by Jane Stain
“Tavish McGregor, at yer service.”
Dubh and Luthais looked to Seumas, and he shook his head sternly. They moved to seize Tavish, but Seumas held his hand up.
“Tavish says he wanderit intae oor tunnels from an unguarded way in.” He looked the man in the face. “Ye had best show me where that is.”
Seumas expected Tavish to flinch at that demand, but he rubbed his hands together and smiled at them all as if this were some festival game.
“We wull need a hundred feet o rope.”
What? Was Tavish procrastinating in order to put off his doom? But curiosity seized Seumas. And let’s face it, the man’s enthusiasm was contagious.
Seumas gave Dubh and Luthais a wry grin.
“If there be a landward use for a hundrit feet o rope, then I want tae know what it is. Call for it, Luthais.”
The guard whistled, and Cormac came running from the castle with his hand on his sword, eyeing Tavish.
“Aye?”
Seumas kept his eye on Tavish while the other guards explained what they needed.
After a while, Cormac came running back with the rope, and Seumas took him along for good measure. He thought he was a match for Tavish, and the man wasn’t armed, but you could never be too sure.
Tavish led them in what seemed a merry chase along the rim of the sea cliff north of the castle.
“Ye dinna guard along here, for ye dinna know. But I will show ye.”
He kept looking all around as if for landmarks, both off to the right up high in the mountains and down over the cliff once he’d edged close enough to peer over without falling. At last, he settled near a large stone.
“We did secure the rope tae a … horse when I went doon last evening. He’s gone now, along with Gus the rider, sae let us secure the rope tae this stone.”
Cormac looked to Seumas before doing as Tavish said.
Seumas studied Tavish for a moment. The man looked earnest — and not at all addled in the brain — so he nodded for Cormac to go ahead and secure the rope to the stone.
Once it was done, Tavish took the rope and looked to be trying to drag the stone over the cliff. When it wouldn’t go, he nodded and walked backward over the edge of the cliff, with only the rope to secure his safety.
Seumas and Cormac ran to the edge of the cliff, sure that when they looked over they would see Tavish dashed on the rocks. Instead, they saw him smiling up at them, his feet against the cliff and walking down it backward, hunched over and holding the rope.
He addressed them with a challenging grin on his face.
“This is callit repelling, where I come from. My hidden way in is nay tae far doon. Here it is. I’ll go in and wait for ye.”
And with that, Tavish disappeared inside the cliff.
Seumas swore.
Who knew where the man would go now. Nodding to Cormac to hold the rope at the stone against Seumas’s greater weight, he took hold of it and backed up over the cliff the same way Tavish had.
By the time they got to his uncle later that day, they were laughing and joking about how Seumas’s face had looked when he swung into the hidden way in. Tavish had shown him an imitation of it often enough that it would never leave his mind.
Laird Malcomb had not been as amused as they were.
“The two o ye must secure this hidden way in. Carry rocks down through the tunnels and plug it up.”
~*~
Seumas fought the urge to laugh, walking back to the barracks that evening. Talk about a grueling month of labor.
But it had paid off for both of them. Tavish had turned out to be an excellent guard, even accompanying Seumas on the seaward part of his duty. And Seumas had gotten Tavish accepted by his uncle, and assigned honorable duties.
So Seumas felt sure Tavish would approve of him.
“I tell ye true, Tavish. Sasha draws me. Enough that I could be husband tae her and be happy all my days. Howsoever, I dinna hae ought tae offer her here, being but the younger son o the laird’s sister. Dae ye think yer clan would let me come and join them?”
Tavish looked down at the ground as they walked, rather than look Seumas in the eye. He was definitely keeping a secret. A big one. Why? He had nothing to fear from Seumas. He’d been a stalwart companion.
“I dinna think ye ought to rely on that, Seumas.”
Seumas looked to Alfred for support and got a sympathetic look and a shrug.
