“Ye first, Brigham,” said Sorley, as if he knew there was nothing on the page and wanted Bridget’s father’s secret to be uncovered.
“Go ahead,” said the king when Brigham hesitated.
“Pardon me, Yer Majesty, but the rowin’ event is next and everyone is already headin’ down to the water,” Bridget intervened. “Perhaps ye’d like to wait and hear it all at the same time later on today?”
“Aye, ye wouldna want to miss the start of rowin’ event,” said Brigham.
“Ye’re right,” agreed the king, standing up and being escorted by his guards. “I will hear both of yer renditions of today’s activities at the meal later.”
Bridget let out a deep sigh of relief as they walked away. “That was a close one, Faither.”
“Aye,” agreed Brigham. “I wonder what the next event will be.”
“Da, ye ken very well it’s the rowin’ competition,” she told him, realizing his madness was setting in again. She wished they had time to go back to their chamber where she could give him more herbs and he’d have time to take a nap. Unfortunately, there was no time for that now.
“Rowin’?” asked her father, stopping dead in his tracks. His face became ashen.
“Aye,” said Bridget. “Da, what is the matter?”
“Bridget, ye will no’ go near the water. Do ye understand me?”
“I’m no’ goin’ in the water, dinna worry,” she told him. “We’re only spectators. Caleb will be doin’ the rowin’.”
The competition started off fine, and Henry MacDonald who had arms the size of tree trunks had no trouble pulling ahead of the others. But then it seemed his boat sprang a leak and, slowly, it started to sink.
Bridget’s father had slipped back into his past memories again. And when he saw Henry fall into the water, he cried out. “Nay! I’ll save ye. I will no’ let ye drown. Hold on, Greer, I am comin’.” He took off at a run for the water.
“Faither, nay!” shouted Bridget, pushing her way through the crowd, following him, stopping next to Logan.
“Bridget, what is yer faither doin’?” asked Logan, holding Slink under one arm.
“Logan, ye’ve got to stop him,” she begged him. “He thinks he is savin’ my mathair from drownin’ and he’s probably goin’ to jump in the water next.”
“What the hell do ye want me to do?”
“Stop him. Please. I need yer help. Bring him back before he makes a spectacle of himself in front of the king.”
“God’s eyes,” grumbled Logan, shoving Slink into her arms and sprinting after Brigham. Bridget watched, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Thankfully, Logan was able to catch him and keep him from entering the water. She let out a sigh of relief.
“Yer faither seems like he’s gone mad,” came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Valan peering over her shoulder. She jumped, and stepped away from him. Slink hissed at the man.
“Get away from me,” she spat through gritted teeth. She was afraid Valan might cause her trouble, but then Sorley walked up, thankfully interrupting. Valan stepped back, and walked away.
“Bridget, what is yer faither doin’ down by the lake?” asked Sorley. “I thought I heard him yell somethin’ about savin’ someone.”
“I’m sure he was just worried because Henry’s boat sank. My faither is always concerned for everyone’s well-bein’.”
“I see,” said the man, opening his book and lifting up his quill.
“Ye’re no’ goin’ to write that in yer book, are ye?”
“Why no’?” asked the man. “The king wants us to record everythin’. If yer faither so selflessly was ready to jump into the water to save a man’s life, then dinna ye think the king would want to read about it?”
“Please, Sorley. There is no’ need to put that in yer book.” Her eyes darted back to the king. He was watching the rowing and, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice her father’s actions.
“Bridget, is there a reason I shouldna write about it?” The man waited for her to respond, his quill held still above the page.
“Ye seem like ye’re very guid at what ye do,” she said instead of answering his question. “So, it is yer wish to someday be the king’s chronicler? Because I have a feelin’ ye are doin’ everythin’ in yer power to catch the king’s eye.”
“Bein’ the king’s chronicler is a job that is very coveted. I’d feel honored to ever have the opportunity to hold that position, just like anyone would.”
