Rannoch’s limp had become even more noticeable, and it couldn’t be hidden. They submitted themselves in Dirk’s receiving chamber and waited for him to come out.
“What happened to ye both?” he asked the pair.
Together, they narrated the activities of the day.
“What route were ye taking?” Dirk bellowed at both boys, even without letting them explain fully.
“If ye would listen--” Rannoch started, but Dirk wasn’t having any of it.
“Ye were almost killed. There were what—six men, and ye thought it safe to advance without a plan?”
“‘Twas me ide--” Torcall started, but Dirk caught them both short.
“I do nae care whose idea it was. Ye must never go into a fight without a plan. ‘Tis the fastest way to get killed. Ye were two against six. Always have a plan.”
“But we won,” Rannoch said, and Torcall wished he hadn’t. It would only elongate the fight and make his uncle think he was being argued with.
“At what cost?” He fumed. “Ye terrified the young girl, and I wouldnae be surprised if she fears ye as much as she fears the men that wanted to rape her!”
His words pierced Torcall badly, but he said nothing. Instead, he looked away out of the window.
“Torcall is impulsive, stubborn,” he said to Rannoch, “I expect ye to guide him when ye go out. I expect ye to be his reason.” Dirk turned to Torcall. “And ye, yer cousin cannae do as well as ye can on the battlefield. Ye cannae charge into a battle and forget that he will have to defend himself too!”
Torcall, who was now looking at his uncle, looked away.
“And ye lied to me. I didnae expect it of ye. We have seen ye in a fit of rage before. We ken what ye can do. ‘Tis reason for ye to tell us the truth, but instead, ye lied.”
Dirk stepped back with his hands crossed behind his back and addressed the two. “I sent ye out together because I ken ye both. Rannoch is the ice, and Torcall the fire. I count on ye,” he said, turning to Rannoch, “to be a better schemer.” He turned to Torcall. “And I expect ye to win every battle ye fight because I ken ye can. I put ye two together to strengthen each other by making up for each other’s flaws. Ye didnae do that today.” He shook his head, disappointed.
“Faither--” Rannoch tried, but he was cut short.
“Enough. I will hear naught more from either of ye. Leave me presence at once. See to it that yer leg is checked, Rannoch,” Dirk ordered and walked out of the room.
The room was suddenly empty without Dirk’s booming and enraged voice.
“Ye didnae have to tell him about me slipping off,” Torcall sighed.
“And ye didnae have to tell him about me injury.”
“He would see it himself, ye bloody fool,” Torcall said, but a smile was creeping onto his face.
“Perhaps,” Rannoch agreed. He, too, was smiling. However, his smile faded soon. “Ye should have told me, Torcall. I need to ken everythin’,” Rannoch said.
“‘Tis nae somethin’ I wish to speak about, Rannoch.”