“I would swear an oath tae yer clan chief and leave my laird behind, ye ken.”
Alfred raised his eyebrows at Seumas for that, but said nothing.
Tavish kicked a small rock, and it went skittering away down the street. And then he sighed and turned toward Seumas with a look of great regret. He moved to put a hand on Seumas’s shoulder but apparently thought better of it at the last moment, instead gesturing theatrically.
“Would that I could take ye home with me, Seumas. ‘Tis not a question o loyalty. That is na the trouble with joining my clan. We’re …” He blinked and turned his head abruptly toward Seumas in a manner that told Seumas he had thought of something unrelated to bring up, allowing him to evade the question. “Ye ken we MacGregors dinna yet hae our own lands, aye?”
Seumas turned to Alfred, whose look was as puzzled as Seumas felt.
“I dinna ken much aboot yer clan at all. Who was Gregor? When did he live?”
Tavish was on the verge of answering the question with pride. Seumas could tell. But the man clammed up and closed his eyes tightly, turning away from him.
They were at the castle gate, and Alfred showed his nonpartisanship in their discussion when he turned his back on them as he walked toward the castle entrance with a toss of his head and a backward wave of his hand.
“See ye in the lists tomorrow.”
Seumas waved his brother off with an upward nod, then spoke to Tavish without looking at him. Direct was best.
“I can sense there is a great secret ye keep close tae yer chest. Ye can tell me.”
Tavish sighed heavily and threw one of the little stones he’d picked up, knocking some fruit from a tree in the castle garden.
“I wish that I could, Seumas, but nay, I canna.”
Seumas stepped up alongside Tavish and rested his forearms on the low castle wall so he could look out into the castle garden as well.
“When ye first came here, I didna trust ye. It wouldna hae been wise for me tae. But with all we hae been through these past five years, now I dae. Dinna ye trust me? Havena I been a friend tae ye?”
Tavish nodded but didn’t say anything, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
Once they were in their racks, Tavish spoke so casually that Seumas knew this was important to him.
“Dae ye ken the story o a sword all encircled, made by a king, wielded by a child?”
Well, two could hold things back, refusing to answer questions. Seumas rolled over on his other side and grunted noncommittally.
What could Tavish possibly feel the need to keep from him? Was the man an outlaw? Nay, he didn’t seem so. And Laird Malcomb would’ve heard something by now, a description of the man, and a warning. Was the man a foreigner? Maybe. He spoke Gaelic very well, but his accent was a little off. He also didn’t seem up on the current political climate, but not everyone was a laird’s nephew. Anyway, being a foreigner wasn’t a crime. It wasn’t something that needed to be hidden. So that probably wasn’t it.
But Tavish was hiding something. He had all but admitted it, and the man’s evasiveness was deeply disturbing. Insulting, even. And worry about this secrecy kept Seumas awake a long time before he finally fell asleep.
~*~
Guard duty with Tavish was strained all the next day, starting bright and early. The two of them were stationed at the stone docks at the bottom of the underground tunnels. The docks had been the site of a battle just a few days before, and tensions were high.
Seumas didn’t press his questions. The man had said no, and that needed to be respected.
But the evening lists inside the castle courtyard were a perfect opportunity for Seumas to work out his frustration. They were using wooden practice swords, so the injuries wouldn’t be fatal.
“Yer a madman today, Seumas!”
“Look oot, Seumas does mean business.”
“Och Seumas, ye can try tae take my leg off, but I’d sooner ye did it with a metal sword.”
He showed off, winning all seven of his bouts so far. But after each one, he helped the other man up and the two clasped the forearms of their sword hands in trust and friendship.
And then he and Tavish happened to be next to each other waiting in line for their next bout behind Cormac, who addressed them both.
“I did hear ye last evening, Tavish, asking about the sword all encircled, made by a King, wielded by a child.”
“Aye? What can ye tell me aboot it?” Tavish asked him.
“I hae heard the story.”