“Then just record the events of the Leader of the Lairds Competition, and no’ petty things such as an auld man runnin’ to the water, wantin’ to save someone’s life.”
“But that’s a heroic deed,” said the man. “Dinna ye want yer faither to be mentioned for it?”
“My faither has served the king well for many years,” she told him. “I ken ye want his job and, someday soon, ye might just have it. But dinna use trickery or twistin’ words to make someone look better or worse than they are. That is no’ respectable of a chronicler and naught what the king wants.”
“Wise words spoken from someone who should take her own advice,” said the man.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, my dear, that mayhap it is time for an auld man to step down to make room for a much younger one at the top. Think about that. Because one way or another, I will get what I want, and ye canna stop me.” He put his quill down and closed his book, and turned and walked away.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the sky opened up and rain poured down, making everyone run in all directions. Thunder boomed and the sky became very dark as the winds picked up tremendously.
“Everyone, take cover,” the herald shouted as things began to blow around.
Then Storm called out, “The king has declared the rest of the competition will happen tomorrow mornin’. Villagers, please go to yer homes where ye’ll be safe from the weather. Those of ye stayin’ in tents, ye are welcome to spend the night inside the great hall.”
Shouts went up as women gathered their children, and vendors closed up their wagons and everyone ran to find a dry area.
Caleb finished tying up his boat, not at all happy that Clement had won the rowing competition. He saw Henry go down when his boat took on too much water and realized the saboteur was at it again. Caleb might have had a good chance at winning, but slowed down when he saw Bridget’s father running toward the water. Thank goodness Logan stopped the man, but Caleb’s hesitancy cost him first place.
“Caleb,” called out Logan, running up to join him.
“Where’s Slink?” was the first thing Caleb asked, worried that his pet would be trampled in the stampede of people running for cover.
“I left Slink in Bridget’s chamber when I helped her get her faither back to their room.”
Rain pelted down, soaking them to the skin. “Let’s go,” said Caleb, taking off at a run for the keep with Logan right behind him.
Once inside, Logan headed toward the great hall. “Let’s get an ale and dry off by the fire.”
“Ye go ahead. I’m goin’ to find Bridget.”
“Sorry about the race, but ye still came in second in the rowin’. And ye’re still the winner of two events, and no one else has done that but Clement.”
“Aye, and there is one more event left before the final competition, and its sword combat.”
“So? Ye’re guid with a sword, Caleb. Ye have nothin’ to worry about.”
“With the saboteur still out there, I willna stop worryin’ until he’s caught. And it doesna matter how many rounds I win, it is the total of points given overall that will determine the winner.”
“Well, thanks to the rain, ye have an extra night to figure out who it is. Now, I’m goin’ to get an ale. I hope Jack is hidin’ in the woods until the storm is over. If he wanders back to the castle, he’s likely to scare some of the lassies.”
“Aye. I dinna like so many people around. I canna even let Slink go off on his own,
for fear he’ll be trampled.”
Caleb headed to Bridget’s chamber, knocking softly on the door. When no one answered, he opened the door and poked his head inside.
“Bridget? Are ye in here, lass?”
Bridget sat at the table with a candle burning. She was bent over, writing in the book. Her father lay on the bed snoring. Caleb took a step inside and closed the door. Slink dropped down from somewhere, landing on his shoulder, taking him by surprise.
“Och!” he cried and started laughing. “Oh, it’s only ye, Slink.”
“Caleb?” Bridget turned around. She looked tired and worn and as if something were really bothering her. “Caleb, I’m glad ye’re here.” She put down the quill and ran over to him. Caleb put Slink on the floor and took her into his arms, giving her a hug.
“Blethers! Ye’re wet,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Well, it is rainin’, in case ye havena noticed.”
“Stand near the fire in the hearth so ye can dry off.” She hurried over to the hearth and used a metal rod to poke at the fire. Her father slept soundly and didn’t even stir. “I’m sorry ye didna win the rowin’ event,” she told him.
