“Aye,” MacNear agreed. “Me Laird, let’s kill ‘em all.”
“Nay,” Gavin said, shaking his head. “I won’t be the one tae break the truce.”
“They already broke it,” MacNear hissed. “That’s a war party.”
Gavin looked back and forth between them and then back down to the riders. After a moment of thought, he said, “If yer men will camp outside, then ye can come in.” Kyle looked at him sharply.
“Allow me two men,” Simon replied. “For my own comfort. And replenishment?”
“You have silver?” Gavin inquired.
“I have silver,” Simon said, smiling.
“Very well,” Gavin called, giving Simon a nod. “We are agreed.”
“Brither!” Kyle said, taking Gavin’s shoulder.
“Bah!” MacNear spat.
“This is the future,” Gavin whispered to them. “If a truce is ever tae hold. I will nay be the one tae start a war.” Then he turned back to the riding party and called down, “You are in luck, Sir Simon; we are feasting this evening.”
“Well, that is lucky!” Simon yelled. Then he pointed out two men and issued the rest to the grasslands just beyond the walls. Before the three of them reached the gatehouse, Kyle walked away, heated with his brother’s decision to admit the English. They were clearly warriors, and Kyle didn’t like having warriors in his home, whether they were English or not. The fact that they were, well, that only made it worse.
As he passed a guardsman on his way down the stairs, he turned and said, “Double up tonight, bows trained on them all evening.”
“Yes, m’Laird,” the guard said.
“I’m not the Laird,” Kyle muttered as he stormed his way back to the keep.
Kyle went back to his chambers so he could prepare for the feast. He was angry now and irritable, and he knew he needed a moment. He went to his water basin and splashed his face a few times, trying to steady himself.
He turned and noticed an outfit laying out on his bed, a new set of fine clothes with a dark blue, embroidered pattern of vines. It was beautiful, and Kyle sat down slowly on his stool.This is the future.His brother’s voice rang in his head as he looked at the clothes.
“Maybe it is,” he said aloud and proceeded to dress.
“Oi!” Domnal exclaimed, walking in as Kyle pulled his tunic about his waist. “Looking sharp!”
“Christ, man!” Kyle said. “Shut the door!”
“Right, course,” Domnal said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.
“I meant—” Kyle started but quickly gave up.
“Heard there’s a pair of Englishmen going tae be at the feast,” Domnal said, walking over to the window and glancing up at the weather.
“Aye,” Kyle said, finishing his tunic. “I’m trying nay tae think about it.”
“Good enough for me,” Domnal said. “You ready yet?”
“Well, I am now, aren’t I?” Kyle threw in jest as he buckled up his long dagger.
The pair worked their way down out of the tower and crossed the yard. The hall was giving off a great amount of noise and light, even in the early evening, and the two entered with a dramatic opening of the doors.
There was a general cheer that went up as the two made a fun entry, and Domnal turned and said, “That’s why I love goin’ round with ye. People bleedin’ love ye.”
“Sure, that’s nay for ye, Domnal?” Kyle laughed back, and the two made their way to the head table. The usual tables had been pushed to the hall walls, and there were a great number of foods and drinks arrayed. Near the far end of the space, the minstrels were established, and they strummed away at a medium-paced jaunt while handfuls of people were dancing in the center of the room.
Kyle sat down beside his brother at the head table and surveyed the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Laila. He wanted her to see him in the tunic, but he couldn’t make her out anywhere in the crowd.
