Highland Honor

by Dana D'Angelo

  “I want tae ken about my da. Will ye tell me how he died?” he asked, his mouth twisted with uncertainty. “Ma willnae speak tae me about it.”

  He started to tell him a lie in order to spare the lad’s feelings, but then he decided against it. “’Tis likely that she isnae aware of all the details of what happened. All we perceive is that reivers killed him, and your uncle has gone tae pursue the murderers.”

  Hamish fell silent, his expression becoming even more serious as he considered Griogair’s admission. “I hope Niall gets them.” As if he had every faith in his uncle, he changed the subject. “I heard that ye and Da had a fight, but ‘tis guid that ye’ve come tae visit us again.”

  Griogair winced at the comment just as his memories rushed back. He had argued with Robart, but now he wished that the disagreement had never taken place. If he still lived at Eddlemont Castle, then he would have accompanied Robart to the Lowlands to buy those horses. And he would have watched his foster brother’s back like always. Unfortunately he wasn’t there because he had disagreed with Robart’s scheme of selling horseflesh to the English.

  “’Tis nae a guid idea tae fraternize with those bastards,” Griogair had told him.

  “What’s the harm?” he asked, shrugging. “The times have changed, and they nay longer prove dangerous.”

  “I dinnae think that ye should engage in this plan,” he said, shaking his head. “Ye aid their cause by supplying them with quality mounts. King Harold hasnae declared a peace treaty. At any time he may choose tae betray us, and try tae take over Scotland.”

  “We are nae at war.” His voice was dismissive although he clenched his jaw.

  Griogair knew that he hit upon a sore spot, so he pushed further. “There’s always the possibility of war,” he said. “The English have been our enemies for centuries, and believe me, they’ll turn on ye.”

  Stubbornness reflected on his mentor’s face. “Aye, there’s always the possibility of war and deceit, but there’s also the chance that my clan will die of starvation.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Alasdar is nay longer a young man, and when he passes on I’ll be the next chieftain. Right now he isnae thinking about the clan’s future, but someone has tae think about it. One day ye will have a similar responsibility on your shoulders, and then ye will understand why I’m doing this.”

  “I still dinnae think ‘tis right,” he argued. “If the March Warden catches ye, ye will surely get convicted of treason.”

  “Sae what are ye saying, Griogair?” The glint in his eyes hardened. “Will ye be the one who will turn me in?”

  Griogair felt the veins throbbing at his neck. He wanted to say aye, but there was no way he could betray his foster brother to the authorities. Yet it was abundantly clear to him that Robart would meet the death penalty if he was caught aiding the enemy. “I willnae be the one tae turn ye in, brother,” he said, his voice low. “But ye risk your hide by doing this.”

  “Some risks are necessary.”

  “If ye say sae,” Griogair said, pressing his lips together. “Ye can do what ye will, but I willnae have any part in it. I depart for my brother’s holding at first light.”

  Those were the last words he spoke to Robart. As he reflected on the incident, Griogair tasted a bitterness at the back of his throat. He would never see his foster brother again, or have an opportunity to reconcile their differences. He would also never get a chance to tell his mentor that he was like a true brother to him, or to tell him good-bye...

  “Why did Da have tae die?” Hamish whispered, his lips quivering.

  Griogair shook his head slowly as Hamish’s inquiry drew him back to the present. As he considered the question, sorrow settled inside his heart. Unfortunately grief wouldn’t bring Robart back from the dead. He reached over and placed a hand on the boy’s head. “Death is inevitable, Hamish.” Even though he heard the words coming from his own mouth, he was dissatisfied with the answer. While death was unavoidable, Robart’s demise had come too soon.

  Hamish clenched his fists and looked away, clearly not liking his answer either. But Griogair didn’t have any other words to comfort the boy. He had seen his kin die in warfare, although their deaths hadn’t affected him as much as Robart’s.

  “Where are ye going?” Hamish asked.

