Beloved Secrets, Book 3

by Marti Talbott

  IN A CLAN AS SMALL as the MacGreagor clan had become, everyone knew everyone else very well. Not all of them got along, naturally, and some switched from this friend to another from time to time. Evander and Shaw were raised in cottages that sat side by side and when Shaw was not off with Bruce, he was with Evander. They hunted together, fished, caught frogs and chased girls with them together. Not once was there a serious falling out between the two, and Shaw did not expect there ever would be. Therefore, his mood improved considerably when Evander finally came to see him. “’Tis good to see you again.”

  “And I you,” said Evander and he gently touched Shaw’s arm. He pulled a chair away from the table and eased his sore body into it. An almost healed black eye and a fresh scar on his arm gave proof that Evander had not run from the battle. Still, his muscles appeared to be sore and working in the garden had not helped. “Know you what Hendry wants with us?”

  “Nay, I have not heard.”

  Evander seemed mesmerized watching Glenna cut the vegetables. “Nor have I. He confides in no one and certainly not me, for he knows I would tell you. Everyone is talkin’.”

  “About what?” Shaw asked.

  “About Dan gone to chop wood and you bein’ the cause of it. What did you say to him?”

  Shaw answered, “’Tis between Dan and I.”

  “Secrets already? Bruce taught you well.” Evander meant it as a compliment and from the slight smile on Shaw’s face, his friend took it as such.

  “I saw you in the gardens. Is there more work there to be had?”

  “Not that much more. Another day or two perhaps, then we can let the cows have at what is left.” Evander drew in a deep breath as though he was relaxing for the first time in days. “The lasses fret over havin’ no honey to sweeten their cream and bread. Is that not odd in times such as these?”

  Glenna put a comforting hand on Evander’s shoulder. “Let them fret. ’Tis to take their minds off their sorrows.”

  “They lament over more than that,” Evander added. “Most of the lads are married and without husbands, the others see little hope for their happiness. We have but two widows with babes not yet born, and the others fear the clan cannae grow without more children. They say...” Evander stopped to look at Glenna.

  “They say what?” Shaw asked.

  “I dare not say it in front of your Aunt.”

  “I am quite certain I have already heard it,” Glenna said.

  “I doubt it, but...well, it is said Hendry has offered to...” Again, Evander paused to look at Glenna.

  “To what?” Glenna asked.

  “To father their children.”

  Glenna’s jaw dropped. “Was he not jestin’?”

  “They say not.”

  “How many are the lasses who say this?” Shaw asked.

  “Two have spoken to me about it. They asked that I be the one to tell you when you are well enough, but the whole clan knows about it.”

  “’Tis just gossip,” Glenna scoffed. “I have not seen him leave the castle since he came back from the moor.”

  “He goes out at night without you knowin’, then,” Evander argued.

  “’Tis possible, I suppose,” she admitted. Glenna scooped up a handful of cut vegetables and added them to the pot of water. “I cannae imagine Hendry is so bold as all that, even when he is drunk.”

  Evander chuckled, “Why not? He has little else to do.” He chuckled again when Glenna rolled her eyes and then scooped up more vegetables.

  Shaw puffed his cheeks and slowly released his breath. “At least he does not threaten to force them.”

  “Not yet,” Evander muttered.

  “Evander MacGreagor,” Glenna scoffed, “you know the edict forbids a lad to force a lass.”

  “You know it and I know it, but what if Hendry chooses not to abide by an ancient edict. I have heard him say ‘tis foolish to follow the ways of the elders.”

  Glenna was still not convinced. “Even so, the MacGreagors shall never allow such a thing. The punishment is death and he well knows it.”

  “He needs a wife to tame him,” Evander said. “’Twas what my father said of all foolish unmarried lads.”

  “Aye,” said Glenna, “but who would have Hendry? I know of no lass who prefers him, and with good reason. He is too unyieldin’ in his manner where the lasses are concerned.”

  “Perhaps we might bribe someone to marry him?” Evander joked.

