“I dinna want to talk of my troubles anymore. Tell me, why were ye bein’ fostered by an English earl if ye are a Scot?” He walked over and set the brooch on the bed.
Fia wanted to tell him about her family, but this was one question she couldn’t answer without revealing the queen’s secret group. So, instead, she decided to take the conversation in a different direction.
“I have a younger sister, Morag, who ye’ve already met.”
“Aye, the inquisitive lass with the long, strawberry-blond hair.”
“She is always gettin’ into trouble.”
“Why is she bein’ fostered in Northumberland as well?”
Fia didn’t answer. “Then I have twin brathairs named Conall and Dugal. Conall is quiet like my mathair, but Dougal is showin’ signs of possibly endin’ up a warrior just like my faither.”
“So, are yer brathairs still livin’ in Scotland? Or are they bein’ fostered out to the English as well?” He kept up with his persistent questions.
“I also have an Uncle Duff who my mathair raised like her son instead of her brathair, after her parents and siblin’s died in Burnt Candlemas.”
“Fia, ye are tryin’ yer hardest no’ to answer my question. Now tell me what I want to ken. Why are ye and yer sister bein’ fostered by an English earl and where did ye get the heart brooch? Matter of fact, why do ye have the late Queen Philippa’s crown?”
“All right, I’ll tell ye,” she said with a sigh, planning on giving him just enough information to satisfy him without divulging too many secrets. “Queen Philippa was my grandmathair. Though I was only three when she died and never really kent her, she left crowns to the eldest daughters of the king’s bastard triplets. She was the one to give us the heart brooches as well.” Her hand covered the pin as she spoke.
“Really?” he asked. “Then, that means the queen must have given the heart pin to Lorraine and the mysterious woman on the battlefield, too.”
Fia groaned inwardly, realizing she had probably just made matters worse. The last thing she wanted to do was to get Lorraine in trouble. Alastair asked too many questions and was very sharp. If she didn’t stop this conversation soon, he was bound to figure things out on his own.
There came a slight knock at the door. Niven poked his head inside. “My laird, yer hound is causin’ trouble in the great hall.”
“What?” He turned on his heel. “Now what did Cerberus do?”
“He stole a chicken from the kitchen and is runnin’ around the great hall with it in his mouth.”
“Let him eat it, I dinna care,” said Alastair with a wave of his hand.
“Ye dinna understand, my laird. The chicken is still alive and squawkin’ like the devil. The hound keeps droppin’ it at the feet of all the lassies and is scarin’ the bairns every time he picks it up and throws it in the air.”
“God’s eyes, I am goin’ to strangle that hound.” Alastair stormed toward the door.
“Nay, let me take care of it,” said Fia, quickly putting on her shoes and running toward the door. “Our dogs used to steal chickens back home as well. I ken how to stop it.” She quickly left the room.
Alastair watched Fia hurrying down the corridor, liking the fact she stepped in to handle problems, almost as if she were Lady of the castle.
“I like havin’ her around,” said Niven, smiling like a fool.
“Dinna get used to it. Because as soon as I contact Clan Grant, she is goin’ to be gone and my faither returned.”
“Are ye sure ye want to do that?” asked Niven.
“I have no other choice. Niven, clean up this room and have my pallet repaired. That bluidy hound did a number in here.”
“Aye,” said Niven, walking to the other side of the room, starting to pick up a few things. “It also looks like Cerberus chewed up yer travel bag.” He stared at the bag on the floor.
“Och, no’ the travel bag,” said Alastair, hurrying across the room. “Fia’s crown is in there. I had hoped to use that as part of the trade. I hope it isna ruined.”
“I dinna see a crown.” Niven picked up the mangled bag and peered inside.
“What do ye mean?” Alastair snatched the bag from Niven. “I ken the hellhound eats everythin’, but I highly doubt he could have devoured a jeweled crown.” Alastair dug through the bag, realizing that what Niven said was true. The crown was missing.
“Where do ye think it is?” asked Niven, looking around the floor. “Mayhap it fell out and is in the rushes.”