  He hesitated in answering the boy, but it felt wrong somehow that so much information was withheld from him. “Your grand da asked me tae go tae the Lowlands tae find your uncle, and bring him home.”

  But as he made his admission, the remorse that he held at bay came racing back. If only he had been at the camp, he could have prevented the murder. What had flashed through Robart’s mind as he lay dying on the ground? Was his death swift, or was it a painful one? These were questions that would never have answers.

  “I want tae help find my uncle,” Hamish said, pushing his hair back, and peering up at him again.

  He was startled by the intensity in the boy’s eyes. They flashed with determination, and for a moment Griogair was at a loss for words. When the lad didn’t get the immediate response he desired, disappointment clouded his features, and he braced himself for rejection. With the loss and grief still riding on his young shoulders, Griogair didn’t have the heart to trample his feelings any further.

  “I thank ye for your offer,” he said gently. “I’ll count on ye if ever there’s a need. But today I must travel alone. There’s one thing ye can do for me though.”

  “What is it?” he asked eagerly.

  “I want ye tae take care of your ma. Do ye think ye can do this?”

  “Aye, I can,” he said, the determined spark returning to his eyes. “I’ll keep her safe.”

  “Why dinnae ye leave Griogair tae finish his meal,” a soft voice said, interrupting them. “Griogair has a long ride ahead of him, and he needs his nourishment.”

  “All right, Ma,” Hamish said, and reluctantly withdrew from his side.

  When the lad was gone, Griogair met the gaze of Robart’s widow. “I’m sorry about what happened, Peigi.”

  “I’m sorry too,” she said, blinking back her tears. When she looked back at him, he saw that her eyelids drooped at the corners, as if she was too tired to open them wider. Her emotions were held at a fine balance. He suspected that if no one was around, she would have likely given into her grief. But she was a proud woman, and she wouldn’t want to cry in front of him or anyone else. There was an air of defeat and tragedy that covered her like a thick cloak. Shadows formed underneath her eyes, standing out against her fair skin. Her long brown hair hung down, framing her features. And the usual youthful coloring on her cheeks was gone.

  With her son well out of earshot, she sat down at the trestle table and pushed a small pack toward him. “’Tis oat flour for your journey,” she said, answering his unasked question.

  He offered his thanks. All he needed was to add water to the flour, and he could make the simple flatbread. It would save him time in his travels. And since game was scarce at this time of year, he wouldn’t have to rely on hunting.

  “Alasdar told me that ye will bring Niall home.” She wrapped her slim arms around her stomach, and regarded him with forlorn eyes.

  “Aye, but I’ll have tae find him first.”

  “Are ye certain that ‘tis a guid idea tae go alone? Ye will be entering a hazardous region, and I dinnae want anything bad tae happen tae ye either.” She fell silent for a moment, as if her declaration startled her. Then her face flushed and her tone hardened with icy rage. “Those reivers willnae hesitate tae murder and steal from anyone who crosses their path.”

  What she said was true, but he didn’t plan to deal with any reivers. Even though he grieved for his friend, he knew logically that pursuing his killers wouldn’t bring him back. What he could do was to fulfill his promise and bring Niall home safely.

  “Dinnae worry about me, Peigi,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

  Peigi watched him silently, her arms still wrapped around her wa
ist. He could hear Hamish’s dog barking in the background, and the sound of the servants cleaning the great hall added to the noise.

  She dropped her hands to her lap and held them there as if to stop them from trembling. “I would like tae ken what happened that night.” She compressed her lips until all the blood was gone from them. “Perhaps when Niall comes back, he can enlighten us, and tell us how my husband is now dead.” Her voice cracked; the pain, sorrow and outraged mixed together. “I dinnae ken why my husband was stolen away from me, Griogair. He had only gone tae buy horses. It makes nay sense why he died...” She covered her face with her hands, her thin shoulders shaking.

  “We may never ken why he died, Peigi. But never forget that your husband was a great warrior — a hero.”