  Shaw listened to the two of them debate Hendry’s shortcomings until they had exhausted the subject. At length, he said, “Hendry is not our biggest concern. We are too weak now with so many of the lads passed. What is to stop the English from attackin’?”

  Evander rubbed his sore arm. “I have wondered the same, but they say England’s Henry the VIII is yet in France and we are safe until he returns. Perhaps if they attack us when he returns, we would do well to surrender.”

  Glenna was horrified. “Willingly give the English our land? Have we not always fought and died to keep it?”

  “How many more must die to keep it?” Evander argued. “Is it not time to let them have the land and be done with it?”

  “You know not what you say and I shall hear no more talk of it,” said Glenna.

  When Glenna ended a conversation, it was truly ended and both Evander and Shaw knew better than to continue on. “’Tis time we see what Hendry has to say so we can have our supper in peace.” She wrapped her thick skirt around her hand, took hold of the handle of the pot, and then moved it away from the flame so the food would not burn while they were gone.

  LIT TORCHES RESTED in four tall holders at the edge of the courtyard in front of the castle cast elongated shadows of the people this way and that. The dogs came too and so did the children, most of whom were fussy and far more interested in getting to their evening meal. The hard work of the day was etched in the soiled clothing and the tired faces of the adults. Those that had not already greeted him were glad to see Shaw up and around, and in return he nodded to each of them.

  Shaw was taken aback by the scant number of people compared to the many not so long ago that filled the entire courtyard. On this day, they barely filled half. Exhausted little ones who once begged to be held by their fathers, turned to mothers instead, who were too tired to oblige them. Even some of the dogs seemed to acutely miss their owners.

  Something more was amiss.

  It was Rhona who broke the awful news. “Conall has passed,” she whispered to Shaw.

  Shaw bowed his head. He was sorry he had not gone to see Conall and now it was too late. He would not make that mistake again and vowed to visit the other two injured men in their beds, the instant Hendry said his piece and let them be. Just now, however, it did not appear that would happen any time soon. Hendry had yet to come out of the castle. The air was unusually calm as the clan waited and waited, but still their laird did not appear. Shaw was about to beg for a chair to sit on when Hendry at last opened the door and came out. He stood on the top of three steps in front of the castle’s outer door and lifted his chin as best he could.

  “He is drunk,” Glenna whispered.

  Shaw took a frustrated breath and nodded.

  Hendry MacGreagor was shorter than most and not nearly as well built, which was something Shaw never paid much attention to before. In fact, he rarely paid attention to Hendry at all. Hendry was indeed drunk, but there was nothing new in that, save for now he did not have to hide it from Jamie. He wore a pointed black goatee, which made him look harsher than most men, especially since his eyes were dark as well.

  “When...” Hendry started. He lifted a flask to his lips and drank before he continued. “I mean to ask...” He took another drink and then belched. “Now that the harvest is in, when shall we have the harvest feast?”

  His question was met with blank stares.

  “I think Sunday shall do very well.” Again, no one said a word. He was not bothered by it, lifted his flask once more, and let the last trickle of ale s
lide down his throat. He tossed the flask away and then folded his arms. It was then that his tone abruptly changed from the pleasant one in the days of Jamie, to the harsh one everyone else knew him capable of. “Did you not hear me?”

  “When shall we be paid?” Innis yelled. For years, Innis helped her mother cook and clean for Jamie and his family, but it was clear from her tone she was not happy to do it for Hendry.

  “Aye,” said one of the men. “Jamie owes me for a leather pouch.”

  “The pouch he took with him to battle?” Hendry dared ask. “Perhaps you might ask for it back.”

  “Perhaps you might do your own cookin’,” Innis shouted.

  “Have I not told you already? Jamie had not the funds to pay his debts and neither do I. The lads are to take my part of the harvest to market, and then I shall pay what Jamie owes.”

  Skye walked up beside Shaw and whispered, “He is lyin’. Jamie would have said, if he had no funds left.”

