by Kara Griffin
“Whoa there, lad. Where ye be off to in such a hurry?”
The lad tried to break free of his hold, but Heath held firm.
“I was told to give you this.” He shoved a parchment in his hand and jerked his arm free.
Before Heath could ask him who sent the message, the lad fled.
“What do you make of that?” Brodin asked.
“I don’t ken. Strange. No one knows we’re here.” He opened the parchment and read the short line.
Come to my tent. Laird Fraser, Da.
“What does it say?” Graeme reached out to grasp the missive from him, but he crumbled it in his hand before he could do so.
“It’s from my father. He wants to see me.”
“Aye, go. We’ll keep searching for Gilroy and if I find him before you, you owe me the coin. We’ll meet at the corral,” Brodin said.
Heath nodded, but then stopped him. “If you find Gilroy, get him out of here and to safety. I’ll meet you back at the caves.”
Graeme, Brodin, and Liam headed off in different directions. He didn’t want his comrades to get caught should they have to wait for each other. It was best they separate in their search of the lad and leave straight off if they found him.
On his way to his father’s tent, he pulled his hood lower, because many of the people gathered near the ale barrels. He passed as quickly as he could and kept going until he reached the outskirts of the festival. There, many a tent erected for visitor’s rest. His clan’s tent wasn’t hard to spot for he’d set a banner above which waved in the early afternoon breeze.
How he missed beholding the image of the buck on the banner he’d held dear his entire life. Their war cry ‘I am ready’ came to mind, and he laughed, for he wasn’t ready to see his father. It had been at least three years, not since the battle at Methven, since they’d spoken. When he’d last seen him, their rejoin was verily agreeable. And yet, Heath approached with caution.
It wasn’t that he distrusted his father–it was more that he trusted no one in these uncertain times. Two sentries stood guard outside the tent. He stopped before them and recognized two of his clan’s favored soldiers. John and Lagan were most trustworthy and seasoned guardsmen of their clan. At least his father took precaution.
“Heath, ‘tis good you came. Ye look well. Your father bids you enter.” John bowed his head and waved his hand toward the opening.
But he hesitated. He wasn’t sure who else was within and he didn’t want to be recognized by any of the Bruce’s followers. Earlier in the year, the king put a price on their heads when Liam was found and tortured. Fortunately, Liam’s wife Makenna rescued him from Stirling’s dungeons and the king’s decree of execution. Heath and his comrades were listed as treasonous against Robert. Even though the king decided to negate the price and soon after he retracted the order. Regardless, they couldn’t take the chance that someone wouldn’t want to apprehend them.
Lagan stepped aside and motioned for him to go in with a flap of his hand. “It’s safe. None are inside but Laird Fraser. He’s alone. We’re to ensure none enter whilst ye are here.”
He gave a firm nod and entered. Inside the darkened tent, only one candle flamed to lighten the abode. He found his father leaning over a parchment near the candle. His light hair appeared grayer now and his bright eyes more faded. The wisps of his hair and beard unruly as if he’d stood on a windy mountainous peak. In his younger years, Laird Fraser was a fit warrior. Proud and strong. And now, not so with the way he bent over the table, peering at the missive.
“Why do you keep it so dark?”
His father turned at the sound of his voice. “Heath, my son. It does these old eyes good to see you. Come, come.”
He laughed. “You might see me and the parchment better if you lit a few more candles.”
His father scoffed. “The brightness hurts my eyes.”
“Have you received unfavorable news?” He pointed to the parchment.
Laird Fraser shrugged his shoulder. “All news is ill-boding these days. Come and sit with me. I am gladdened you came. It has been too long, my son, since I’ve seen ye.”
He did as bidden and sat in the chair across from his. “How did you ken I was here?”
“Even if my eyesight is poor, I still have eyes about. Lagan saw ye by the corral. He knew it was you for you much resemble me in my younger years. I wanted to find out how you’ve been faring.”
