by Amanda Scott
Turning her hand palm upward, she squeezed his. “I am glad you think me pretty, sir. If anyone has offered for me, though, I am unaware of it.”
“Perhaps de Raite hopes our cousin Dae will offer for you.”
Aly wrinkled her nose and pressed her lips tightly together.
“Do you dislike Dae?”
Looking past him toward Colley and evidently satisfied that their discussion was as private as it could be at such a time, she met Will’s gaze and said in a voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Cousin Dae be nobbut Hew’s lackey, Will. Nor do I believe that Father wants me tae live as far away as a town in Perthshire.”
“True,” Will admitted. “But would you dislike living in a town?”
“How can I know how I would feel?” she asked reasonably. “The only town I know is Nairn. I wouldna mind living there if I like the man I do marry. But I’d be daft tae decide where I want tae live afore anyone offers for me. Where would you like tae live after you marry, Will?”
He grinned. “Sakes, Aly, I ken little more than you do about places beyond Inverness, Nairnshire, and Badenoch. I’ve heard tales of other towns, but men say that disasters such as the plague run rampant in Lowland cities, so I’d liefer stay in the Highlands. I stay here because I owe duty to de Raite and to you, too, and I’m content enough whilst I can spend my days in the woods and nae one troubles me.”
“I wish I were a man,” Aly said wistfully. “They always have choices.”
The incessant clamor faded noticeably then, and Will saw men in the lower hall getting to their feet and beginning to dismantle the trestles. Others fetched dice or playing cards, laid out pallets for sleeping, or simply left the hall.
Guards on the wall walk changed shift at midnight, so their replacements, and the men who would replace those at dawn, would sleep in the great hall.
Will and his brothers preferred sleeping in the attic behind the minstrel gallery, because it had access to the roof, and on hot summer nights it was cooler there. In winter, heat rising from the great hall fireplace kept it warm.
As Will stood, he realized that Alyssa and Meggie were waiting for de Raite to dismiss them.
When he did, Will began to follow them as they made their way behind his father and brothers toward the tower stairway.
“Hold there, lad,” de Raite commanded as Will neared him. “Ye’ll come wi’ the rest of us intae the inner chamber. I’ve a matter I want tae discuss wi’ the lot o’ ye. Ye must come, too, Dae,” he added. “Ye ha’ well nigh become another son and can make yourself useful tae me.”
“Willingly, sir,” Dae Comyn said, shoving a hand through his tousled dark auburn hair before planting a tattered gray cap atop his head.
Darker-haired Hew, beside him, clapped Dae on a shoulder.
With a sigh, Will watched Aly disappear up the tower stairs toward the solar and her bedchamber above it. Then, moving to stand before the great sword hanging between the lancet windows and glancing at the other men, he returned his thoughts to his father and what devilry the man might be up to now.
He had not long to wonder, for as soon as his sons and nephew were in the chamber, de Raite shut the heavy door separating it from the tower stairs and hall.
Moving toward the large south window, he stood before it with his feet apart and looked searchingly from one young man to the next. Then, apparently satisfied with what he saw, he said, “As ye all ken fine, Donald, Thane o’ Cawdor, despite being royal Constable o’ Nairn Castle, does liefer live at Cawdor than keep close watch on his castle as he should. The town o’ Nairn itself and all o’ Strathnairn and Badenoch were long afore him controlled by Clan Comyn, as they should be, and …”
Will’s inner voice urged him to remind de Raite that such Comyn control had ended soon after the reign of King Robert the Bruce began, more than a century before. The Bruce, offended by fierce Comyn opposition to his claim to the Scottish throne, had done his best to destroy their power by revoking their castle warrants and officially expelling them from Badenoch and other parts of the Highlands.
Common sense reminded Will of the futility of such intrusion, given de Raite’s success in seizing Raitt Castle and its estates—which had rightfully belonged to the Mackintoshes—and gaining the King’s permission to keep them.
