Page 23 of Highland Spy

“Bridget, I’d like ye and yer faither to meet my brathairs, Grant, Quinn and Finn,” said Caleb, re-sheathing his sword. “Rhoswen, ye already ken them.”

“Hello,” said Rhoswen, sheathing her sword as well.

“Nice to meet ye.” Bridget smiled and nodded toward the men.

“There’s one of the lost souls,” said Brigham pointing behind the men. The fog was just starting to lift, but they could see the shadow of a man on a horse as he turned and quickly disappeared.

“Who was that?” asked Caleb. “Did ye bring Da with ye, too?” he asked his brothers.

“Nay, it’s just the three of us,” said Finn, looking off into the distance.

“We came as soon as we got the pigeon. That’s how we kent ye left,” explained Quinn.

“I told Da ye’d take this shortcut past the priory,” added Grant. “I kent ye’d come this way to save time. Ye always were impatient.”

“Excuse me,” said Bridget, holding up a finger. She looked back at her father. “My faither wants to ken what ye meant by sayin’ ye came as soon as ye got the pigeon.” She made a face and looked back at the boys.

“They’re talkin’ about the messenger pigeon,” Caleb explained. “Didna ye see the pens we keep at the Highland camp as well as at Hermitage Castle filled with pigeons?”

“Aye,” said Bridget, looking back at her father. “We do remember seein’ them.”

“Well, that’s how we communicate over great distances,” relayed Caleb. “We also have carrier pigeons in England where each of our laird, Storm’s wife’s, siblin’s reside.”

“So ye send messages with the birds,” said Brigham, understanding what he meant.

“Exactly,” answered Caleb. “It has helped us many times to let the rest of the MacKeefes or our allies in England ken what is goin’ on.”

“I dinna like it here. I suggest we stick together and get back to Hermitage Castle as quickly as possible,” said Logan.

“I agree,” said Bridget feeling unsettled. “With the Leader of the Lairds Competition startin’ tomorrow, there will be much to do and we shouldna tarry.”

“We’ve received a missive sayin’ the king will be joinin’ us for the competition this year,” Quinn told them.

“The king is comin’ to Hermitage Castle?” asked Caleb in surprise.

“I canna wait to see the king again,” said Bridget’s father. “Which king will be there?”

“King Robert, Faither,” Bridget told him. “Ye are always jestin’. We should go now.” As they headed out into the fog, the last person she wanted her father to be around right now was the king.

Chapter 8

Caleb led the way back to Hermitage Castle, with Logan at his side. Grant brought up the rear. The twins stayed on each side of the women and Brigham. None of them felt at ease after spending time at Dutmore Priory. And no one but Bridget knew who that man was that they saw riding away in the fog. Valan Douglas was a man that haunted her yet, being from her past. She never wanted to see him again, and neither did she want to tell Caleb and the others that she even knew him. Some things were better left unsaid.

Hours later, they finally rode up to Hermitage Castle on the border. Bridget looked around in awe at all the colorful tents and banners that spotted the grassy open area in front of the castle. People were coming in droves for the competition, camping outside the castle’s gates. Many of them were roaming around inside the courtyard, too.

“Look, Faither. Have ye ever seen so many people in one place at one time?” she asked him.

“Hmph,” snorted Brigham. “It was like this every day at court. So where is our king?”

“I dinna ken,” she said, looking around. Burly Highlanders with plaids of red, yellow, green and blue swarmed around the area, while children flocked to their sides. Women with large trays of food and drinks made their ways through the crowd. A team of strolling musicians played music on their lutes, while jugglers tossed balls and eggs in the air, making the women nervous and the children laugh. A group of young, bonnie Scottish whores stood just outside the gate, giggling and making eyes at the men as they entered to register for the competition.

“My, it’s crowded,” commented Bridget as they slowly made their way over the drawbridge, being careful not to trample the old woman selling flowers or the young children chasing the goat.

“Since Storm is hostin’ the competition this year, he wanted to make sure everythin’ is festive and grand,” said Caleb. “He’s a lot like Hawke and likes to put on a show.”

“Hawke isna like that,” commented Logan. “I think ye fill that description better since ye tend to like the attention.”

“Really?” asked Bridget. “I didna realize ye like attention, Caleb.”