“Aye?” Tavish’s interest was definitely piqued.
“Aye. It goes that in the time o our great, great, great granddas, Robert the Bruce was fostered here as a child, and the smithy helped him make a toy sword.”
Osgar, the man in front of Cormac in line, nodded.
“I did hear the same tale, howsoever I was told Robert the Bruce was visiting here, nay fostered.”
Rob, the man in front of him, shook his head and waved his hand.
“Nay. I’m namit after Robert the Bruce, ye ken? He was fostered here, but he didna make the sword. The smithy made it for him, as a gift.”
Behind them, Pòl spoke over the last half of this.
“The way I did hear it, the faeries brought the sword tae the young Bruce as a gift, in exchange for his promise o loyalty in keeping their waurld safe later on in his life.”
Warrick had just finished his bout and only heard this last version when he came over and joined the line at the end, which had bent double so as to be close to the conversation. He rushed the end of the line even closer, face red with conviction.
“Yer wrong! How can the sword be made by a king if the faeries hae brought it?”
Pòl got right up into Warrick’s face.
“The king o the faeries made it, ye bletherer!”
Seumas put his arms around Warrick and Pòl’s shoulders and squeezed them both until they looked away from each other and at him.
“All o yer stories differ a bit from the way I heard it told. Howsoever, it happened long ago, ye ken. And a good story changes each time someone does tell it.”
The two backed down, but speculation on the story only ended when they had all separated into their bouts.
And then when Tavish’s bout was over, instead of getting in the line again, he passed between the two carts for the practice swords, ducked low to be hidden behind them, and snuck out of the courtyard.
Seumas immediately flubbed his bout and did the same, running once he was in the street to catch up with Tavish in the failing sunlight.
No surprise really. The man was headed toward Eileen’s house.
Seumas kept back far enough so as not to be noticed, stooping down below a vendor cart the one time Tavish did stop and look behind him. He remained there, where he had a good vantage of Eileen’s front door if he looked through the linen the vendor had draped over everything. He noted in passing that it wasn’t nearly so fine as the linen Eileen made.
Sasha was outside, playing a game of stones with Eileen’s children. Tavish ran right up to her and grabbed her hand, and she swooned and she was wont to do. Tavish caught her, muttering something about having to take her back.
What could it mean? Wasn’t Tavish with Kelsey? Was he greedy enough to want them both? If that was his secret, then he was going to be disappointed. Sasha wasn’t interested in Tavish. It could be told by the way she didn’t respond when the man held her.
She recovered from her swoon and said something too soft for Seumas to hear. The two of them looked all around suspiciously, called the children, and went inside the house.
Seumas walked up to the door and hung back a bit, looking through the window. He’d give Sasha another chance to respond to Tavish, but if she didn’t this time, then he was going to continue his pursuit of her.
But their conversation was the last thing he expected.
“I had anoother vision, just now. Ye and Kelsey were in a different castle, and Kelsey was holding a sword.”
Seumas was so engaged with listening to her that he didn’t hear Kelsey and Eileen coming up behind him with their shopping baskets until Kelsey spoke to him.
“Dae ye want tae open the door for us, or are ye gaun'ae stay oot here looking in through the window?”
Seachd (7)
Sasha ran across the dirt street to grab the stone that had skipped over there and then threw it to hit the stone she was aiming at. She hit it! She raised her hands up in the air and went dancing all around the group of children, mostly oblivious to the smirks of neighbors looking out their glassless windows to see what the fuss was about.
“Score!”
Sìle sat there sucking her thumb as usual, but Aodh and Niall laughed from their places near the rocks they were aiming at.
Deirdre put her hands on her hips and scolded them with her index finger and a curl of her lip.
“Ye should na make fun o her. Just because she’s not from aroond here and uses funny words does na mean she has nay feelings.”
Sasha hugged the little girl to her hip.
“I dinna mind their laughter. ‘Tis all in fun.”
