“Head up,” the king said. “You are Jock MacGregor and you fund my fight against the English. I bow to you.” He inclined his head slightly.
“We have prepared a feast for your arrival, my king.”
“And we will be glad to indulge. First though, I must speak with you alone.”
“As you wish.”
The king headed up the steps of the keep, Jock followed. No one else moved. Once inside they entered the great hall, the king taking the nearest bench and motioning for Jock to sit opposite him. “I hear rumors about Clan MacGregor,” the king said. “Worrying rumors.”
“About what, my king?”
“That you have no money to give, that it has been lost or spent or stolen. Is this true?”
“I cannot deny we have had a number of issues in recent days but I am led to believe all will be well soon enough.”
“So you can show me a full treasury then?”
“Not at this moment.”
The king raised his eyebrows. “Not at this moment? When then?”
“After you have eaten, my king. The food will go cold and the ale warm.”
The king looked as if he might yell but then he burst out laughing. “A feast it is. Get the rest of them in here then.”
He stood up, moving across to the dais as Jock opened the door and waved a servant over. Soon the great hall was a cacophony of noise and smells.
The minstrels played up in the gallery, a jongleur passing between the tables, telling tall tales and performing acrobatic feats for anyone who asked.
Jock sat up on the dais near the king, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Did he know? How could he? Unless Robin had gotten word to him already.
The food was excellent, the cook herself bringing Jock and the king their dishes. She also brought a fresh flagon of ale when Jock’s ran low, pouring it out for him while telling him, “A special brew, my laird. Be sure to let me know how it tastes.”
The king held up his own tankard but as she went to fill it she tripped, spilling the contents of her flagon upon the rushes. “A thousand apologies, your highness,” she said. “I will bring a replacement immediately.”
“A toast,” the king said, “while I wait for a top up. The dregs will do for I have the dregs of my people in front of me. The true fighting men are as we speak preparing to take on the English swine. This man here, Jock MacGregor, may make the difference between victory and defeat. With his help, we will have enough armor to take on ten armies.”
A cheer went up around the room. “To Clan MacGregor,” they all shouted at once.
Jock tried to smile. There was no sign of Daisy. What was he to do? He raised his tankard high with the rest but as he was about to drink, the king turned to him and whispered, “Take me to the treasury now.”
“I cannot,” Jock replied, realizing all was lost.
“And why is that?”
“Because it is empty.”
“Good God,” the king roared, pushing his chair back and slamming his fist into the table. “Someone seize this man before I cleave his head from his shoulders where he sits.”
Guards rushed the table. Jock reacted instinctively. The first two that reached him from the left, he shoved back. They fell into more and became tangled together on the floor. More were coming from the right. He grabbed his sword as they came, fending them off.
“Get hold of him!” the king cried. “He is but one man.”
Jock leaped over the table, landing in the aisle as more of the king’s guards ran toward him. “Don’t make me kill you in front of your own people,” the king said.
He hadn’t noticed the MacGregors rising. They were a proud people, unable to ignore the fate of their laird for any longer. Soon the entire hall was mired in a brawl.
Furniture broke, food was spilled, a lute snatched from the minstrels smashed onto the nearest head. Jock barely noticed when he made it out the door and into the courtyard. He fought well but there were too many of them.
The king’s men were swarming into the courtyard through the gates, gradually pushing the MacGregors away from their laird, leaving him alone in the middle of the courtyard. There was a door behind him that led to the kitchens but it was locked. There was no escape.
With his back to the door, Jock could only watch as a dozen of the king’s guards marched toward him, snarls upon their faces, swords outstretched. He raised his own blade, ready to go down fighting.
Leaning back, he took a deep breath as the guards all swung at once. Their swords whipped down through the air but just as he was sure they would slice his head into a dozen pieces, he fell backward, their blades cutting through thin air.
What was happening? He tumbled onto his back and before he even knew the reason he heard a voice he knew yelling at the top of her voice.
“Wait!” she cried, stepping over him and giving the guards no time to think. “I know where the money is hidden.”
Jock sat up in time to see the king pushing his way through his men. “You picked a fine time to come forward, lass. Know that if you are lying, your head will join that of your laird’s on a spike outside my favorite castle.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Daisy replied.
Jock smiled. She was braver than ten men, standing there an inch from death and yet not backing down.
“Come with me,” she said to the king, pointing behind her. “It’s this way.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daisy hoped she was right. Not least because of the swords being held by the distinctly unfriendly royal guards walking close behind her.
She was at the front of a crowd of people, all of them waiting to see what she had to show them. No doubt they wondered if it was a trap, if MacGregor men were waiting in the kitchen to pounce on them.
It was no trap.
She had used the silver key to travel back to her own time with one goal in mind. When she arrived inside her front door, she immediately ran through to the living room, glad to find Tabby was there.
“Where’s the book?” Daisy asked.
Tabby jumped at the sound of her voice, looking up from her cellphone. “You’ve been gone a week and that’s the first thing you say to me? Where’s the book? How about a, Hi Tabby, how are you?”
