“So why does nobody stand up to him?” Adam was puzzled.
“Because when you first meet him he is very likeable,” Father Gordon replied. “Then slowly you discover that he is treacherous and deceptive, and has begun to take away from you everything you have so stealthily that you do not understand how it happened. He has been known to sneak his own men, and even his own women, into your employ, mostly by intimidating their families.
“He has learned to forge signatures on important documents, and he is an expert livestock thief. But by the time you know all this, he has earned your trust, and you cannot believe it is he who has done this to you. He is also a proficient blackmailer, having bled many a laird and merchant dry this way.
“He also uses force. He has over fifty men at his command, all equipped with pikes and claymores, with armor and war horses, while this village has just over twenty guards and a few dozen men of fighting age, and the best weapons they can come up with are spades and pitchforks.
“My best advice to you is to have nothing to do with him, Adam. He is the spawn of Satan.”
“He sounds thoroughly despicable.” Adam sounded horrified, but at the same time he was asking himself if the priest was blowing things out of proportion. He might have reasons of his own to discredit Robert. Then there was the death threat.
“Father, earlier you said that if I did not stay to help the village I would not get out of here alive. Did you mean that?”
Father Gordon threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Of course not, my friend!” he answered. “I was angry and spoke in the heat of the moment. I would never hurt you or let anyone else do so. I was merely expressing my frustration. You are our last hope, you see. Without your help we will be the next target. You cannot reason with him, not even by using the name of God, for he worships no god but money and power. He loves to have people fear him.”
Adam began to wonder if the priest was exaggerating or not. Adam prided himself on being a reasonable judge of character and he had liked Robert McElwee as soon as he met him, but he could have made an error in judgment.
He was in two minds about the priest too. His descriptions sounded as if he had been a little economical with the truth. The part about slave traders, for example...how would they get to Inverinch? By boat, he supposed, but even if he believed the rest of Father Gordon’s account, that part sounded too fanciful to be true.
He left the chapel in two minds, not knowing who to trust, and as he said goodbye to the priest, Father Gordon blessed him and clasped Adam’s two hands in both of his own. “I will pray for you,” he said earnestly. “Call on me if you need me, Adam.”
“I will, Father,” he said, smiling.
He watched the little priest walk away, still feeling doubtful and confused. Father Gordon was a prophet of doom, he reflected, and after all, if Robert McElwee had committed a crime against the priest, he was bound to feel aggrieved.
He decided to see McElwee again in a few days, but keep his distance till then, and when he met him, tell him nothing about his personal affairs. Dammit! He wished he had someone to advise him!
He went back outside and saw that one of the frequent storms were approaching as the sky blackened towards the east, and decided to walk up to the turrets before the storm came in full force. He noticed that when he passed the servants they avoided his eye and did not greet him at all, which he found very disrespectful.
After the fourth such occurrence, he grabbed the arm of the offending woman and dragged her back along the corridor with him. When he passed others he crooked his finger at them and beckoned them to follow. They took one look at his face and obeyed. Soon, he had a little procession of a dozen chambermaids, then he called the butler who spoke a little English and asked him to come and translate. The full complement of staff was not there, but a dozen would be enough to spread the word.
“Come and translate for me, Francis,” he asked the butler. “We have an unpleasant situation here.”
“M’Laird...” Francis was stony-faced as he looked at Adam. “What is the problem?”
“The problem,” Adam explained patiently, “is that these people are treating their Laird, who controls their entire lives and ensures that they eat every day, with a distinct lack of respect. In the future I do not expect to be ignored and talked about as if I were a simpleton. I do not speak Gaelic, but I will learn it. If you despise me because I am English then I suggest you find employment elsewhere. I cannot change where I was born, and I am not putting up with this rudeness any longer. I am your Laird and I deserve your respect.”
One of the men spoke up. “Why should we respect you when you try to take our country away from us?” he asked.
The butler translated and Adam went forward to poke the man in the chest with his forefinger. The man backed away. “Because I am your master!” Adam cried, and the man cringed away from him. “Because I am owed respect by you. Remember that you are here to serve me and I am your employer, and if I want to I can release any you from my service any time I choose. So now if I pass you in the corridor, bow your head, or else suffer the consequences!”
Francis had translated all of this, and when he finished speaking there was an angry rumble of discontent from the staff.They have made it quite clear that they despise me, Adam thought,but at least they’ll be frightened enough now not to show it, and that will make my life a little more bearable.
Suddenly he realized that he was completely worn out. It had been a tumultuous day, and he felt as if he had been wrung out like a sponge. He had no manservant yet, and neither did he want one, since he was not even sure if he was staying.
It seemed like a very hostile place to put down roots, and he began to feel a deep longing to see again the leafy green woods and lush verdant pastures of his home in England.
Even the animals here were different; the sheep had black faces and feet, and the cattle were shaggy and red, with huge, dangerous horns. But then everything here looked frightening to his eyes, probably because he was new to it all. Would he ever get used to it? He was not sure he wanted to find out.
It had not all been bad, though. He thought of the lovely girl he had met that morning. Emilia was the most beautiful creature he had seen for ages, although he had to admit that he was used to a little more deference from his inferiors. However, there was no doubt that she was a few ranks above his servants in the social hierarchy, and it was not inconceivable that she could become his mistress. He would certainly make it worth her while. But he was too harsh with her, which did not make for a good first impression.
The thought kept him awake for a long time as he visualized what she would look like unclothed, and he fell into a troubled sleep a long time later.
6
Adam was not the only one who could not sleep.
Emilia was tossing and turning in her bed long after sunset, troubled by thoughts of the handsome stranger, remembering his eyes especially. They were dark blue, lightening towards the pupil to blue-gray, and were the most arresting eyes she had ever seen. Her mother Agnes had blue eyes too, but they did not look like Adam’s in the slightest. She was mad with the man. He was rude to her while she was trying to help him. She thought that she should have been less polite with him. Emilia wished she could see him again so she could repay the favor.