“Ye saw what happened to Henry,” he said, warming his hands in front of the flames.
“Yes. And I’m sure ye saw what happened with my faither, too.”
“I saw him run down to the lake, and thought he was shoutin’ somethin’. What was that all about?”
She looked back toward the bed with worry on her brow. Slowly, she put the poker back. “I’m afraid his madness is gettin’ worse, Caleb. I canna hide it any longer.”
“Is he goin’ to hear us?” asked Caleb in a whisper.
“Nay,” she said with a shake of her head. “I gave him his medicine and he will sleep until mornin’. I hate to do that to him, Caleb, but it’s for his own guid. But after today, I’m afraid too many people saw what happened and that the king is goin’ to find out now, too.”
“Bridget, mayhap it’s time ye told King Robert about yer faither’s condition. Perhaps he’ll understand.”
“Will he?” she asked, sounding frustrated. “Do ye really think he’ll just let my faither go, and no’ do a thing about the fact he’s been deceived by an auld madman and a woman for the last few years?”
“I dinna ken,” said Caleb, pulling her back into his arms. “I’m sure it’ll be all right.” He kissed her atop her head.
“I wish I could believe that,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’ve had a horrible day and I canna wait for this competition to be over. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”
“Leave ye alone?” Caleb suddenly wondered if she was talking about him. “Bridget, please dinna tell me ye are regrettin’ our time we spent together.”
“Oh, nay! I didna mean ye, Caleb. I’m sorry.”
“Then who did ye mean? Is someone else givin’ ye trouble?”
“No’ really,” she said, wrapping her arms around her and looking to the ground.
“Bridget, I can tell ye’re lyin’. Now come, sit by the fire with me and tell me what’s troublin’ ye, please.” He pulled up a bench and they sat on it together.
“I saw Valan again,” she told him.
“Damn him!” spat Caleb, jumping to his feet. “Did ye touch ye, lass? Because if so, I’ll kill him, I swear I will.”
“Nay. Now sit down and be quiet and I’ll tell ye more.” She reached up and pulled him back down to the bench. “He didna say much to me because Sorley interrupted.”
“Sorley? That chronicler? I dinna like him either,” said Caleb. “He seems sneaky, or as if he’s hidin’ somethin’.”
“He wants to be the king’s chronicler and has admitted it, Caleb. I also think he kens my faither’s secret. He was goin’ to write about him today in his book but I believe I stopped him.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“It’s what I said to him that made me realize that I dinna want to write the chronicles anymore. And I dinna want to continue this game.”
“Please explain, lass.”
“Caleb, I ripped out the pages about ye,” she told him, looking up to him with glassy eyes.
“Guid,” he said with a smile and a nod. “I didna want anyone to read those bad things about me.”
“I got rid of all the guid things I said about ye, too.”
“Ye did what?” His eyes opened wide. “Bridget, why?”
“Because, I realized that what I wrote might no’ exactly be the truth. It was the way I saw ye, Caleb, and what I thought about ye. I wrote in the book how ye look in my eyes.”
“Well, isna that what a chronicler does? Did ye really have to get rid of it? The king liked what ye wrote.”
“Now, Caleb,” she scolded him. “Ye ken as well as I that I might have stretched the truth a little when I wrote those things about ye. Ye said yerself that it was too guid. Did ye really want me to leave it in there?”
“Nay, I suppose no’,” he said with a sigh. He took her hands in his. “Ye did the right thing, Bridget. I was just happy to finally be mentioned in the chronicles, that’s all.”
“But ye are mentioned in the chronicles and, this time, everythin’ I wrote was true. Come see.” She took his hand and led him over to the book where he read about the finalists in the competition, and also about how he won the broad jump and the archery event. She wrote the facts, and that’s all. Caleb liked it. He had finally gotten a mention in the book and it wasn’t a lie and neither did he have to write it himself.
“I’m glad ye did the right thing, Bridget. And I’m sorry I ever wrote in the book to begin with, because it wasna the right thing to do.”
