Page 36 of Highlander’s Sloth

An End and a Beginning

Kirsty did not know what they would see when the cellar door began to open. Laird and Lady Macanroy had been cowering down here since the siege had ended, and the attempt to overrun the lodge had begun in earnest. True to her word, Kirsty comforted her husband’s parents, making sure they were of good cheer about their chances. But in her heart, she knew their fates hung on a knife’s edge.

Laird Gilbert MacGill stuck his head around the door.

“Greetings, Sister,” he said gravely. “I see ye’ve no’ been able to stay out of trouble.”

Then he smiled, and Kirsty ran to hug him. “Gil! I’ve never been so glad to see ye in me life! I promise never to ride yer destriers without yer permission again.”

Her brother hugged her back, saying, “Buy yer own horses with all the gold we stand to make from this famous whisky receipt of ours, ye wee minx.”

When her brother went to make his bow to Laird and Lady Macanroy, Kirsty saw Gearr Drever and Dunn standing in the dark cellar passage.

“Where’s Cal?” she asked anxiously. “Please tell me he’s unharmed.”

Dunn nodded. “Ye can come back upstairs with me and see for yerself, milady,” he said, and waited for Kirsty to greet Gearr warmly before escorting her up to the top.

A dreary sight met her eyes, but Kirsty expected this. It was not the first aftermath of battle she had seen. The air was redolent of smoke and ashes, and she could hear the sounds of men groaning in pain, but there was a distinct bustle as the winning side set about cleaning up the mess and taking prisoners. Dunn led her over to where Callum was overseeing his men quench the last of the small fires the arrows had set alight, but when he saw her, he left his command and ran to meet her. He was exhausted but still had the strength to pick her up and shout, “Yer brither came and saved the day, Kirsty! It was a lucky day for the Macanroy clan when ye decided to marry me.”

Dunn looked down on the ground, slightly abashed as the husband and wife passionately kissed one another. Callum broke it off, whispering into Kirsty’s ear, “I better do this now afore yer brither comes back and tells us to knock it off.” Kirsty giggled.

And indeed, Gilbert soon came out into the courtyard, looking about him in a businesslike way, saying, “Well, let’s get on with it.”

Kirsty knew what her brother meant: they had to decide what to do with Laird Duncombe and Baron Lloyd.

The two men had been set in chains and had four armed guards standing watch over them. When Kirsty looked at them, she thought they looked more like two bedraggled old men, one skinny and mean-looking and the other resembling a fat sulky publican. They didn’t look frightening at all. Then she remembered that these two old men had sought to enrich themselves by means of blackmail, kidnap, and extortion, and when those methods failed, they had attacked the lodge without provocation with the intent to kill. Knowing these things hardened her heart.

Callum looked at Gilbert. “I’m new to this, Laird MacGill, and am therefore happy to take yer lead in how to deal with these two scoundrels.”

Gilbert was tired and already bored with the whole affair. “I’ll take ‘em back with me to Mac an Goill,” he said in an offhand manner. “This one”—he tapped Baron Lloyd’s backside with the toe of his boot—“can stand to spend a few months in me dungeons on a diet of bread and water. And as for Laird Duncombe, I’ll ransom him back to his clan—that’s even if they want the auld devil back—and send the ransom money down here to ye for reparations.”

The two villainous old men could not say a word in protest; Gearr Drever had stuffed each of their mouths with a sweaty old woolen Scotch bonnet.

The attack on Macanroy Lodge had gone hard on Laird Lachlan, and when he stayed in his bed after they moved him back up to his chambers, even Kirsty could see it was not out of laziness. The old laird was dying.

The family gathered around Lachlan’s bed, and he asked for his son to come closer so he could tell him his final words.

“I never thought to question how a stolen receipt might be cursed enough to lead to the downfall of me clan, Son, but if ye had nae married Kirsty MacGill, the name of Macanroy might even now be lost to the passing of time. Forgive me that I did no’ teach ye better, and make sure what happened to us does nae happen to Laird MacGill.”

Callum had pressed his father’s hand. “It will nae happen, Faither. The receipt was freely given and now lies in the keeping of those who ken of the curse. The sin of sloth will nae hold power over us ever again, I swear.”

Callum, Kirsty, and Lady Elspeth stayed with old Laird Lachlan until he took his last breath. His death left the family older and wiser in many ways.

After the funeral, Lady Elspeth handed Callum a letter from his father.

“What does it say?” Kirsty wanted to know.

Callum handed the letter over to her to read, saying, “He saw the light and the error of his ways. And wants me to ensure the whisky never takes such a stronghold of our lives again.”

Kirsty sighed and replied, “Surely, but that has always been obvious to me. Me governess, Miss MacCorkindale, used to say that no one can rise to make a good day’s hunting when they stayed up late the night before with a bottle o’ whisky.”

“And so I should think!” Lady Elspeth exclaimed. “Why, I have enough trouble waking on Sunday to go to chapel when I had more than two glasses of wine the night before!”

They smiled at the thought of Lady Elspeth going to bed drunk, and then Callum moved closer to his wife to discuss a clan meeting they had planned. It was time to organize an army.