As he was assuring himself that silence was his safest option, de Raite went on to say, “Since the Thane clearly prefers Cawdor tae living in Nairn Castle, I’m thinking we should take steps tae point out the error o’ his irresponsibility.”
Unable to keep silent any longer, Will said mildly, “Do you not think such steps might incur the King’s fury, sir? After all, his grace’s decision to let us keep Raitt relied on your promise to maintain peace hereabouts, with everyone.”
“Faith, be ye such a feardie yourself that ye think I fear Jamie Stewart?” de Raite demanded. Before Will could reply, he added, “I ha’ nae use for your opinion. The Bruce took our lands, but ’tis Stewarts and royal arse-lickers like the Malcolmtosh and the Thane as seek tae control them. We owe Jamie nowt, nor the others neither! That fool Cawdor keeps but a token guard at Nairn Castle, so …”
As she opened the door to Castle Finlagh’s inner chamber, Katy heard her mother say, “Here they are now,” so one or both of the wolf dogs had sensed her approach and warned Catriona. Her words also told Katy that the human occupants of the room had expected Gilli to be with her and were discussing them.
A glance at Clydia, in the window embrasure looking up from her needlework with a smile, reassured Katy that her twin had said naught to discomfit her. As she shut the door, she noted with relief that no one other than her parents, her twin, the two dogs, and one small black-and-white cat was present.
Fin, standing near the embrasure, said, “Well, Katy-lass, I trust you have news of import now to tell us, but what have you done with Gilli Roy?”
“Mercy, sir,” Catriona protested. “Let your daughter enter the room and make herself comfortable before you quiz her.”
Expelling the too-hasty breath she had inadvertently inhaled, Katy relaxed, certain now that she had two allies in the room. “Thank you, Mam,” she said. With a wry twist of her lips, she added, “I ken fine, though, that you must all be eager to learn what Gilli had to say to me.”
“But what have you done with him?” Fin demanded again. “I expected … that is, we expected him to accompany you so that you might tell us together.”
“Did you, sir?” Katy said evenly. “You did not tell us that that was your expectation, so Gilli stayed upstairs. In fact, I think he meant either to seek his bed or to walk outside for a time, to think.”
“What the devil is there for him to think about?”
Katy met his stern gaze without a blink. “Marry, sir, are you not the same father who is ever warning me against making any decision hastily? You talk now as if you had no notion of what Gilli would say to me.” Noting his gathering frown, she added as calmly and yet as firmly as she could, “But you do know, sir … That is to say, you did know exactly what you expected him to say.”
“Now, see here,” Fin began, only to catch his wife’s raised eyebrow and hesitate. Turning his gaze to Clydia, who looked down at her needlework and showed no intention of aiding him, he returned his gaze ruefully to Katy. “You are right to take me up so, lass,” he said. “I expected you to want to express your delight in the honor that Gilli Roy does you but to share that special moment with him as well as us. Sakes, I expected you both to want that.”
“Did you, sir?” Katy wanted to shout the words this time, nae to shriek them at him and more besides, but she knew better than to behave so disrespectfully.
Catriona said, “Are you going to tell us what Gilli Roy did say and how you responded, love?”
“He told me the truth, Mam,” Katy said. “I agreed only with his notion that we should take more time to think and
mayhap to know each other better before we decide whether to take such an important step in our lives.”
“By Heaven,” Fin said curtly, “would you insult Malcolm so?”
“How can taking time to think be an insult to anyone, Father? We are asking only to do what you have so frequently recommended that I do before making much less important decisions. In fairness, you must admit that you have scolded me time and again for making decisions too hastily. Have you not, sir?”
Catriona was silent, her lips pressed so tightly together that the skin outlining them had paled, but Katy suspected that the tightness was due more to her mother’s sense of humor than to her displeasure.
Fin glanced at Catriona, grimaced, and looked his daughter in the eye. “There are times, my lass, when parents and other adult kinsmen expect their offspring simply to heed their sage advice.”
“Indeed there are such times, sir, because you have explained such to me before, as well,” Katy said. “You told Clydia and me then that we would have a strong say in our marriages and that it is against Scottish law for anyone to try to force a woman into marriage against her will. Is that not so for men, too?”
