by Amanda Scott
“Mercy, how could it be? That knife is too small to be a weapon.”
“Small enough to hide, aye. Sithee, lass, if a man attacks you with a weapon, no matter how quick you are, you won’t have time to draw your dirk. You may not even see him coming, so he could slit your throat before you knew the danger. However, if he grabs you—to abduct you or otherwise harm you—and tries to force you to the ground or carry you off, if you have a wee, sharp knife that you can draw secretly, you may be able to hurt him enough to get yourself away.”
“But surely if he sees that I have a dirk and might cut him with it—”
“The worst thing you could do is to wear that dirk of yours where men will see it and talk about it. If an enemy knows you have it, he won’t give you a chance to get it out of its sheath. Remember that I let you draw it and offered an unmoving target that I held with both hands. Even so, I easily disarmed you.”
“Aye, you did,” she agreed, gritting her teeth to avoid reminding him of how furious and helpless he had made her feel. The most irritating thing now was that she knew he was right.
“Can you really teach me to defend myself?”
“The first thing to learn is to avoid confrontation, but I can also teach you ways that may help against an attacker. The one lesson I want you to take to heart right now, mo chridhe, is that the best way to defend yourself is not to put yourself in harm’s way. When I saw you step out of the shrubbery that day, to confront those three louts…” He paused, cleared his throat, and said, “You were safe before, and you stepped into danger. Count yourself fortunate that I could not reach down from that tree and snatch you up across my knee. I wanted to, and I was not your husband then. But I am now. You would be wise never to do such a daft thing again.”
The shiver that shot up her spine then told her that he meant every word.
Mag saw that she understood and hoped she would remember his warning, because if Andrew did get the help he sought and went to battle against Pharlain, danger would threaten every acre of Tùr Meiloach. The thought that, under such circumstances, she might slip off on one of her rambles and run into dangers of which she now had little ken threatened to curdle his liver.
True to his word, he described ways to avoid danger through caution and by verbally disarming troublemakers.
A longer-than-usual-lull occurred in their discussion when she insisted that the dirk made her feel safer whether it made her safer or not. He decided at that point that silence would serve him better as a response than words could.
However, his silence failed to make her reconsider her words, as he had hoped it would. Instead, she said, “You and the laird seemed more at ease with each other before we departed.”
“We were, aye. But I want to think more about our conversation before discussing it. Right now, we’re talking about you and your devilish dirk.”
“Aye, sure. But you should know that he cares as deeply about you as I think you do about him, sir. Also, he fears that you won’t ever forgive him.”
“I ken fine that he never said such a thing to you, Andrena.”
“He did not have to,” she said. “I asked him to call me Dree, as most of my family and close friends do. He said he was afraid that you would not like that. If he does not care about you, why would he care what you think?”
“Has he called you Dree?”
“Aye, once, but then you came in. He did not do so again.”
He felt the beginnings of a smile tug his lips but stopped it by saying, “Do you think I would object to his calling you Dree?”
“Nay, I do not, and I told him so. I also said that if you did, I would tell you to your head that you were wrong.”
He chuckled. “What did he say then?”
“He asked me if I often tell you, you are wrong. He also warned me that Galbraith men have fearsome tempers.”
“I see. That brings us back to where we were, though, does it not? If you do not want to stir my temper, Dree, you will heed what I have said to you today.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she said, “I ken fine that you know all about such things, but I cannot imagine that an eating knife can provide much protection.”
“I will show you how when we get home,” he promised. “Meantime, we can talk more about ways for you to avoid stepping into trouble.”
She sighed again, but he noted as they continued up the steep path toward the pass that she seemed more fully engaged in their discussion. She also had some interesting ideas of her own about how to defuse verbal conflict.
“I’ve watched Lina do that sort of thing for years,” she explained. “Murie and I frequently disagree. But often, before a difference can grow into an argument, Lina intervenes so deftly that we forget we were in disagreement.”
