“Because yer rememberin’ is full of untruths, ye hae tae be a realist, the halls are dark and the men are as likely tae curse ye as pass ye a beer.”
I scoffed.
Kaitlyn said, “Our boy just ran off, are you saying he’s in danger, Sean?”
“Beg yer pardon, Madame Kaitlyn, I was just havin’ fun, that lad, nae, he is watched over by my sons, just like I watched over Magnus, tis why he thinks all was well, because he’s the bairn of the family.”
Fraoch said, “The wee, verra wee bairn of the family.”
I said, “Och nae, ye are gangin’ up on me.”
Kaitlyn looked around, “Where is Lady Mairead?”
I said, “She’s likely meeting with the Earl, she is introducin’ Wilfred tae him.”
“I doubt the Earl is goin’ tae like the young, dashin’ Wilfrey much,” said Fraoch.
Magnus said, “Luckily she daena hae tae care what he thinks.”
Lizbeth said, “Yet she still does.”
Sean and Magnus both nodded. “Aye.”
Lizbeth was spooning honey ontae a bannock when her eyes went tae a crowd gathered near the walls.
I looked over.
She muttered, “Och nae, the servants are whispering.”
Two kitchen maids passed behind our table, their heads bent close together.
I overheard, “—in the Earl’s solar?—”
I turned tae look over m’other shoulder. “—never heard Lady Mairead raise her voice like that?—”
Sean looked up from tearing a piece of bread. “Och nae, did ye hear them?”
I said, “Aye, I heard.”
Lizbeth had gone still, her eyes shiftin’ around the room.
Across the Great Hall a pair of grooms paused near the hearth, speakin’ low. One of them glanced toward the stair that led tae the Earl’s chambers.
Even the steward at the high board had stopped pouring ale and was starin’ toward the stair.
Lizbeth leaned closer across the table. “Sean, go find out, something has happened.”
Sean frowned. “I will go talk tae Red Tam, he always kens the tidings. He tossed down his napkin, stood, and stalked over, not too far away, I was able tae catch bits. Red Tam said, “Aye, I heard she called him a disgrace—” He waved over a lass named Wee Jean.
I pushed back in my chair, listening.
Sean asked, “He was furious?”
Wee Jean said, “Aye, sire, he was verra angry, she accused him of the murderin’ of the MacDonalds, ye ken,” she whispered, but not quietly enough, more out of reverence than volume, “ofGlencoe.”
Sean grimaced and glanced over at me.
I nodded, bitin’ my lip.
