Page 6

“Aye, I did,” he snapped. “Something needed tae be done. The longer we waited, the more there was a chance that they would hurt other people, and I was nae gaeing tae let that happen. We went out tae the area where the bandits had been sighted, and we encountered them. Aye, they were surprised tae see us alright, and they were talented with their swords. A few of my men were wounded, but we drove them back, and I even killed one of them. They’ll think twice before they dare tae harm people who are under the protection of the Calbraiths!”

“But what about Da’s plan? He’ll be furious.” The strength fled from Maura’s legs, and she had to sink to the bed.

“He’ll be pleased. Da haes always wanted me tae take the initiative and lead, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. He wants me tae be a leader, well, I’ve led. Ye should hae seen it! They never knew we were coming. They didnae even hae a trap planned! Ye would hae thought they’d hae been better organized, but I suppose we expected tae much of bandits.”

“Did ye capture any of them?” Maura asked.

Ruairi’s face fell. “Nay,” he said softly. “Some of my men were wounded, and we haed tae make sure we took care of them.” Then his voice took on a defiant tone again. “But it doesnae matter. I killed one of them, and they’re gaeing tae be tae scared tae fight again. I sent them a message, and they’re nae gaeing tae ignore it.”

It was very brave, Maura had to concede, but it was still a worrisome turn of events. And if these bandits were still out there, they might well retaliate. Ruairi didn’t seem to be fazed, though. He was reliving the glory of battle because everything was simple in his mind. He had yet to learn that life was complicated. Maura pressed her lips together and rubbed her temples, knowing that her plans for the day had to be cast aside because she couldn’t imagine her father being happy about this, even if Ruairi had convinced himself.

The scene at the McGrory castle was a despondent one. Kevan McGrory was aching all over after the unexpected fight.

“They came out of nowhere. We didnae see them. John, he…he fought bravely. But in the darkness, we haed no chance. They were like demons emerging from the darkness,” Kevan said, running his hand through his long, dank hair, which was matted with sweat and blood. His green eyes were filled with sorrow, and the thunder of battle still echoed in his mind. They had been on a mission of peace, seeking to investigate the attack of the bandits, when suddenly they had been set upon by a group of men that fought like vicious animals. The battle had been fierce and short, but the price that had been paid was a heavy one. Now Kevan was standing in front of his uncle, having delivered the worst news any man could hope to hear: his son and his heir was dead.

Wallace McGrory had a reputation as being a hard, callous man, with the emotions of a stone. But in his shadowed eyes, Kevan could see genuine sorrow. His voice was like cracked ice, and his body seemed to age a hundred years all at once as the sorrow came crashing down around him.

“Aye, that’s the way cowards fight alright. Perhaps this whole plot with the bandits was a ruse tae draw us out and kill my son,” Wallace said.

“But why? Why would they dae this now of all times? The Calbraiths hae nae sought war for as long as I hae known.”

“Blood runs deep in a family. The young Laird Niall might hae claimed that he was unlike his father, but it’s clear that he is more like that devious laird than he would like us tae believe. He must be worried about our expansion, putting us in place, thinking that we’ll stop after we’ve haed a bloodied nose. Well, we’re nae gaeing tae stop.”

Wallace curled his fist and slammed it onto the hard throne. Beside him, his wife, Elaine, was weeping at the news of their fallen son. Kevan could share in his uncle’s enmity. An enemy who would strike at a clan using such subterfuge was dishonorable and deserved everything they got, but it still didn’t ring true with what he knew of the Calbraith clan. The reputation in the past was of a clan that was vicious and harsh, but that had changed as Niall had taken on the position of laird. Peace had reigned in the land during their alliance with the Monroe clan, and Kevan couldn’t quite understand what Laird Calbraith was getting from such an attack. However, his mind was still dazed from the shock of being ambushed; perhaps there was something missing or something he hadn’t considered. Wallace was a sly man, and there was little that escaped his attention, so Kevan was happy to acquiesce to his judgment in these matters. The fact was that John McGrory was dead at the hands of the Calbraiths, and there would have to be consequences.

Wallace poured himself a drink of wine and gulped it down, then offered it to Kevan. While Kevan wasn’t in the mood for wine, he knew it was for a tribute to John. Wallace thrust it into his hand, and Kevan took a large mouthful, wiping the remnants from his lips. His head grew even more dazed.

“Now, then...we must think about what tae dae next. First, we shall hae a funeral for my son. And then…then…” Wallace’s sharp old eyes rose and settled on Kevan in a manner that the younger man found unsettling. The corners of Wallace’s mouth were upturned, and the crinkled skin looked like dried parchment. He chuckled to himself as though he had just thought of something most amusing. “Yes…yes…Kevan, my boy, you shall become laird in my son’s absence.” Wallace beckoned him to kneel before him, but Kevan remained rooted to the spot. Stunned, he shook his head.