He took the cup offered and drank a sip of warm wine. It tasted sweet, much more so than the strong ale his father usually preferred. “Ah, you’re drinking wine these days?”
“I fear my stomach cannot handle ale any longer. Are ye well? You look strong.”
“I am well enough, Da. We continue to hide from the king, but have heard he might consider pardoning us. We await word, but won’t test his mood.”
“That is good news. Mayhap you will be able to return home then. I fear I will depart and will be called by His Grace, the Good Lord, before you come back to me. If that happens …”
“Da, you’re not that old. Cease such talk. You have many a year to live before that happens.” Heath raised his cup, but didn’t drink when his father adamantly shook his head.
“Nay, listen to me, son. I regret sending you off with the Bruce. My brother insisted and as always, I followed his lead. I should have done what I wanted … and brushed the matter aside as I was wont. I ken you didn’t intend to leave our men unaided in France. Roderick was responsible for his men, not you. He was your elder. I never should’ve listened to the talk of those who were against ye. I regret my compliance with King Edward’s call to arms. We never should’ve assisted him in the wars in France.”
Heath took hold of his father’s arm. “Da, it matters not now. All that is past. I am glad you believed me and that you side with the Scots and not the English. I only wish Roderick wasn’t captured. You’ve heard no word?”
“None, but we continue our communication. And I’ve nothing to barter that the French want in trade for him besides coin. Bah, the choices and mistakes of a young laird led me astray. I shouldn’t have sided with Edward back then. I wish that you return soon for we’ve had troubles. The MacKintoshs continue to vex us. They raided our lands and stole much of our winter stores. I’ve sent a number of our clansmen after them, but they lost their trail. I hesitate to step foot upon their land. It could bring us significant losses. I will not put my clansmen in a dire situation unless it is called for.”
Heath leaned back, dismayed by the news. With his father’s report, he was torn between doing his duty and following his heart. On the one hand, he should return home and help his father rule their clan and defend their clans’ people against their enemy. On the other hand, he wanted to join with the Scots Templars and use his fighting talents for righteousness.
“When ye return, you will help me bring the MacKintoshs to heel.”
Graciously his father didn’t require a response. Heath didn’t know how to tell him of his desire to join the order of the Templars. In hearing how Graeme’s grandfather aided the Templars, he too wanted to give himself to their order. It was better to fight in the name of God than for any other reason. He’d have to speak of his wishes once he was freed of his service to the Bruce. Likely, his father would abhor his decision and refuse to allow his pursuit.
Heath daren’t broach the subject now. “Our feud with the MacKintoshs goes way back and will likely continue. Send out more sentries to keep watch on our land.”
“I have done so. What brings you to the king’s festival? I wouldn’t deem you would come since you’re determined on keeping unseen.”
He finished the warm wine, content by its effect. “We search for our missing squire. He was heard to say he was coming here.”
“Ah, lads will oft take off when not watched. Have you visited Laird Hunter?”
“I have not and only just arrived. I don’t want my presence known, so I doubt I shall see him. How are the Hunters?” Heath crossed his a
nkles, relaxed by his father’s mollifying mood. It wasn’t usually the case, for he never sat back and conversed with him. Not even when he was a wee lad.
“Aylmer is one of my oldest friends. I ken him well and I say there is something troubling afoot here. He hasn’t come to greet me and there must be a disconcerting matter he’s dealing with. Otherwise he would’ve come by now.”
“Why don’t you go to Laird Hunter? I’m sure he’ll be glad for your help if he’s beset with troubles. I should go, for I aim to find the missing lad before the day is through.”
Laird Fraser bellowed a laugh. “Don’t be too hard on the lad. Remember what it was like to be young and spirited. Before ye leave, Heath, I want ye to ken … I am proud of you, son. You remind me of myself when I was a robust capable young man out to save the land and fight for what is right. Always side with the righteous and you shall always triumph. Remember that. Keep my words within your heart.”