  “Aye,” Shaw whispered back. Yet, it was possible. After all, Shaw never asked and no one ever said if Jamie had money or not. Jamie asked Bruce to count the pounds needed to send to the king for taxes after the harvest last year, but Bruce said nothing about there being anything left over. Shaw thoughtfully scratched the side of the fuzz that marked the beginning of his first beard.

  “When I see the pay, you shall see...” Hendry was saying.

  “When I see my pay, you shall eat again,” Innis shouted.

  In a completely unexpected move, Hendry said, “Shaw shall see that I am fed. ‘Tis his to see to me now that his brother is dead.”

  Hendry’s unkind mention of Bruce’s death tore at Shaw’s heart, but he said nothing. How Hendry thought Shaw would see to him was perplexing at best, for it was never up to his brother to see that Jamie had enough to eat. Others were whispering and muttering to each other, but Shaw only stared in disbelief at Hendry.

  “Be still now, all of you,” said Hendry. “See that you prepare the harvest feast for Sunday, and see that I am fed or I shall take more than the laird’s share of the harvest.” With that, he tried to turn sharply to go back inside, and nearly fell over. Not one person reached out to steady him, but he managed to get himself settled, went back inside, and shoved both of the huge double doors closed.

  A moment later, everyone turned to look at Shaw.

  Shaw took as deep a breath as his ribs would allow. “I know not what he thinks I can do. Perhaps we should go to our meals, rest this night and talk of it on the morrow. Hendry shall not likely starve to death before then.” Shaw had been on his sore leg far too long, and wanted nothing more than to sit, so he was pleased when the others agreed and began to drift away. Fortunately, the cottage he shared with Glenna was not that far away, and when Skye lifted his arm and put it over her shoulders, he used the cane with his other hand and gladly let her help him limp home.

  At last, he sat in his chair at the table and watched as Glenna moved the pot back over the embers in the hearth. The last of the dried meat from the previous year was all used up and with the hunters gone, the vegetables with a little seasoning for taste would have to do. Just now, Shaw was too tired to care. He hardly noticed when Skye sat in the chair Bruce always called his. When he realized, he resented her for choosing it, but what was the point? It was certainly not her fault Bruce was there no more.

  “What do you mean to do?” Skye asked, “About a cook for Hendry? He threatens to take more than the laird’s share of the harvest if you dinna.”

  “Was it not you who said we have more than we shall need this winter?” Shaw asked.

  “Aye, but that was before I remembered the tithe we give the priests, and now we are left to wonder just how much of the harvest Hendry thinks is his fair share. Jamie always made certain we had enough to eat, but...”

  Shaw was beginning to get a headache. He was relieved when Effie knocked and then came in. She put a loaf of fresh bread on the table and added a bowl of butter.

  “Where did you get that?” a delighted Glenna asked.

  Effie quickly took the seat across from Shaw and took hold of his hand. “Dan is much better and I thank you.” She let go of his hand and answered Glenna’s question. “The lasses agree that some should stay home each day and bake bread for the rest of us. We cannae do what must be done outside and bake at the same time inside. Everyone must have bread.”

  “I think ‘tis a fine idea,” said Glenna.

  “As do I,” Skye agreed.

  Not once had he considered who had time to bake bread and who did not. It made Shaw’s headache increase and he watched as Glenna stirred the pot of food once more. The steam was beginning to fog up the small window panes and soon he would not be able to see out. It did not matter, he supposed. The dogs would alert them if the English were about to attack.

  Glenna tasted the broth, added more salt to her vegetables, and then left the stew to simmer as she joined them at the table. “’Tis winter and with less to do, we shall likely make our own bread. But in spring perhaps the lasses could take turns bakin’.”

  “Aye, until the lasses think the work is unfair,” Effie Scoffed. “Margaret is always complainin’ about nearly everything, but then, she always has.” Effie continued, “The elders say there was a time when everyone simply shared everything, instead of buyin’ and sellin’ at the market.” She paused to think. “I know not what people are sellin’ in town lately. One of us should go see, I suppose.”

  Said Glenna, “Perhaps we should see what is needed first and then what we can sell ourselves. As Skye pointed out, the children shall need shoes.”