“But ye hae years left in ye, my laird. It is nae my place,” Kevan stammered.

“Ye will dae as I ask. Ye are my blood, and that is enough. This news takes a heavy toll on me, and I will need tae mourn my son. I cannae grieve and be laird tae this clan. It was soon gaeing tae be time for John tae take over anyway, but ye are a good replacement. Ye are strong like he is, and I know that the passion for this clan runs through ye. Ye and John were more like brothers than cousins, and I can think of nobody better tae take his place then ye. Besides, if this is the beginning of war, then the clan is gaeing tae need a warrior tae lead them, and my fighting days are behind me, as much as I wish they weren’t. I would like tae take the head of the man who killed my son for myself, but in my stead, ye will hae tae dae it. Ye will be the one tae get revenge for us!” Wallace’s voice rose to a thunder, and spittle flew from his mouth. Both his fists were clenched, and there was a furious look in his eyes. “We will fight back and we will nae take this insult lightly! They hae taken my son, and we shall strike back without mercy. Kneel, lad…kneel.”

Kevan did as his laird commanded. He felt the old man’s thin fingers scraping along his scalp. Kevan bowed his head as Wallace cackled with a manic laugh, declaring to all who were in attendance that Kevan was now going to be the laird to the McGrory clan, that he was going to lead them in this war that the Calbraiths had started, and that he was going to soak these lands with Calbraith blood until there was none left.

Goosebumps rose upon Kevan’s arms. He had never prepared for this moment, had never even fathomed that he could be thrust into this situation. He had been content to be a warrior and to stand by his cousin, but now he was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to get revenge for John, but on the other, he couldn’t ignore the conversations he and John had had. Wallace didn’t know it, but there were matters upon which he and John disagreed. Kevan’s head was still groggy and there was a dazed thrum inside, like an incessant drumbeat that would not cease. The world wasn’t like the one that Wallace had grown up in. Things had changed, and sometimes people had to change with them. There was something that didn’t seem right about this, something that seemed amiss that Kevan couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He wondered if he was being too idealistic. After all, John was dead at Calbraith hands. Those were the facts of the matter. Perhaps he and John had been mistaken in thinking that peace could be the way forward.

“As ye wish, my laird,” Kevan said, bowing before the older man. Wallace smiled. His chest rose and fell, and he patted Kevan’s head as a master would a dog’s.

“Ye are the laird now, and ye dinnae hae tae answer tae anyone,” Wallace said.

There was a lump in Kevan’s throat. This responsibility that had been thrust upon him…was it too much? Suddenly, he was in a position that he had never anticipated and never coveted. But perhaps in this way, it was only fitting. At least he would be in a position to avenge John and bring the killer to justice.

“Aye, but I will seek yer wisdom in these matters, for ye hae the benefit of experience. How shall we carry out our revenge?” Kevan asked.

Wallace leaned back in his chair and withdrew his hand from Kevan’s head. The spiderweb fingers clasped together, and Wallace’s eyes narrowed, the thin skin crinkling at the edges as a plan formed in his mind.

“Before the storm comes a whisper. We will send a letter outlining John’s death, and then we shall see how the laird responds. Perhaps he shall offer up a worthy tribute tae help alleviate our grief.”

Kevan nodded. Wallace was well known for his talent in making deals wherever he could, and Kevan knew that if the clan was going to continue to prosper, he would need to rely on Wallace’s prowess in trade. Despite their grief, and despite Kevan needing to recover from battle, Wallace wasted no time in calling a scribe to his side so that a letter might be taken down. While Elaine wept for her son, Wallace’s mind turned like a wheel, and words flew from his tongue, well-chosen and sharp, like a sword sharpened for precise blows. Then, a messenger was sent across the land on a swift horse to deliver a message.

“Oh, how I’d like tae see the face of Laird Calbraith when our letter arrives,” Wallace said, cackling a little. Some men liked to grieve in solitude and silence, while other men preferred to take action to distract themselves from the grim emotions. Wallace seemed to be the latter. Kevan wondered how Laird Niall Calbraith would react as well. Was war inevitable, or was there a way out of this through peace? Kevan’s stomach twisted in knots, as he wasn’t sure which way would honor John best. Should he honor the legacy of the man by holding up his ideals, or should he get revenge by any means necessary? He was glad when he was able to stagger away and tend to his wounds, to try and collect his thoughts. Sorrow weighed down his heart, though, and he could not celebrate being made laird in these circumstances.

4

“Ye hae tae tell Da,” Maura said.