He rose and helped his father to stand by throwing a hand down. It was unlike him to be expressive or fervent with his words, but Heath appreciated his candor. His father appeared weakened, but he was aged. He tried to discern his age, but it was impossible. No longer was he the spry warrior who boasted his ability at foiling any foe. Mayhap he didn’t have long to exist. Did he suspect he was dying? Heath resisted asking.
The scuffles with the MacKintoshs concerned him and Heath turned before he reached the exit of the tent. “Da, if you need me … if the shanty MacKintoshs become too difficult to deal with … send word. Send the message to Friar Hemm at Sweetheart Abbey. He knows how to reach me.”
“I will, son, if need be. Och the MacKintoshs will always be a thorn in our backsides, eh?”
“Is Ma well? I forgot to ask after her?” Heath stood near him and noticed his height surpassed his da’s. It struck him because his father had always stood taller than he.
“She is well. That woman will outlive me, I trust, for she’s always harping after me to take better care of myself. I let her grumble for it makes her happy. I should visit with Aylmer now.”
“Tell her I miss her and will visit when I can. Be well, Da. I shall see you soon.” He embraced his father, clapping him on the shoulder, and contented by their brief visitation. Their call wasn’t as contentious as he’d thought it might be.
Heath left the tent and gave his clansmen a wave and continued on with his search of the lad. The afternoon gave to revelry, and many sat around with cups of various drink. How he wished he had nothing more to occupy himself, but life was not as amiable at the present.
His life was filled with protecting the king, keeping his comrades safe, and ensuring he kept accurate accounts of those he killed. He gazed at the tassel hanging from his boot and suspected he might have to add to the numbers if the war with the MacKintoshs ensued.
Chapter Two
A great crowd came for the king’s autumn festival. All within the clan were excited at the prospect the king would actually attend. The king’s imminent presence caused a furor of activity for many wanted to make his stay as complacent as possible. Lillia Hunter finished her chores and chose her best overdress for the occasion. In her rush to get outside, she ran a comb through her hair and pulled on her softest slippers. She was on her way out of the keep when her father stopped her.
“Lass, you are to stay within the keep.”
She turned on her heel and noticed the deep frown of his eyes. “But why? I should like to join the entertainments, Da.”
Her father, Laird Aylmer Hunter, wasn’t one to refute or make demands of. He held up his hand and shook his head. “You are forbidden to leave the keep. Do you question your laird?”
“No, Da, but—”
“Go to your solar and stay there.” His tone suggested she not argue.
Lillia turned and marched up the stairs with as much forcefulness as she could muster, effectively letting him know of her displeasure. She entered her bedchamber and closed the door, utterly defeated. She’d worked hard for the past days helping her mother and those within the clan ready for the event. And now she wasn’t allowed to attend? As she stood by the window casement, looking out at the festival revelry, she couldn’t help but be seething mad.
Her view of the courtyard gave her an idea of how to escape the chamber. Yet climbing down a rope would be risky and she wasn’t certain it would be worth her neck. Besides that, the courtyard now filled with people and she would be noticed. If only her father would leave the fief. She’d have to keep watch and wait until he did so and then abscond outside.
Were her brothers at home, she might get them on her side and vie for her father’s permission to join the festivities. Hamish and Gawin no longer lived at the main keep. They were married and unfortunately, not concerned with her paltry plights. Being the middle of five siblings boded ill for her because her father doted on his sons. She was a meaningless, insignificant daughter.
That falsehood almost made her smile. Lillia leaned on her elbow and watched midday pass. She couldn’t stay ireful with her father, for he was a kind man and even though he teased her and said she vexed him at every turn, he did so with a grin. There had to be a good reason he wouldn’t let her attend the festival. She wished she knew what that reason was.
As she stood by the window casement feeling quite sorry for herself, her two younger brothers burst into the bedchamber. Their yells were enough to rattle the walls. Miles and Macon drew their makeshift swords and swung them high. They surrounded her and she tried to grab hold of one, but the other tripped her and she ended up on the floor.
