Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (9 page)

Maryn turned and ran toward the entry as if the hounds of hell were on her heels, wailing in abject misery. “I’m sorry!” she cried as she ran past her victim, dropping the largesse at his feet.

Poor wee thing, Daniel thought. She’d had her feelings soundly crushed, and in front of witnesses. And ‘twas obvious from Angus’s expression that he was feeling bad for the bairn as well.

Fergus jabbed his finger firmly into his friend’s chest. “You’re a meanspirited, hard-hearted father to punish such a sweet, timid wee lass so harshly.”

Daniel and Angus looked at each other in amused disbelief.
Sweet?
Timid?

Laird Donald took his friend’s rebuke in stride. “Now, Fergus, you know Maryn well and she’s anything but timid. Tho’, aye, she does possess an extremely tender heart.” When his friend continued to glare at him, he sighed and said, “You may rest assured that I shall be visiting with her soon to soothe her hurt feelings, I mean only to allow her some time to contemplate her transgression before I do so.”

Fergus relaxed his stance and nodded. “Good. She’s a sweet lass,” he said again.

Settling back down at the table, Laird Donald motioned for the others to do the same. He offered Angus recompense for his purloined cache, but Angus declined, saying the bairn’s confession of remorse was sufficient reparation. They spent the remainder of the day in conference, each speaking of general clan business and sharing ideas and innovations they had discovered in fortifying their keeps and in enhancing their defense techniques.

*

As Daniel walked towards the stables the next morn he heard a commotion coming from just inside the walls of the fortress indicating that his grandmother had arrived. He changed course and walked in the direction of the gatehouse instead. His grandfather and Laird Donald were already in attendance, he noticed as he made his way over to the new arrivals. They were standing to the side as a rather round lady was being helped to dismount.

She had thick black hair with streaks of gray running through it and the rosiest cheeks Daniel had ever seen. And she was taller than her husband, he saw, as his grandfather took his wife in his arms, resting his cheek above her generous bosom for a moment.

When his grandfather released the lady at last, she lifted her gaze to Daniel’s. With a jolt, he saw that one eye was blue and the other green. Some thought ‘twas the mark of a witch, but he would not believe such. Nay, he would not. For, in those unusual orbs, only warmth and, surprisingly, love, were reflected.

He walked over to her and bowed his head in deference to her position and age. She was even taller than she looked from a distance, he was astonished to discover, the top of her head mere inches below his own.

She reached out and stroked Daniel’s hair away from his forehead and then lifted his face for her inspection with her soft hand under his chin. With a robust voice full of merriment and eyes that sparkled with mirth, she said, “I have been waiting lo these many years to at last meet you, grandson. You are as handsomely made as your mother, I see. But you have my dear husband’s coloring, and that pleases me greatly.” Placing her hand at his elbow, she continued, “Come, let us go inside and sit by the fire as we get to know each other. My old bones are weary and the chill has gone right through them.”

Unnerved by her gentle nature, Daniel blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You remind me of her—my mother, I mean. She was as lively and delighted by life as you seem to be.” A hot flush traveled up his neck and over his cheeks.

Lady Maclean patted his arm. “I take that as the highest praise, lad. I loved your mother dearly. As I love you.”

A bright feeling of joy spread through Daniel and he smiled. For the loneliness he had been feeling since the deaths of his mother and grandfather had fallen away with the irresistible pull of his grandmother’s affection. ‘Twas truth, even his burdens felt lighter now.

*

She came, she saw, she conquered. ‘Twas over in the blink of an eye and Daniel had not been this happy about the future in much too long a time. He and his grandmother had settled by the fire and spoken for hours this day past. His grandfather had left them to themselves for much of the day, allowing his wife to have their grandson’s undivided attention. Late in the eve he had at last joined them and it had been almost like the old days for Daniel, when he, his mother and her father would gather ‘round the hearth and speak of the day’s happenings. Angus and Laird Donald were invited into the circle later that night and ‘twas the wee hours of the morn before any of them found their beds.

Now, as Daniel prepared to leave the Donald holding. He said his goodbyes to his newly acknowledged grandparents and promised to send tidings through Laird Donald or through their mutual allies, the MacGregors. Because the MacLaurin clan elders were against an alliance with the Macleans, he would not be seeing his grandparents again, he knew, for many years. If at all.

Lady Maclean enveloped her grandson in her arms, pressing him into her pillowy bosom.

Daniel’s heart expanded even further with the love and trust he’d begun to feel for her almost from the moment of their first meeting this day past. Of their own volition, his arms lifted to embrace her as well. Before he could stop himself, he squeezed a little squeal out of her.

“Be careful with my wife, you young buck!” his grandfather laughingly chided. But clearly, not to be denied, he pounded Daniel heartily on the back. “Be on your guard against freebooters on your journey back, grandson,” he warned. “And give me your promise that you will not hesitate to send word to me if ever you have a need for an allied force. The MacLaurins may not accept the Macleans, but we are your allies, nonetheless.”

Daniel solemnly nodded, “Aye, I promise.” He turned to Laird Donald, saying, “My thanks for your hospitality and friendship.”

“‘Twas my pleasure, lad,” Laird Donald replied, gripping his young guest’s shoulder in affection.