“Diversion is useful in warfare, too,” he said. “And as a defense tactic. A good way to divert any attacker is to make him think you have reinforcements coming. Often, you need only plant a seed of that possibility in his mind.”
Noting that the suggestion seemed to intrigue her, he added firmly, “It is still better to run if your enemy outnumbers, outweighs, or can otherwise subdue you. Sakes, lass, that is no more than common sense, especially on Tùr Meiloach land, where you know the territory better than an attacker from elsewhere could.”
They talked about defense and similar topics until they neared the high pass, where it was necessary to concentrate more on where they put their feet. As they made their way through the pass, Mag saw shadowy figures watching from the crags, showing themselves but never approaching. When he pointed one out, Andrena waved and said, “Aye, sure, that’s Calum Beg. He has a cot near here, and although the slope above it looks like naught but scree and boulders, he grows barley in patches there. Calum also tends sheep. His sons watch the pass, too, but see few intruders. Sithee, numerous men have disappeared along this route, which deters others from following it beyond Glen Luss.”
Her casual manner made his hair stand on end. Clearly, Andrew had not left the safety of Tùr Meiloach solely to his tales of fairies, bogs, and evil beasts.
Andrena felt vaguely aware that she had given Mag a shock. His expression seemed merely to have frozen, but when his wide-eyed gaze met hers, she was sure.
“We didn’t murder them, sir,” she assured him with a grin. “ ’Twas but one way that MacFarlans who wanted to join my father were able to disappear from Arrochar without Pharlain or his men following them. They would say that they were going to try to sneak in through Glen Luss, and…” She spread her hands.
“I see.”
She wondered if he did, but he went on to talk about situations in which she might find herself at a physical disadvantage. By the time they reached the gates of the tower, he had given her much good advice. She still thought he worried too much.
Andrew met them at the gate and demanded to know what Galbraith had said about aiding him against Pharlain.
“He will help if he can,” Mag replied.
In the face of Andrew’s patent disbelief, Andrena didn’t blame her husband for adding hastily, “He did say that, sir.”
Catching her father’s eye, she said, “He meant it, too, sir. I cannot be as sure that he will support his grace, though. He admitted fearing that the rebel leaders are too powerful for the King to defeat. But his promise to aid us was sincere. He said only that he’d want assurance from you that you expect to prevail.”
When Mag shifted uneasily, she looked up to see bleakness in his eyes.
Andrew saw it, too, for he said, “Ye didna believe him, eh, lad?”
With a grimace, Mag said, “By my troth, my lord, I want to believe him. But I do not know if I can or not.”
Andrew nodded and turned back to Andrena. “But ye did believe him, aye?”
“I did,” she said firmly. “He meant what he said, sir. I am sure of that. I don’t know him well enough to judge whether he is one who changes his mind easily—”
“Nay, nay, the man be as obstinate as a g
oat. If he said that he meant it, ’tis more likely that he does than does not. Your da does still be a man of honor, lad.”
Mag nodded.
But Andrena was learning more about him each day. And she doubted that Andrew’s words, or hers, had reassured him.
“Ye’ll come wi’ me now,” Andrew said to Mag. “We’ll let our Dree visit the womenfolk and get herself tidied up for supper.”
“With respect, my lord, I did find more clothes for myself at Inch Galbraith. So I’d liefer have a bath first and change into a fresh shirt and breeks.”
“Aye, sure, ye do that. I’ll tell the lads to haul up our biggest tub and hot water to fill it. But we can talk whilst they do that. We willna need Dree, though, so she had better show herself to her mam and her sisters.”
Andrena glanced at Mag to see if he would object to Andrew’s decree, but he said, “Go and see them, lass. We won’t be long.”
“I hope not,” she replied, smiling. “I’m nigh starving.”
Following Andrew to his chamber, Mag hoped the older man would not try to persuade him that he knew Galbraith better than Mag did. But on entering the room, Andrew went straight for the jug of whisky and two mugs. Pouring whisky into each and handing one to Mag, he said, “Sit, lad. Put your feet up if ye like, for ye’ve had a hard few days of it. But if Galbraith and Colquhoun will both aid us, I’m fain to craft some strategy with ye, against Parlan.”