  Effie stood up. “Just one more thing.”

  “What?” Shaw asked.

  “Pray that it rains come Sunday – a terrible rain with thunder and lightnin’.”

  For the first time in days, Shaw actually chuckled. “We thank you for the bread and the butter,” he said and truly meant it. Shaw admired Effie’s smile and watched as she went out and then closed the door behind her.

  “Never have I seen her so happy,” said Glenna.

  “Nor I,” Skye agreed. “She is quite envied already for having a husband when so many do not. I suppose there is little gettin’ over that sort of envy until time passes and there are more men to marry. From where do we get more men is what worries me, not that my mother is inclined to marry again soon. She misses my father more...”

  Glenna quickly changed the subject. “And what would you know about envy? You are but a wee lassie yourself.”

  “I have known envy all my life. We are old friends, envy and me.” Skye barely took a breath before she continued, “Can you believe it? Our lads are not yet cold in their graves and Hendry wants a feast?” She bit her lower lips as tears came to her eyes.

  “What’s this?” Shaw asked. “Our Skye has become downhearted? Do you not know you are the sunshine on a gloomy day for us all?”

  “Am I?” she asked as she brightened right up. “Very well then, I promise to always shine, especially for you.”

  As soon as she was out the door too, Shaw laid his head on the table and closed his eyes. “How are we ever to get on without Bruce?”

  Glenna stirred the stew once more, came back to the table, picked up a knife, and began to cut the loaf of bread. She buttered a slice and held it out to him. “Eat, grow tall and strong, and know that you are wiser than you think.”

  He finally lifted his head, but instead of taking the bread, he gently cupped his hand around the side of her face. “Dinna ever leave me, wee love. I need you. We all need you.”

  WHEN SHAW STEPPED OUTSIDE the next day, he was greeted by sunshine, a warm breeze, and Evander holding the reins to both his horse and the black stallion Shaw always rode.

  “Are you well enough to go for a ride?”

  “Aye, if you will help me up,” Shaw answered as he lay his cane on the ground. He preferred riding bareback, but just now mounting a horse without a saddle looked next to impossible. Fortunately, his fri
end was happy to accommodate him.

  Evander laced his fingers together, let Shaw use his hands as a stirrup, and then hoisted his friend up. Next, he picked up the cane and handed it to Shaw. “You might need this later.”

  Shaw’s ribs still hurt, but he was getting better at ignoring the pain. “Where are we goin’?”

  “To the loch and beyond. We are sent to count the livestock.”

  Shaw did not like the sound of that. “Sent?”

  Evander mounted his own horse and then started them down the path to the loch. “Never have I known you to ask such a foolish question.”

  It was a foolish question, Shaw realized, for who else in the clan thought he had the authority to send anyone anywhere? “What does Hendry want with me?”

  “He wishes to know how wealthy he is about to become, and you count as well as your brother.”

  Shaw scoffed. “I am cursed. We should send for Lucus to lead us.”

  “Jamie’s brother has enough to fret over. They had but a few months to get settled before winter, and I pray they have managed it. If I was to say, which I did not, I would have said ‘tis unseemly for the clan to separate. ‘Tis too late now.”

  “Far too late. I thought it a wise move,” said Shaw, “on the part of those who went with Lucus. They are as fond as we of eatin’.”

  “Aye, and I fret over that as well. Suppose they have not enough food, come back and Hendry has sold more than his share of ours. Suppose we have not enough to give?”

  Shaw followed Evander’s horse up the slow incline of a hill. When they reached the top, Evander halted his horse and turned it around, so Shaw did the same and then asked, “Why are we stoppin’?”

  “Just look at it, Shaw. This is our home, the home of our fathers and their fathers before them. We never knew a laird to take more than his fair share. In fact, Jamie took only enough to pay his taxes to the king.”

  “Then Hendry is right. Jamie left no pay for his debts?”

  Evander was surprised. “You believe Hendry? Did Jamie not pay his debts last month and all the months before that?”