Remembering how Fia had clutched the bag and not wanted him to touch it made Alastair suspicious. He pulled out a half-eaten round of bread as well as a metal tankard that he recognized as one from the Iron Eagle. “Fia,” he growled, throwing the drinking vessel down.
Niven laughed. “My laird, I am sure the girl didna eat the crown. Cerberus might have taken it and buried it somewhere. Perhaps I should check outside in the garden.”
“Dinna bother.” He dropped the bag in disgust, his hands balling into fists. It all made sense now in some crazy way. Fia wanted to be alone with Lorraine. And when he followed her outside of the tavern, Lorraine was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t sure why she did it but he knew now that Fia had given the crown to Lorraine and replaced it with a dirty tankard and an old trencher to deceive him. “I’m goin’ to wring her neck,” he spat, hopping on one foot as he donned his boots.
“Who?” asked Niven.
“Fia.”
“Why? I dinna understand. Do ye think perhaps Brohain or Rhodric stole the crown?” Niven picked up the bag and inspected the inside again. “After all, they had their eye on it since the first time we met Fia in the woods. Plus, ye said yerself that ye couldna trust them.”
“Nay, I dinna think they took it at all. I think our angelic wee prisoner is no’ as innocent as she wants us to believe.” He strapped on his weapon belt. Feeling his blood boiling, he reached for his sword.
“Ye think Fia stole her own crown?”
“She gave it away, ye fool. And now I have less leverage for the return of my faither.”
“Are ye goin’ to ask her what she did with it?”
“I am goin’ to get the truth if I have to shake it out of her to do it. The lyin’ wench is keepin’ things from me. I need answers.” He walked back to the bed and scooped up the heart pin and slipped it into the pouch attached to his belt.
“Why would she do somethin’ like that?” asked Niven, scratching his head. “I dinna understand.”
“I’ll make her tell me.” Alastair stormed toward the door.
“But will she? Or will she only keep more from ye if ye demand answers she is no’ willin’ to give ye?”
Alastair stopped in his tracks. Niven was usually naught but a dimwit but sometimes he made sense. This was one of those times.
“Ye’re right,” said Alastair, touching the outside of the pouch thinking about the heart brooch. If he pushed Fia too hard, he would never find out what he wanted to know about the pin. Therefore, he would never find out whom the mysterious woman was who saved his life. He closed the door and came back into the room. “We have to trick her into tellin’ me.”
“We?” Niven’s palms slapped against his chest and his brows arched. “Are ye sayin’ ye want me to help ye?”
“Why no’? Ye were the one who came up with the idea.”
“I did?” Niven’s eyes opened wide, and bewilderment showed in his features. “I mean . . . I did.” He stood up straighter and fixed his plaid. “So what do ye think we should do next?”
“I have an idea that might work. But ye have to keep it a secret, do ye understand?”
“I’m good at keepin’ secrets,” said Niven. “My lips are sealed.” He pressed his lips together tightly.
All Alastair could think about was his last birthday and how Niven told him months in advance that the clan was getting him a dog. Niven had come up with the idea and also chosen the hellhound for him, he reminded himself. Alastair groaned inwardly, reali
zing this whole plan was probably going to backfire and blow up in his face.
Chapter 14
“That’s a guid boy,” said Fia, taking the chicken from the dog, giving the hound a piece of dried meat in its place. She handed the chicken to a serving boy. The bird flapped its wings, trying to get away. “Ye need to be a guid dog or Alastair is goin’ to get angry.” The dog jumped up and tried to put its paws on her shoulders, but she turned to the side and stepped out of the way. “Off,” she said, not rewarding the dog for bad behavior. “Sit,” she told it several times. Finally, the dog sat at her feet. “Down,” she told it, noticing the dog needed love and attention. It whined, but lay down, putting its head between its paws. “Now ye’ll be rewarded,” she said, getting down on the ground and petting the dog, kissing it atop its head. Cerberus wagged its tail happily, sending rushes from the floor flying in all directions. She laughed, thinking the dog reminded her of Alastair, responding so excitedly to a little attention.