“What? I’ve not been gone a week.”
“Look at my cellphone. The date’s right there.”
Daisy glanced down at it before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. If it’s been a week here then who knows how long it’ll be when I get back.”
“Get back? What are you talking about?”
Daisy rubbed her eyes, taking a deep breath before answering. “I left Jock in the middle of a crisis that only I can solve. If I don’t get back to him in time he’s going to be executed.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible.”
“I know. I need to find the book you were reading to me. You know, the one about the keys.”
“It’s in my room. I’ve been keeping an eye on it. It keeps changing.”
“Changing?” Daisy asked, dashing through to Tabby’s bedroom, calling back over her shoulder. “What do you mean changing?”
Tabby appeared in the doorway behind her as she picked the book up. “I was rereading it after you went and I swear parts of the book were different to the first time.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What do you need it for anyway?”
Daisy flipped through the pages, scanning her way quickly until she reached the section she needed. “There,” she said, pointing. “Right there. I knew it. Tabby, I love you, you’re amazing.” She dropped the book, already pulling the silver key out.
“Wait,” Tabby said. “What’s all this about? What did you need the book for?”
“I promise, if this works out, I’ll come back and tell you everything but for now I’ve got to go.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Pray I’m not too late.” She slid the key into the front door and tur
ned it. “Bye, Tabby. See you soon, I hope.”
Then she was pulling the door open and stepping out into the kitchen of MacGregor Castle. She looked behind her. Tabby had gone. All that was there was a cupboard filled with tankards. The cook was staring at her like she’d appeared from nowhere. Which she had.
“Hi,” Daisy said, stopping dead as she saw what the cook was doing. All of a sudden it all made sense. She took a step forward, pretending not to have seen what the cook was doing. Noises reached her from outside. Shouting, lots of shouting. Was she too late?
She crossed to the hearth and examined the floor closely.
“What are you doing?” the cook said as she kneeled down, taking the poker from the hearth and wedging it under the corner of a loose flagstone. “You cannae do that. My fire will go out. The soup will spoil.”
Daisy ignored her, continuing to lever up the stone. It took all of her strength pushing down on the poker for it to slide up. She only caught a glimpse before the cook grabbed her but it was enough for her to know the book had been right.
It was a shame for the metal detectorists in the future. When her housemate had told her about the treasure being found in the 1980s, she’d slotted it somewhere in her memory, never expecting the information to be useful.
What else was it the book had said? That Jock had stolen the money and ruined the clan. “Not anymore,” she said out loud, shoving the cook backward. “Stay away from me.”
“You are a witch,” the cook said. “Get out of my kitchen.”
“With pleasure,” Daisy replied, heading for the door in the far corner, leaving the cook cursing loudly behind her.
Passing through a short corridor, she found the door at the end locked. “You’ve nowhere to go,” the cook said, brandishing the poker Daisy had left under the flagstone. “If you think you’re telling anyone what you saw, you’ve another thing coming.”
Daisy rattled the door again as the cook swung the poker through the air. The shouts outside were much louder, joined by the crashes of swords. What was going on out there?
An idea occurred to her as the cook drew nearer, the poker ready to bring down on her head. When the cook raised it for a final time, Daisy reached into her pocket and brought out the silver key, praying it would work.
It did.
She slid the key home into the lock and turned it, pulling the door open to reveal chaos in the courtyard. She barely had chance to see a thing before the laird of the MacGregors was falling back onto her, swords whipping through the air above them both.
She glanced behind her, the cook was gone like a scalded cat. The men with swords were moving to kill Jock.
“Wait!” she cried, stepping over the laird, guessing what must have happened. The king had clearly found out the treasure was gone. “I know where the money has been hidden.”
The king shoved his way past his men. “You picked a fine time to come forward, lass. Know that if you are lying, your head will join that of your laird’s on a spike outside my favorite castle.” He said the words calmly but there was no doubt he meant what he said.
“I’m telling the truth,” Daisy replied, trying her best to hide her fear. “Come with me. It’s this way.”
Once inside she wasn’t surprised to see the cook looking as innocent as possible. She was surprised to see the flagstone back in place, a heavy cauldron on top of it, the one the cook had been stirring when she’d first arrived.
She was once again stirring it, as if nothing had happened. The poker was nowhere in sight.
“It’s under there,” she said, pointing to the flagstone under the cauldron. “The missing money.”
“Are you telling the truth?” the king asked, looking at her from narrowed eyes.
“Look for yourself.”
The king nodded to two of his men. They came forward and took hold of the cauldron as the cook began to protest. “That is cooking,” she said. “You must not move it. Leave it there. You’ve no right.”
The king nodded to another of his men who grabbed hold of the cook’s arm, pulling her away.
The cauldron was shifted over to the corner out the way, the poker rolling out from under it as it went. The men turned to look at Daisy who pointed. “That flagstone there.”