Mag sat, collected his thoughts, and said, “I did learn something you should know. He sent word to my father and other Loch Lomond lairds, ordering them to gather their men, because he means to travel to Perth in force. I think that that order, added to what I told my father, persuaded him that a plot is brewing.”
“Aye, sure,” Andrew said. “That Parlan means to travel with an unlawful army makes it plain. We must think on this and see if there be summat we can do to reduce that army’s size. If Galbraith will refuse to provide his men—”
“He did not say he would refuse,” Mag said. “However, I’m nearly certain he was unaware of the plot before I told him. The rub is that he believes the order for them all to ride together to Perth might have originated with Lennox.”
“I wouldna doubt that it did, though it sounds gey unlike Lennox to take such a risk whilst he’s under arrest. But to ride as an army against his grace? Arthur willna be party to that, lad. But tell me now, how did ye get on with him?”
“As you predicted, sir. That is to say, he did apologize for what he said to me two years ago. But ’tis hard for me to trust his word.”
“He did betray your trust,” Andrew said. “Still and all, if our Dree says ye can trust him now, ye can.”
“Perhaps you will be kind enough, this time, to explain why you are so sure of that,” Mag said. “You seem to trust her knowledge, just as she seems to trust the beasts hereabouts to protect her. I am not so trustful of either thing and would like to know why I should be.”
He settled comfortably on the back-stool then and sipped his whisky without taking his eyes off his host. This time, he was determined to get an answer.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Andrew looked disconcerted.
Andrena lingered in the solar with her sisters and mother just long enough to explain that they had talked with Galbraith and he’d promised to help Andrew if he could. She made no mention of his grace or the conspirators.
She had begun to describe their return journey, when Muriella said, “But that cannot be all that happened, Dree. Surely, there was something more, something extraordinary that stirred your emotions to a fever’s pitch.”
Andrena frowned. “I do not recall such a thing, Murie. Our journey each way took a full day, and we spent only two nights at Inch Galbraith.”
“Aye, well, ’tis yestermorn that I’m thinking about,” Murie said. “Something happened then near dawn, because I awoke to the strangest sensations. Sithee, I had a strong awareness, stronger than any I’ve had before, that you were in raptures. Lina felt it, too. And you know that for her to feel your emotions is not as common as it is for me.”
Feeling heat flood her cheeks, Andrena glanced at Lady Aubrey, saw the twinkle in her eyes, and looked hastily at Lina, whose expression was quizzical. To Murie, she said, “I do not know what to tell you, except that Mag and his father are no longer at odds with each other. I was gey delighted about that, I can tell you.”
“Doubtless, that is what it was then,” Lina said, nodding and returning her attention to her tambour frame.
“Aye, perhaps it was only that,” Muriella said. “It felt as if it would be a much more interesting story, though. I was fain to hear what it might be.”
“The tale of Magnus and his father is not one that you may bruit about,” Lady Aubrey said. “It is too personal, and Magnus would dislike your telling it to others.”
“I won’t,” Murie said with a sigh. “It is not only too personal. It would also hold small interest for people seeking diversion from their own dull lives, from their sorrows, even from their fratching and their feuds.”
Andrena smiled. “I don’t think anything that I do or that Magnus does would divert anyone from feuds or fratching.”
“You never know,” Murie said with a teasing grin. “A good story can be gey powerful if the right person tells it.”
“By which you mean if the storyteller exaggerates the details to mythical proportions,” Lina said, giving her younger sister a stern look.
“Aye, sure, exaggeration adds to a story’s power and makes any tale more memorable,” the undaunted Muriella said with a shrug.
Andrena sighed. At least she had diverted Murie from further demands to know what had excited her yestermorn. She did not mean to share details of her sexual experiences with her sisters—ever.