“I did, and it is,” he admitted. “Nevertheless …” He paused.
“I ken fine why you are irked, Da, because you have made it plain that you do not want to offend the Mackintosh.”
Fin raised his eyes to the ceiling for a long moment.
Realizing that he was controlling his temper with effort, Katy kept silent.
At last, he looked at her again, sighed deeply, and said, “Just tell me that you did not refuse Gilli Roy outright.”
“Nae, sir,” she said. Catching her twin’s quick glance upward, Katy nibbled her lower lip briefly before adding, “I did want to. But I feared it would be rude.”
“You were right,” he said. “You are also right about my desire to avoid offending Malcolm, and about our Scottish laws. They do pertain to every Scot. If you and Gilli Roy decide that you cannot abide each other, despite your years of friendship, then I’ll do what I can to soothe Malcolm. But you must promise me that you will not dig in your heels, Katy-lass. Gilli Roy has offered you the great honor of becoming good-daughter to the Mackintosh, Chief of Clan Mackintosh and Captain of Clan Chattan. It would be most unwise to reject that honor out of hand.”
“You should know then that it was Gilli who suggested that we should take time to think before making any announcement. Although we have known each other as cousins and friends, neither of us has ever considered marrying the other.”
“But now you will both carefully consider that opportunity,” Fin replied.
Meeting her twin’s gaze again to see Clydia give a slight shake of her head, Katy understood that she advised silence and reluctantly agreed.
Catriona said lightly, “I must say that I had not expected you to marry so soon, my dearling. I ken fine that you are past the age of consent, but I fear that I still think of you and Clydia as my bairns. It will be much harder for me to part with you than it was to part with our sons.”
Clydia chuckled. “Certes, but we can understand that, Mam.”
Katy smiled, and when Fin opened his arms, she went to him and hugged him as tightly as he hugged her. “I do not want to disappoint you, Da,” she murmured against his chest.
“You won’t, Katy-lass. We did spring this matter on you, so I suppose we should be grateful that you did not hurl a stool at poor Gilli Roy’s head when he put the question to you. How long do you think you will need for thinking?”
“Marry, sir,” she said, gazing up at him. “I don’t know. Must we set a time?”
“Nae,” Catriona said, moving to stand beside them and laying a gentle hand on Katy’s shoulder. “Take the time you need, dearling. Gilli Roy is welcome to stay here with us for as long as he likes.”
“He will be glad of that, I know,” Katy said with certainty.
When she and Clydia went upstairs to their chamber, they found Gilli sitting on the landing outside it.
He got hastily to his feet. “What did they say?” he demanded. When Clydia chuckled, he seemed to collect himself and said, “I ken fine that Kate told you all about it.”
“Faith, Gil, I was there,” Clydia said. “She told all of us about it.”
His eyes widened, and he turned back to Katy. “Ye told them everything?”
“Nae, I did not,” Katy said. “I told them you were the one who suggested that we needed more time but that I agreed, and—”
“How much time did they give us?” Gilli demanded.
Katy grinned. “Mam said to take all the time we need and that you are welcome to stay here until we decide.”
“That be a good thing, then,” he said. “I be a dreadful slow decider.”
The next morning, Gilli Roy left the castle before Katy and Clydia came downstairs to break their fast. Returning in time for the midday meal, he brought a visitor, a mendicant Dominican friar—wearing the customary cream-colored, ankle-length tunic, black cape, and capuce or hood of his order.
Since mendicant friars and monks brought news from all over Scotland and the world beyond, they found a warm welcome wherever they stopped.
“This is Brother Julian from Blackfriars at St. John’s Town,” Gilli said. “We met just as we approached the knoll. He speaks both Scots and the Gaelic.”
Handing Fin letters from the Borders and Perth, Brother Julian said, “I have learned that, thanks to the many ships passing through the harbors of Nairn and Inverness from distant ports, many people hereabouts also speak both languages.” Then, moving to the place offered him beside Fin at the high table, he obliged his request to say the grace before meat.