“Get up,” she heard from behind her. “The floor is no place for a noblewoman.”
Fia looked up, but stayed on the floor, continuing to pet the dog. Alastair stood there holding something behind his back. “Alastair. Did ye see what Cerberus did? He no’ only gave me the chicken but sat and even laid down.”
“If only ye were as obedient. Now, I said, get off the floor.” His hand came under her arm, and he pulled her to her feet.
“He only wants attention. That is why he is so naughty. I think with a little trainin’, he can turn out to be a verra obedient dog.”
“Fia, forget about the dog.”
“His fur is matted, and he is pretty dirty and could use a bath.”
“Then I’ll throw him in the moat.”
“The moat? Nay! That water is so dirty.”
“Leave the dog and come to the dais with me. I have an important announcement to make.” He dragged her to the dais and from behind his back held out and dropped the travel bag atop the table. An instant knot twisted in her stomach. So, he had found out that the crown was gone after all. She was not looking forward to this.
“Quiet, everyone,” said Alastair, raising his hand in the air. “I have an important announcement to make. Please, gather around.”
The great hall was quite packed this morning, reminding Fia of a typical castle. She wasn’t sure where all these people had been last night, but perhaps there were cottages spread out over the laird’s demesne where they stayed when Alastair was not in residence. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of Niven lurking in the shadows at the back of the hall.
“What is it, my laird?” asked Rhodric as everyone gathered around the long, raised table.
“Have ye heard word of the ambush on the English yet?” asked Brohain excitedly.
“Are we goin’ to fight as well?” asked another clan member.
“Earc should be back by tomorrow. We’ll ken more about the ambush then,” said Alastair. “For now, I want to say that someone has stolen from me and I will no’ take it lightly.”
“What’s been stolen?” asked Fearchar.
Alastair held up the travel bag for all to see. Fia noticed it looked as if the dog had been chewing on it. “Fia’s jeweled crown is missin’, and I will no’ only imprison, but hang the person who stole it from me.”
“The crown is gone?” growled Brohain. “I told ye we should have sold it.”
“Did ye take it?” asked Alastair. “Or was it Rhodric? After all, we all ken ye two were the ones who wanted it the most.”
“If we were goin’ to steal it, we would have done it long ago,” snapped Rhodric.
“That doesna instill a lot of confidence in me,” Alastair told them. Then he looked over to Fia. “What do ye have to say about yer crown bein’ missin’? After all, ye dinna seem verra surprised or upset.”
“I – I think it’s awful,” said Fia, trying her best to look upset. “I want my crown back.”
“I agree,” said Alastair. “I want it back, too. Where do ye think it is?”
Fia looked out at the crowd of people all staring at her. Mayhap, she should tell Alastair the truth, but this wasn’t the place or time. Perhaps, if she could hold him off a little longer, Richard’s troops might retreat, and the Scots’ lives be spared. Mayhap, he’d be happy instead of angry. Nay, she couldn’t tell him now with everyone in front of her. She would wait until later. “I – I dinna ken where the crown is,” she said, not lying completely. The crown could be with Richard, then again, mayhap the courier was attacked in the woods, and the crown stolen by bandits. She had no idea.
“The way I see it, there were only three people who had contact with this bag,” Alastair announced. “I ken I didna take it. And since Lady Fia doesna ken where it is, then that tells me that Niven was the one to steal the crown.”
Shouts went up from the crowd.
“There he is!” Alastair pointed to the back of the great hall. “Men, get him and throw him in the dungeon. He will be hanged tomorrow at sunup.”
“Nay, leave me alone. I dinna take it,” cried Niven as Brohain and Rhodric hauled him away.
“We should kill ye right here and now, ye traitor,” spat Brohain, pulling his sword from the sheath.
“Nay! Put him in the dungeon only. I will see to his execution in the mornin’,” commanded Alastair. “Now, take him away.”
“Nay!” cried Fia. “Dinna accuse Niven. I am sure he didna steal the crown.”