“You lift it,” the king said, shoving Daisy forward. “If it is a trap, you will be its victim.”
“No trap,” she replied, wedging the poker in the gap and heaving the flagstone up once more. With it shifted out of the way she was able to look down into the hole underneath. The sack was there but it was empty. Where had the treasure gone?”
“It was right there,” Daisy said, rummaging in the hole. “I swear it.” She saw the cook smiling at her. “She took it. She must have done.”
“I dinnae ken what she’s blethering about,” the cook said. “I am naught but a simple cook.”
“All right,” Daisy said. “If you’re a cook, you must be proud of your cooking, right?”
“Of course,” the cook said, eyes shifting from her to the king and back again. “I am good at my job.”
“Then show us how good your soup is today. Why not take a sip?”
Daisy grabbed a bowl from a nearby table and dipped it in the cauldron, taking the contents over to the cook. “Just a sip should do.”
“I cannae do that. It is not for me.”
“Drink it,” the king said, his face cold. “Do as she says.”
“All right,” the cook said, taking the bowl and lifting it toward her lips. As she did so the guard’s grip on her arm slackened.
She held the bowl up and was about to drink when she suddenly threw the bowl and its contents at the guard. He was taken by surprise and fell back, wiping his eyes as the cook tried to run.
She didn’t get far. The king held out a foot and she tripped over it, falling headfirst into the cauldron. She came up gasping, spitting and choking. “You’ve killed me,” she said, clambering out and clawing at her mouth. “You’ve killed me.”
As she ran frantically around the room, the treasure spilled from underneath her apron, clattering onto the floor and rolling in every direction. When she came toward Jock, he grabbed hold of her, turning her to face him.
“What have you done?” he asked, shaking her in place. “Speak the truth or I’ll snap you in half right now.”
“She was dipping beggar’s cap mushroom into the soup when I arrived,” Daisy said as the cook continued to cough and splutter.
“Poison?” Jock said. “And now you’ve drunk your own brew? Some would say that is justice.”
The cook staggered, falling to the floor, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Confess,” Jock said, kneeling beside her. “Confess and you may yet find the door to heaven remains open for you.”
“Robin,” the cook croaked. “He paid me to dope Eddard and Morag.”
“But why?”
“To keep them docile until he was ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To take over the clan.”
“So that’s why my father is in the infirmary? Because of you?”
“He was too strong. I never knew it would take so much to kill him. The last batch didn’t do it. This one is twice the strength. I am sorry, my laird. Please, forgive me.”
Her mouth opened once more and then remained open. Jock gently closed her jaw and then her eyes, standing up and looking taller than ever.
“Beggar’s cap mushroom,” he said, pushing his way past the throng and out the door. The king’s guards went to grab him but the king waved them back, letting him go.
Daisy followed, finding Jock already heading through the door into the infirmary. By the time she got in there he was shouting for Alan who emerged from the preparation room with his parrot on his shoulder.
“God save the king,” the parrot shouted.
“Beggar’s cap mushroom,” Jock shouted. “That’s what took him.”
“I should have guessed,�
� Alan said, nodding. “It has been a long time since we had a case here. Dinnae worry, my laird. It is treatable. What do I need?” He turned and grabbed a book from the nearest shelf, flicking through the pages. “Cardomon, iris, poppy seeds, ginger.”
He looked up, the color draining from his face.
“What?” Jock asked. “What is it?”
“I am out of ginger. I used the last during the pox outbreak in spring.”
“I have some,” Daisy said too quietly.
“What?” Jock shouted, not hearing her, grabbing Alan by the shoulders. “How can you be out?”
“I have some,” Daisy tried again.
“I am sorry, my laird,” Alan said, tears forming in his eyes. “I have none.”
“Then my father dies,” Jock said, shoving Alan backward. The parrot took off in indignation, flying upward and landing on a rafter, wings still flapping.
“I have some,” Daisy shouted at the top of her voice.
As Jock turned to look at her, she pulled the bag of dried ginger from her pocket. “I was saving it until I opened my…never mind. Here, is this enough?”
Alan crossed the room and looked inside the bag. “More than enough,” he said. “Give me one minute and it will be done.”
He took the bag and ran for the preparation room, calling out the instructions to himself as he mixed and ground the ingredients together.
As good as his word, he emerged a minute later with a tankard filled to the brim with a deep orange foaming drink.
Jock lifted his father’s prone figure into a sitting position as Alan poured the first drops onto his lips, working gently, making sure none was spilled.
The effect was instantaneous. Eddard’s eyes opened, the color returning to his cheeks. He blinked as if waking up from a long sleep.
“Where am I?” he asked. “Jock? Is that you?”
“Yes,” Jock said, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. “It is me.”
“What happened?”
Daisy squeezed Jock’s shoulder, unable to stop herself from grinning as she watched father and son being reunited.
“You fell ill but dinnae worry. You will be all right now. Everything is going to be all right now.”
The Key to Her Heart: A Highlander Time Travel Romance Page 12