As everyone took seats, Katy heard Fin ask how far the man had traveled.
Pushing his capuce back from his tonsured head, Brother Julian said with a grin, “Hither, thither, and yon, but I ken fine that, letters tae read or none, ye’ll be wanting tae hear as much news from the Borders and your kinsmen there as I can give ye. I can tell ye straightaway that Sir Àdham, Lady Fiona, and her family were all well at Ormiston Mains despite a new outbreak o’ the fearful plague in some Border parts.”
“I do not like to hear that,” Fin said, signaling to the carver and his gillies to begin serving. “New outbreaks must pose risk to them.”
“The trouble lies well westward yet and south into England,” Brother Julian assured him. “Your lot will likely stay at Ormiston for the nonce, though, especially as a self-styled wise woman—one Janet Fortune—has predicted that the end of the world is nigh. ’Tis proven, she said, by the pestilence doing its all to wipe out whole populations in Europe, England, and much of our own Lowlands.”
“Mercy!” Catriona exclaimed.
“Prithee, brother,” said Fin, “do not speak widely hereabouts of such a pestilence. ’Twould stir panic in many quarters.”
“Aye, sir, I ken that fine,” Brother Julian said. “Forbye, ye should ken that a daft Polish preacher blames the Kirk for the recent outbreaks and agrees wi’ Janet Fortune that plague does mean the end is coming. In fact, the two say it will occur on the seventeenth day of June, just over a fortnight from now. Such warnings are common whenever the plague strikes, though. And, as we all ken fine, God will determine the world’s end, not yon Janet Fortune or her outlandish preacher.”
Katy exchanged a startled look with Clydia but relaxed when Catriona said with a sigh, “You are right about the plenitude of such prophecies, Brother Julian. We hear dire predictions after any disaster or violent storm, as well as outbreaks of the plague as far away as southern England or even France.”
“One does well to pay small heed to any prediction,” Fin said. “The world has survived for centuries now and will doubtless do so for many more.”
“You may have heard such predictions, Mam, but we have not,” Katy said, unable to s
top the words from flying off her tongue. “What if the woman is right?”
Brother Julian said mildly, “If it is the will of God, it will happen, and not all of the King’s powers or prayers from the rest of us could stop it. But I do not believe that God created this earth and the multitude of splendid creatures on it merely to destroy them all on a whim.”
Gilli Roy, who had been silent for some time, said, “That woman, Janet Fortune, sounds daft. If she continues tae rattle her tongue, ’tis likely that someone will accuse her o’ witchery.”
“She could even be burned at the stake for heresy,” Brother Julian said.
Katy gasped.
Catriona said calmly, “I think the sensible thing is to say little about this prophecy. Word of it would spread fast and doubtless terrify many people.”
“I regret to tell you, my lady, that news of plague and prophecy has spread to the Highlands already,” Brother Julian said. “Many Highlanders have kinsmen in the Lowlands, after all, and many of those kinsmen evidently decided to move north upon learning that the plague had struck just a few miles south of them.”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Fin said. “We must encourage any of our people who express concern about what Gilli rightly calls a daft prediction to recall how many such they have heard that failed to come true. I will wager anything you like that this one is just another such wheen of blethers.”
No one debated his conclusion.
Gilli disappeared again that afternoon without waiting to hear what was in Sir Àdham’s letter, but Katy noted that he did so without drawing her father’s ire.
She had no desire to draw Fin’s attention to herself, so after learning that her cousin still considered his young son perfect and that his wife, Fiona, was enjoying their visit to her childhood home, Katy spent the rest of the afternoon sorting herbs from Clydia’s kitchen garden for drying in rafters above the bake ovens.
When she found herself wondering how soon Fin would start pressing for an answer from her and Gilli Roy, her thoughts shifted, seemingly of their own accord, to the intriguing man with the engaging smile she had met on the peak. Will was much better looking than Gilli and provided more interesting conversation. She wondered what he would think of the wise woman’s dreadful prophecy.