Alastair looked over to Fia thinking that now he would have his answer. His little plan was working beautifully.
“How can ye be sure?” asked Alastair. “Unless ye ken who took it. If no’, I would say Niven is the only other one who could have stolen it. After all, I left him to attend to ye in the Iron Eagle.”
“Perhaps it was stolen by someone when we werena watchin’, but I ken Niven would never do somethin’ like that.” Fia’s worried gaze shot over to Niven and then back to Alastair. “Please, Alastair, dinna kill Niven. He is innocent.”
“I have no idea where the crown could be!” shouted Niven.
“The bag has been chewed on by the dog,” she said, pointing at the travel bag. “Mayhap the hound stole it and – and buried it somewhere.”
“Really,” he said in a low voice. “I hardly think anyone would miss a huge mutt walkin’ through the courtyard with a jeweled crown in its mouth.”
“M-mayhap Cerberus did it when it was dark,” she stammered.
“I dinna think so. Take him away.” With a wave of his hand, Alastair sat down on his chair. He hoped to hell Brohain and Rhodric wouldn’t take the matter into their own hands and kill Niven. After all, this was only a setup to corner Fia into telling him what she did with the crown. “Fearchar, come here,” he said, calling over one of his loyal men.
“Aye, my laird?” The man approached the edge of the dais.
Alastair leaned over and whispered to him. “Take two men with ye and go to the dungeon. Then, stay there and watch over Niven until I tell ye otherwise. Make certain Brohain and Rhodric dinna harm him.”
“Aye, my laird,” said Fearchar, hurrying away to do as instructed.
“What did ye tell him?” asked Fia, looking very worried.
“I told him to guard the prisoner since he is dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Niven isna any more dangerous than yer hound!”
“Hah!” he snorted. “That doesna say much considerin’ Cerberus tore apart my solar and caused a lot of damage.”
“Alastair, ye canna mean to tell me that ye think Niven is a thief.”
“I can unless ye tell me otherwise. Can ye?”
Her eyes fell to the table, and she wrung her hands. “I – dinna ken.”
“That’s what I thought.” He raised his hand in the air. “Servers, bring the food. I am hungry.”
“How can ye eat at a time like this?” she asked. “Ye have just sentenced yer best and loyal friend to death without even havin’ evidence of the crime that ye accuse
d him of commitin’.”
“I am laird and have to do the right thing, no matter if Niven is my friend or no’. Now, sit down and eat,” he said, pulling her into the chair. He figured it wouldn’t be long now until she caved and told him everything he wanted to know.
Fia finally had a moment to herself when she took Cerberus for a walk in the castle orchard later that day. She still wasn’t outside the castle walls, but now she couldn’t even think of escaping before she did something to help set Niven free. How could this have gotten so out of hand? She didn’t think Alastair was such an ogre that he’d condemn his friend to death. She wondered why he would do such a thing over a stupid crown that wasn’t even his to begin with.
“Come here, Cerberus,” she said, calling the dog over, but it wasn’t listening. The hound seemed to have a squirrel or something cornered behind the apple tree. Cerberus kept barking and running in circles. “How am I goin’ to think of a plan when ye keep actin’ like that?” She went over to the dog, thinking she’d find a squirrel or rabbit, but was instead surprised when she found a young woman hunkered down behind the tree, crying.
“Down, Cerberus,” she said, pulling the dog away from the girl. “Go on,” she said, throwing a stick. The hound tore out of the garden to fetch the stick. But instead of retrieving it, it lay down and gnawed on the wood.
“Please, dinna hurt me,” said the girl, looking up with tears in her eyes. She seemed to be a few years younger than Fia. She had long black hair, gray eyes, and was dressed in the MacPherson plaid.
“I willna hurt ye,” said Fia, sitting down on the ground next to her. “Who are ye, lass, and why are ye cryin’?”
Before the girl even answered, Fia noticed her eyes were the same color as Alastair’s. Her features looked similar to his as well. “Are ye related to Alastair?”
Highland Secrets Page 14