  She raised her head and sniffed. “I willnae,” she said, wiping away the wetness on her cheek. She glanced down at her hands as if she was embarrassed by her reaction. “Robart always spoke highly of ye.”

  “He was closer tae me than my own brothers,” he stared at the cold oatcake in his plate as he remembered his courageous friend. The food that Griogair had eaten earlier settled in his stomach like a hard lump. “I should leave now while I still have enough light tae travel by,” he said.

  “How will ye find Niall?

  “Tae tell ye the truth, I’m nae certain. I’ll head over tae Ellison territory, and will see if anyone has encountered him. Once I find him, it shouldnae be too difficult tae bring him home.” At least that’s what he hoped.

  Chapter 8

  Although Sileas wasn’t fully awake yet, she was conscious of the soft movements nearby. Morning, she thought as a wave of fatigue washed over her. Flipping over on her side, she opened her eyes and stared at the high window, noting the first blush of dawn breaking through. She half wished that she could laze on the pallet, and soak in more of the warmth that radiated from the hearth. Sadly she couldn’t afford that luxury. It took time for the healing potion to work, and so she had stayed up for half of the night tending to Androu while her mother slept. She realized that if she didn’t offer help, her mother wouldn’t sleep at all.

  Pushing herself to a seated position, she stretched her arms out and let out a loud yawn.

  “Och, lass,” her mother said. “I didnae want tae wake ye, especially after what ye did last night.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. True, she was exhausted and she wanted to continue sleeping, but giving into her wishes wouldn’t make the chores go away. There was too much to do, and her mother, Jannet and the few servants they had couldn’t shoulder all the burdens.

  “Where are ye going?” she asked, noticing the bundle of clothes in her mother’s arms.

  “Tae the burn. These clothes need washing. Your brother hopefully will stay asleep until I get back.”

  Picking up the cloak that lay next to her, she gathered it around herself. Standing up, she said, “Give the clothes tae me, Ma. I’ll wash them.”

  “’Tis nae necessary,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll go.”

  “Nay, the morning is fine. And after I launder the clothing, I’ll take a dip in the stream.”

  “Are ye certain?” Indecision crossed over Crystane’s countenance.

  “Verra certain.” Before her mother could find some excuse not to accept her help, Sileas took the bundle from her arms.

  “Ye are a treasure, lass,” she said, smiling with relief and gratitude. “I dinnae ken what I would do without ye.”

  ***

  His horse’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, the sound becoming more audible than before. Griogair let out another curse. Once again his horse’s condition was deteriorating. He made the mistake of giving the stallion more yarrow, but the amount of water that Griogair had offered the animal wasn’t enough. Obviously the one thing that would lessen the horse’s state would be to consume more of the liquid. But he had no more water to give, so the best solution was to find a water source somewhere. He surveyed the horizon, taking in the hills and woody shrubs that spanned as far as his eyes could see. The last time he passed through the region was when he went with Rory and Duncan to fetch a healer for their father. The people here were hostile to strangers, so they didn’t tarry. He closed his eyes, concentrating on trying to remember everything he knew about the Borderlands.

  “Drovers traveled long distances in order tae sell their cattle. They would need water along the way,” he murmured to himself. Then an idea hit him. “That’s it! If we’re following one of their auld trails, then there’s bound tae be a waterway nearby. Once we find it, we can replenish the supply, drink as much as we want, and then continue with our search.” Reaching down, he patted his companion on his side. “Dinnae worry, we’ll find something soon.”

  Following his instincts, he pushed forward. All the while he studied the vast landscape. It was only when he saw the band of yellow and orange treetops in the skyline that he blinked. Where there were trees, there was also water to sustain them. Veering off to the right, he moved in the direction of the trees.