Eileen’s children were delightful, especially Little Deirdre. Her mother probably thought her precocious and slightly annoying sometimes, but Sasha was grateful for all the help the little girl provided. And she would add ‘perceptive’ to the long list of adjectives her mother doubtless used to describe the wee lass. She was pretty sure Deirdre knew just how clueless and inept Sasha felt here — though certainly not why — and the little six-year-old was such a sweetie to reach out and assist.
Deirdre had been a godsend this morning at the weaver shop, helping Sasha accept Eileen’s help cleaning her suit. It was just that the suit had cost her almost a thousand dollars, and she had been cautioned to only dry clean it, lest it shrink.
~*~
Sasha carried her suit close to her chest all the way to Eileen and Kelsey’s work. They all walked together in the pre-dawn light, the children too, with Eileen carrying Sìle. The door was open when they got there, and two men were already busy on looms.
“Did ye bring us anoother apprentice?”
Kelsey went over to the far right corner of the room and picked up some stuff and started working with it.
“This is my… clanswoman Sasha. These are the other master weavers in toon, Fergus and Uilleam.”
The men waved at Sasha, and she waved back, giving them her friendly smile.
Eileen put the toddler down behind a row of tall buckets on the floor and reached out toward Sasha. No, toward the suit.
Sasha heard Deirdre’s voice at her elbow.
“’Tis all right. Maw won’t ruin yer clothes. She’s a weaver. She knows what she does.”
Sasha looked down at the cute little girl.
“Why dae ye say that?”
Deirdre pointed.
“Because ye are hugging yer clothes.”
She was. Walking over to Eileen, she forced herself to relax and let out a little laugh before she handed over the suit with a great deal of trepidation. And then she looked down into the buckets.
“Oh. But that’s…”
Eileen turned Sasha’s suit over in her hands, admiring the workmanship … and probably the machine sewing. Too polite to say anything, she slowly pushed the muddy designer garments into one of the buckets filled with sudsy water, then turned and went over to where Kelsey was, smiling and beckoning for Sasha to join them.
Sasha sank down into a crouch, looking at her submerged suit and all the other submerged clothing in the b
uckets.
Deirdre hugged her and whispered in her ear.
“Ye dinna hae master weavers where ye live, I ken. Aye, those are kilts. And we make them from wool, like yer clothes. They wash oot fine if ye just sink them slowly and let them be. Go on over and talk with yer friends now. I wull watch the baby.”
~*~
It was Sasha’s turn again, in the street with the children. She took careful aim, threw, and missed her target this time.
“Darn!”
The boys were scrunching their noses at her, visibly trying to place that word, when Tavish ran up and grabbed her hand, trying to tug her into the house.
“We hae a lead on the relic we need tae find. Let’s take ye back first, and then Kelsey and I’ll go. Ye hae already missed tae much time at home, on account o not coming with us when we telt ye tae.”
But Sasha wasn’t paying attention to what he said. Because she was having another vision.
Tavish and Kelsey wandered a large fortified stone castle. Not the one here. This one had an obvious way to sail a boat right inside it on the water and dock there — Turnberry Castle in Ayrshire, about fifty miles north of here. Now Tavish was looking at Kelsey in wonder, and Kelsey was holding a sword.
Sasha tried to look closer and see if it was the same sword that Kelsey had made appear in front of Brian the Druid, but the vision abruptly ended.
When she came back to herself, Sasha realized she’d swooned again and Tavish had caught her, because he was still holding her. She recovered herself and gave him an awkward smile of thanks.
Still holding her by the hand, he tugged her toward the door of the house. Just like Kelsey, he wasn’t even aware of the children.
She’d been left in charge of them, and although it was probably safe to leave them alone outside here, she just couldn’t bring herself to do that.
“Come on in, bairns.”
Much to her surprise, there was no groaning or saying ‘Do we have to?’ They all picked up their favorite stones and ran right inside. She gave them her best smile in gratitude.