Daniel left the hall, glad for a moment alone to regain his composure. He’d told his grandparents that he wished not to say his farewells in the open bailey, and they had respected his wishes. He walked over to the stables to retrieve his mount. Angus was already there, in deep conversation with the marshal, so Daniel did not interrupt.

Deciding to wait for Angus by the gate, Daniel led his horse in that direction. He was halfway across the courtyard when the grating sound of a bairn’s sing-song voice, too near him for comfort, broke through his thoughts. The hairs on the back of neck stood on end. Damn! He’d hoped to get away without encountering the lass again. With some trepidation, he turned and looked in the direction of the sound. Smiling, he shook his head in amazement. The devil-child was carting a cat dressed in diminutive funeral robes inside a small wain. Its tail whacking against the side of the wagon, the cat looked angry as hell but resigned to its fate. Surprisingly, the animal was not even attempting to tear its way out of the outrageous costume.

What a morbid imagination the wee one had! And the poor cat must have the patience of Job. The bairn and her irate cargo were still several yards away, so Daniel quickly turned and busied himself with his horse, in the hope that the imp would pass him by without talking to him. He was relieved when his ploy worked and she did not stop to speak with him.

*

“I just saw Laird Donald’s unruly bairn, but I managed to avoid her,” Daniel told Angus when the older man finally met him in the courtyard a few minutes later.

“Aye,” Angus replied, “I heard her high, squeaking voice and hid inside the stables until she’d passed me by.”

Daniel laughed. “Coward!”

“And you are not?” Angus replied, laughing as well.

“Did you see what the hellion was hauling in her cart?”

“Nay,” Angus replied, but then quickly checked his stash of apples. Finding them, he said, “What was she hauling, horse droppings?”

Daniel chuckled at the other man’s sarcasm. “Nay, she had some unfortunate cat dressed in funeral garb.”

Angus shook his head and chuckled as he mounted his steed. “Lord, that lass is a handful.”

As the two men went under the archway of the portcullis, Daniel said, “Aye, she’ll be the bane of some poor husband’s existence one day, I trow.”

The Wedding

“Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts”

King Henry the Sixth, Part III (Act IV, Scene vi)

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Act I, Scene i)

The Highlands, Scotland 1204

The MacLaurin castle was enveloped in the gray mist of morn, rising high on the heath-covered hill. Maryn could hear the distant clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer and barely-audible voices as she and her father picked their way up the steep incline leading to the gatehouse entry.

“Aye, this be as fine a fortress as the lad said ‘twould be someday. Fergus, God rest his soul, told me his grandson spent these years building its defenses using the skill of some of the finest craftsmen.”

‘Tis massive, Maryn mused. She wondered how many people lived behind its walls. ‘Twas larger than the Maclean holding, and that one was three times the size of their own fortress. She tried to envision what it must have looked like after the massacre, but could not.

“You said the older man, Angus, died two years past? That must have been painful for Laird MacLaurin. Was he not the MacLaurin’s mentor and friend?” Maryn asked.

“Aye, he died of a lung fever. I heard the lad was desolate for quite a time afterward. I know not how he fares now, but we are bound to see for ourselves in only a short time.”

She had a vague memory of meeting Laird MacLaurin as a bairn, but the memories were interwoven with the fantastical bible story of David and Goliath she had loved so well at that time. She was having trouble separating truth from myth where the MacLaurin was concerned, and ‘twas an added disturbance to her already frayed nerves to know of the barbaric violence that made up his early years.

“Papa, I think this scheme of yours will surely go awry. For, why would a man of Laird MacLaurin’s wealth and renown marry a lass such as me? I can bring naught to this union; no wealth, no important alliances—and I certainly am not known for my courtly refinement.” Her heart pounded in her chest as panic gripped her. She couldn’t take in a breath. Her hands felt clammy inside her gloves.
Oh, God.
There was little doubt that this man would not only be appalled by her rural ways, but look upon her with only contempt once the truth of their need for this marriage was made known to him.

Laird Donald patted his daughter’s knee. “You are as lovely and gentle a lass as the Highlands has ever borne—you must not worry on that score.” Straightening in his saddle, he continued, “And ease yourself over the whys and wherefores regarding the rest, daughter. Leave the details to me. I’ve a strong suspicion that you shall be Lady MacLaurin by nightfall, my dove.”

As they moved closer to the gatehouse, the drawbridge began to lower and the portcullis began to rise.

“Ah, I see the Maclean’s missive arrived. We are expected, and glad I am of that,” Laird Donald said.

A stableman awaited them in the courtyard. The sturdy lad moved toward Maryn and attempted to help her dismount. “Nay, lad, I must take care of my mare myself. She’s quite particular and wants only me to tend her.”

“But m’lady—”

“Ease yourself. Show me the way to the stables and all will be well. I shall explain the predicament to your marshal, fear you not.”

“Aye, m’lady,” the lad replied and began leading the two travelers towards the stables.

*

Neither guest was aware of Daniel’s presence as he stood watching the exchange a few yards away. Laird Donald’s daughter was so covered up, he could not see more than an outline of her face. But he liked her voice; ‘twas low and mellow. He wondered what other changes he’d find in the impish bairn he remembered. An image of an older version of the filth-covered lass came to mind—but with a much larger slingshot. He chuckled and shook his head. God’s truth, ‘twould be dreadful!