“You two will be the death of me. Why are you not at the festival?”
Macon gripped his wooden sword and pouted. “Father won’t let us. He said we were too young. We’re not, are we?”
“Perhaps a wee bit.” She commiserated with them. Being twins of seven winters, the two hardly resembled each other. One had dark hair, Miles, and the lighter-haired, Macon. Though they were alike in many ways, Miles was a mite heavier in body, and Macon slightly taller. Lillia adored the lads, but they were often troublesome. Like her older brothers, they too like to play tricks on her or anyone for that matter.
“I’m sorry father won’t let you attend. If you were guarded, you’d be safe. Did you suggest he send the sentry with you?”
“Nay,” Macon shouted. “We should’ve suggested that.”
“We shall go and suggest it now,” Miles said. “Come, brother, onward.”
The two of them departed the chamber with as much noise and vigor and ran down the long hall to their parent’s solar. Lillia followed, for if her brothers might attend the festival, she might as well if she had a guard.
Outside the door of her parent’s bedchamber, she waited and listened. Her father grumbled at the lad’s suggestion, but her mother cheerfully agreed.
“That is a wonderful suggestion, Macon. I don’t see why you can’t attend with a guard.” Her mother held his chin and laughed when he pulled away. “They are wee lads out for merriment, Husband. Will you not concede and allow them to attend?”
Her father grumbled. “They’ll soon begin their training. I suppose they are old enough. Very well, dearest, but they will not flee from their guards. I want their pledge to remain with the guard.”
The two lads nodded and rushed from the chamber, all but running as if their father would change his mind and call them back.
“Be sure to take two guards with you, lads. Return to the keep before dark,” her mother yelled after them. “Don’t make us search for you.”
Lillia was about to enter and make the same suggestion, but her father’s tone stopped her.
“I ken not what to do, my love. We must send the lass away.”
She pressed her nose to the door and listened.
“But must we marry Lillia to a clan so far away? The Sinclairs are remote and we shall never see our fair daughter again.”
He sat on the bed next to her mother and clasped her hand. “It is the only way I c
an keep her safe. Even now there are those who will come to seize her. We cannot let that happen. I love the lass if she were my own. I made a pledge to the Guardians we would keep her safe.”
Lillia covered her mouth in shock at what she’d heard. She realized they were speaking of her. Who would come to seize her? Lord above, he was trying to betroth her again. She’d done her best to stay unattached, and even after her father introduced her to several men, she refused them all. With her oath to her own heart, she vowed she wouldn’t wed anyone but the man she’d given her heart to when she was a young lass.
Her parent’s discussion redrew her attention.
“At least with the Sinclairs she will be protected. I will not have the lass in danger. My spies tell me the Comyns openly discussed the possibility of Queen Yolande’s bairn surviving and of their plan to use the lass to unseat Robert.”
Lillia’s heart heaved. They would send her away? And more disturbing, she wasn’t their child? Astounded by her parent’s discussion, she held tight to the door frame. Could she be the queen’s child? All heard how the queen gave birth to King Alexander’s child after he died. It was bespoken that she birthed a dead bairn. Were the rumors a falsehood?
“All believe the queen lost the bairn. Why would the Comyns care if the queen’s child survived?”
“My dear, the child would be a direct descendant of King Alexander’s. That child would then be in line to rule the kingdom since there are no legitimate male heirs. I thought she was safe since the Guardians who witnessed the event are dead. The Bruce is the rightful ruler, and he’s gone to great lengths to secure our kingdom. If anyone finds out her birth, she’ll be used as a pawn to oust King Robert. We cannot let that happen, Gillian. Please agree with me, for I will be disheartened if ye don’t.”
“I suppose I have to agree with you. Very well, Aylmer. Have the Sinclairs arrived? Will you make the betrothal this day? Even now there could be Comyns attending the festival. She might be endangered and should leave at the soonest.”