  As they got closer to the wooded area, he could hear the faint but distinctive sound of rushing water. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his intuition was right after all. Finding the water was fortuitous, since he didn’t know how much longer his steed would have lasted. He wanted to race ahead and get to the stream, but he discovered that the ground underneath had become uneven and rocky. There were two things he noticed at once. The trees were far fewer than he thought, and it wasn’t going to be that easy to get to the water source. Still, he nudged the horse forward and they struggled to climb to higher ground. When they reached the top, he noticed a small burn flowing gently on the other side of the slope.

  He took in the gigantic boulders and the golden bracken that lined the bank. From a distance, he would never have guessed that there was a gorge hidden in this part of the land. He dismounted and guided his steed down the damp slope. While he tried to be careful, he and his steed slipped on the incline, releasing the earthy fragrance of dirt and vegetation into the air. A few moments later, they reached the foot of the slope.

  “We made it,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out the satchel that contained the dried herbs. “I’ll have tae give ye more of this.”

  At the sight of the substance, his companion shied away from him, but Griogair held onto the reins, keeping the horse steady.

  “Take it, laddie,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over the stallion’s snout. “Ye ken that it will make ye feel better.”

  The horse’s ears twitched as if he considered the promise of recovery. Seeing the small opening, Griogair lifted his hand again until the yarrow was just underneath the steed’s snout.

  “That’s a guid lad,” he said, praising the mount when he reluctantly took the offering. He ran his hand along the horse’s sleek neck. “’Twas fortunate that the lass at the market had some yarrow for ye. Sae far it came in handy, and alleviated some of your discomforts.”

  As he watched his mount eat the rest of the dried plant from his hand, his mind wandered to the sweet lass that he met in the town market. He could easily imagine the way the fair wisps of hair fell over her brow, and the pretty smile that played on her lips. The disturbing thing was that since he met her a couple of days ago, her compelling visage appeared in his mind when he least expected it. She had wide hazel eyes and lush kissable lips. There was a tiny mole just beneath her right eye, however that mark hardly marred the smooth beauty of her face. If he came across her in some other place, he would have thought she was a faerie queen that was sent to test his commitment to Alasdar. For a woman who he only spoke briefly with, he couldn’t comprehend how she managed to get such a foothold into his mind. Even now if he closed his eyes, he could recall the soft scent of lavender and honey that clung to her. As odd as it seemed, she was somehow familiar to him, as if he knew her intimately. But that wasn’t possible. He had never come
across this woman before in his life.

  Leading the beast to the edge of the burn, he allowed the animal to lean over and drink his fill before moving to a better location along the bank. As Griogair walked, he tried to break the strange chain of thoughts. As soon as he found Niall, he would be gone from this place. It didn’t serve any purpose to be pondering over an attractive maid. But even as he told himself this, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Who was she? She displayed a certain shrewdness, but he sensed that there was something more to her, something fascinating and definitely intoxicating as well. If he wasn’t so distracted by his horse’s illness at the time, he might have conversed with her for a while longer.

  But as soon as that notion entered his brain, he dismissed it with a small amount of irritation. His reason for entering into the Borderlands wasn’t for social purposes. The Lowlanders were violent and not to be trusted. These reasons alone were enough to stay away from her and her people. He thrust all thoughts of the enticing lass away from his mind, since he didn’t want to consider her or her kin. His task was to find Niall MacRell and that was all. He didn’t need or want to complicate things by tangling with a Lowland lass. Her people were reivers and thought nothing of slitting the throats of innocents in order to get to their purses. Didn’t he already get robbed a few days ago? If he knew what was good for him, he would concentrate on the mission at hand, and be on his way.

  He stopped when he found a suitable spot for relaxing, and led his steed to the water’s edge. The horse let out a loud cough before he bent his head and took in more fluid. This section in the gully was a little unusual. It was rocky and the water itself was almost hidden, although the peacefulness of the brook reminded him of his home.

  An otter appeared on the other side of the bank. Knowing that it wasn’t alone, it quickly slipped its sleek body into the stream, and disappeared from view.