Andrew drew a breath and let it out, giving the still-silent Mag hope that the older man would at last tell him what he wanted to know.
Andrew said, “Ye must have heard much talk of us at Arrochar.”
Mag nodded.
“Mayhap talk about me daughters or me lady wife?”
Recalling Pluff’s comments but seeing no need to tell Andrew that the most interesting information about Lady Aubrey had come from the lad, Mag said, “I heard only that Lady MacFarlan sometimes sees things that others do not see.”
“Aye, but rarely, mind. Forbye, when we left Arrochar, I agreed to go only because she said we must get our wee babe, Andrena, to safety or I’d have nae hope of ever regaining what Parlan had taken. Sithee, our own two lads were dead by then, and we knew it. We had a secret way out of the castle, so we hied ourselves south toward Tùr Meiloach, which has long been a sanctuary for true MacFarlans.”
“Is that tale real, sir, or merely a folk tale?”
“ ’Tis real. My lass said that all would be well if we could cross the river, that Tùr Meiloach would protect us if we could reach it. That was enough for me.”
“You said that Andrena was a baby. How small?”
“Nobbut two days old.” When Mag uttered a sound of protest, Andrew raised a hand. “I’ll tell it me own way or not at all. It was a dark night with but a thread of a moon to guide us. My lass made it nigh to the river afore she fell. Out of childbed betimes as she was, she’d spent what strength she had to get that far. I was frantic, I dinna mind telling ye. But she insisted I must go on, that we’d lose all if I failed to cross the river. I swore I wouldna leave her and the bairn.”
“ ‘Nor should ye,’ the woman says to me. ‘Ye’ll take her across with ye.’ Her words near sent me wild. But she promised me she’d be safe, and I could hear Parlan’s men ever nearer. So I put my lady under the shrubbery, wrapped in her cloak. Then snatched up the bairn in her swaddling and dashed on to the river.”
Mag’s mouth was dry. He drank some ale.
“The water was savage, in full spate,” Andrew said. “If ye’ve no seen it up close, I can tell ye it be wilder than the river south of here. But having seen its great falls from the
loch, ye’ll ken how it plunges down over high, sheer, unclimbable cliffs. Parlan’s men were close behind me by then. I had nae time to think.”
Reminding himself that Andrena and Lady Aubrey had survived, Mag stifled further protest, fearing that if he spoke, Andrew would refuse to say more.
Andrew eyed him quizzically, then relaxed and said, “I have me doots that ye’ll credit what I tell ye next. Sithee, I’d heard seanachies tell the ancient Roman tale of Camilla’s da and his spear. D’ye ken that one?”
Mag nodded and fought down a chill that threatened to shoot up his spine. “You bound your own wee daughter to a spear and chucked her across the river?”
“I did, aye, over the river to a clearing in the woods beyond.” He paused. “Only afterward did I hear the wolves.”
The chill swept through Mag unchecked then. But a heavy double-rap on the door interjected itself before he could reply.
“Aye, Malcolm, what d’ye want?” Andrew demanded curtly.
The door opened to reveal not only Malcolm but the burly Euan MacNur gripping a terrified-looking Pluff by the back of his jacket.
Chapter 19
Andrena found Tibby and a tub half-filled with hot water when she reached the chamber she shared with Mag, but no Magnus. Waiting only until men had brought up the last of the hot water and a pitcher of cold to cool it, if necessary, she shooed them away and took advantage of the tub.
With Tibby’s help, she washed quickly, expecting Mag to show up at any time and feeling shy at the knowledge that he would walk in on the two of them without knocking. Then she was out and dressed in her favorite kirtle, its amber color reminding her of autumn leaves. Tibby had pinned up Andrena’s plaits in a pile atop her head. Strands that had escaped them were damp from her own hasty washing of parts she could reach and from Tibby’s energetic scrubbing of her back.
“I’ll take them pins out now, m’lady, if ye’ll sit on yon stool,” Tibby said.
