Gordon was the only man Alexander had ever known who could drink his weight in ale and never show it. The only tell was that he stood a little taller and spoke a little clearer.
Sitting next to Marion with the firelight on her features, Alexander could not recall another time he’d been preoccupied with his own future, family, children, the future of the clan. All of it ran through hismind in a flash the moment he caught her gaze.
“I am glad you are seated next to me, Lady Marion. I do hope that you enjoy our version of telling stories, though I look forward to experiencing yours as well.”
“Aye, my lord, I am very much looking forward to this as I have always discovered that during such tellings, various truths are gleaned that may help us understand one another better.”
He couldn’t agree more and once again admired the way her mind turned.
“You will find that is very much the case with us as well, but I must warn you,” he said and leaned in close to her ear, “some of Gordon’s tales should be taken with a grain of salt.”
She laughed which was a delight to his ears. The thought of his actions and struggles causing her discomfort did not sit well with him. He would be sure to be far more mindful in the future with her.
“I assumed as much, my lord. Though I admit, ’tis wee Archie’s stories I am most interested in hearing.”
“Now those are tall, despite the wee lad’s height.”
“May I ask you something?”
“Aye, please do, my lady.”
“I noticed your younger siblings calling you by a shortened version of your given name.”
“Aye.”
“Is that a tradition in your family?”
“Aye, I suppose it is. My father always encouraged us to do that versus my lord which he felt was far too formal. We keep the formality with the staff and villagers so as to maintain distinction, but even Gordon there calls me wee man just the same as he did when I was but a bairn.”
“I like that. My family are quite informal with one another as well. Thank you for being open and honest with me.”
He nodded and then sat back, pleased as Gordon commanded the attention of everyone in the hall.
Chapter Thirteen
The man introducedhimself as Gordon, and from that moment, Marion hung off every word that fell from his lips. The chair was there for him to sit and sometimes he did, but mostly he moved about the crowd weaving his tales of faeries and sprites, of witches and selkies, and she loved every second of it.
“But the worst of ’em is a creature so cunning ye don’t know you’re under her spell until ’tis too late.” He sat for this story and seemed to enjoy the gasps among the crowd. “Glaistig is what the old folk called her. Nine times she’s tried to drown me in the loch, but I outwit her every time, that I do.
“Now, you mind when walking these woods if ye see a stream, ye better turn the other way, for there she will be waiting all dressed in green with a long skirt to hide her goat legs. She will call your name sweetly and ask ye for aid, but don’t turn toward her for that’s when she will cast her spell and draw you to the water.
“She’s nearly gotten me, but I know her ways now. I know how to ward her off.”
Marion leaned forward, for though the stories of myths and legends were abundant in her neck of the woods, she’d never heard anything like this Glaistig which seemed far more malevolent than a ghostly piper or a will-o’-the-wisp.
“And do ye want to know how, lass?”
So taken with his story was she that she jumped slightly when he addressed her directly. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Aye, well ye see, ye have to call her by her real name. I heard her singing it to herself one day and that’s how I knew.”
Marion cleared her voice and dared ask, “And what is her name?”
“I dare not say it out loud, lest we might summon her. But I’ll whisper it to ye,” he said and motioned her forward.
Marion looked up at Alexander who nodded to her. Standing on shaky legs, she approached the old man and leaned close to his ear.
“BOO!”