“Caleb, I need ye to help me convince the king to replace my faither with Sorley as his new chronicler.”
“What? Nay,” said Caleb, in surprise. “Why would I do that? Why would ye even want me to?”
“Because I believe in my heart that Sorley would be a guid chronicler. Besides, my faither can no longer do it. And I dinna want to play this game anymore.”
“Well, it might be a guid way to solve all yer problems, I suppose. However, we dinna even ken a thing about Sorley. What if he kens the truth and will tell the king? Or what if the man is the saboteur?”
“Sorley? The saboteur?” asked Bridget. “Why would he care who wins the competition?”
“Mayhap he’s doin’ it just to have somethin’ guid to write, to impress the king.”
“I suppose that could be true.”
“Bridget, will yer faither sleep the rest of the night?” asked Caleb.
“Aye,” she answered.
“Then leave him, and help me spy to find the saboteur of this contest. Perhaps if we figure it out, we’ll be in the king’s graces.”
“And if we are? Do ye really think the king will be lenient with me and Da if he finds out what we’ve done?”
“I hope so,” said Caleb, pulling her to him and kissing her, wanting nothing more than to protect her from harm. “I promise ye, Bridget, I will find a way to make things right. And when I do, ye will never have to fear for yer life or for yer faither’s life again.”
Chapter 21
Caleb hurriedly went through the bags of his competitors while Bridget kept watch at the door. Slink snooped around the room as well.
“Did ye find anythin’ yet?” whispered Bridget, peeking out the open crack of the door in Caleb’s chamber.
“Nay, there is nothin’ here that suggests any of them are the saboteur.” Caleb didn’t like having to secretly inspect the others’ possessions, but he had no choice. If he was going to find out who was sabotaging the events, he had to get sneaky. The king wanted answers – answers that Caleb had yet to be able to give him.
“Someone is comin’,” whispered Bridget, closing the door. “We need to hide.”
“Over here, lass.” Caleb ran over to a trunk near the wall and opened it for Bridget. “Stay inside until they’re gone.” He helped her step into
it, then started to lower the lid.
“Where are ye goin’ to be?” she whispered to Caleb.
“Behind the tapestry,” he said, slipping behind the wall hanging, hoping the dark room would conceal his presence. He’d just managed to hide when the door opened and two people walked in. Holding the hilt of his sword should he need it, he listened, but didn’t dare to poke his head out. Not yet.
“Go quickly,” a low voice said to another. “Ye ken what ye have to do.”
“I’ll do things my way,” said another man.
“Ye’ve already made a mess of things. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“I’ll no’ only hurt them, but kill them if I please. Ye willna tell me how to do my job.”
“If ye dinna do what I ask, I’ll no’ give ye want ye want.”
“On the contrary, if ye interfere again, I’ll make certain ye’re the next one hurt.”
“It’s already headin’ in that direction, if ye havena noticed. I will no’ be imprisoned because ye canna stick to the plan. Ye were only supposed to slow them down. Now, I have a target on my back.”
“Leave that to me. I have a plan that is sure to work.”
Caleb was about to step out and confront the men when one of them screamed.
“God’s eyes, what’s that?”
He heard the hiss of Slink, and then commotion in the room, and something falling over and hitting the ground.
“It’s just that stupid weasel.”
Caleb peeked out from behind the tapestry, seeing Slink run out of the room and the backs of two men following him. He shot out from behind the wall hanging, running over to open the trunk for Bridget.
“Did ye see anythin’?” he asked her.
“Nay. I peeked out of the trunk, but their backs were toward me. Did ye?”
“I was about to greet them with the end of my blade at their throats when Slink ran out and scared them. I didna want Slink to get hurt, so I held back.”
“What’s that?” asked Bridget, pointing to the floor. Sticking out of one of the bags was a hand drill used for making holes in wood.
Highland Spy: Highland Chronicles Series - Book 4 Page 17
