Highland Intrigue (Duncurra Book Book 3) (9 page)

“Ye look angry.” For a moment, lost in his thought, Fingal had forgotten Ailsa still stood there.

“Nay, Ailsa, I’m not angry. I was just a bit worried earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I found out that Gillian and yer mum left Brathanead with no one to guard them.”

Ailsa made a snorting sound. “They don’t need guards.”

He smiled at her. “Aye, they do. And ye do too, Ailsa. I don’t want ye to leave the walls of Brathanead without a guardsman.”

“Me?” she asked incredulously. “Why do I need a guard? That’s silly.”

“Nay, sweetling, it isn’t. Someone who might want to hurt our clan could do that by capturing ye and holding ye for ransom.”

“Me?” Ailsa laughed. “Ye worry too much. No one would want me. I’m not important.”

“Nay Ailsa, ye are very important. Ye are Ailsa MacLennan. Besides that ye are also Gillian’s sister, which make ye my sister now.”

Ailsa’s brow furrowed. “Do ye really think it could be dangerous to go to the village alone?”

Fingal ruffled her curls. “I doubt it sweetling, but I don’t want to take even the slightest risk with ye. Do ye understand?”

She grinned broadly. “Aye, I suppose I do. I’m important and ye want to protect me.”

Fingal laughed. “Exactly.”

Ailsa threw her arms around him tightly for a moment before letting go. “Thank ye.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I like that ye are worried about us. It is a little like having Da back.”

The thought was sobering. “I will do my best to keep ye safe, Ailsa. I promise.”

Ailsa looked at him for a moment, as if sizing him up. “Gillian didn’t want to marry ye.”

“Nay, she didn’t.”

“I like ye.”

He grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.” He wished her sister were this easy to win over.

“I think Gillian would like ye if she gave ye a chance.”

“Ye needn’t worry about it, Ailsa. It will all work out. We just need to give it time.”

“Time’s all right, but a puppy is better.”

Fingal laughed. “What?”

“Ye want to make Gillian happy so she will like ye, right?”

“Sweetling, I—”

“Give her a puppy. She loves dogs. I do too. We have always wanted a pet and Mama wouldn’t let us have one.”

“Is this a ploy like the honey cakes? So ye can have a puppy?”

Much to his surprise, Ailsa grinned. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t mean it won’t make Gillian happy too.” Gillian entered the hall again, wearing dry clothes. “Shh. Don’t tell her I told ye. We’ll let her think ye thought of it on yer own.”

“Ailsa, I don’t think—”

“Shh.” Ailsa turned away, walking to meet her sister. “Let’s go see if Jeanne will make the laird some honey cakes.”

Gillian shook her head. “Ailsa, ye are incorrigible.”

Fingal just laughed.

Fingal spent yet another restless night sleeping chastely next to the beautiful young woman who he had married but who professed to hate him. They had been married over a week now and no matter how gently he wooed her, she showed no signs of relenting. Aye, she had fulfilled her end of the bargain. She appeared united with him in front of the clan. She accepted his leadership of the clan and publically supported his decisions. However, every night she fell asleep curled up as far away from him in the bed as possible. And every morning he awoke with her lush warm body snuggled next to him. This was a torture that he wasn’t sure he could stand for long. Still, she continued to be inordinately flustered by his slightest touch, so he held out hope that her attitude would soften.

Sighing, Fingal rose from the bed as quietly as he could in the predawn gloom, leaving Gillian to sleep. There was an endless amount of work that needed to be done to bring Brathanead’s defenses up to an acceptable standard. Furthermore, his brother would be leaving early this morning. Fingal needed to see him off.

Gillian stirred as he dressed. “Fingal?”

“I’m here, Gillian. Go back to sleep for a bit.” She too had been working tirelessly and could use a little extra rest.”

She woke more fully. “Nay, I have too much to do to sleep the day away. Besides, Niall is leaving this morning is he not?”

“Aye, but he would understand.”

“He would think me lazy, rude, and unfit to be Lady MacLennan if I stayed abed instead of seeing visitors off.”

“Nay, he wouldn’t Gillian, but suit yerself. I will go down to the great hall and give ye a few minutes of privacy.”

She joined him moments later. After attending morning Mass, they bid Niall farewell together before heading their separate ways to start their daily work as had become their pattern. One of the most pressing needs was the training of Brathanead’s warriors. Clearly Malcolm had not put as much effort into this as he should have but that would change. However, another serious problem was the condition of Brathanead’s curtain wall. It wasn’t terribly large—most of the village lay outside the walls. Even so, it had fallen into disrepair and was critically weak in spots.

Unfortunately, it took men to rebuild the wall and if they were rebuilding a wall they were not training to improve their skills. Fingal had divided them into two divisions, one led by Diarmad and the other by Eadoin. They alternated between training and working on repairs.

He ensured that Diarmad had training well underway today before joining Eadoin where his men worked on the southwestern side of the wall. “How are the repairs coming?”

Eadoin shook his head. “Things are worse in this section than we imagined. Rory here has some experience with masonry. He has something to show us.”

“Aye, Laird, have a look here at this.” The older man reached forward and with just his finger was able to brush the mortar from between the stones. “The winds blow hard from the southwest much of the year. The rain and snow driven by the winds has broken down the lime mortar. Where that is the only problem, the loose mortar can be scraped out and patched to shore up the loose stones. However, in this part of the wall there are other problems. In most places the top of the wall is pitched to allow water to run off, but here the pitch was off and the top was a bit more level. In fact, between the effects of weather and years of sentries’ footsteps, there is no pitch left at all. It has allowed water to pool and penetrate into the heart of the wall. The effect of the water freezing and thawing within the wall has only made the problem worse. As we scrape out the old mortar, we just find more problems the deeper we go. I think it may be too far gone here to simply repair the damage on the surface.”

Eadoin looked shocked. “I had no idea it was that bad.”

“None of us did, Eadoin. Ye expect the surface mortar to break down over years, but none of us knew the heart of the wall was deteriorating too. Honestly, based on the damage we are finding, I think it would take very little force to break through this part of the wall. It’s the reason so many stones have fallen along this side.”

Fingal stepped forward to examine the wall. The mortar crumbled under his touch and he was able to feel slight movement in some of the stones. He turned back to Eadoin and Rory. “So, if ye can’t repair the mortar, what do ye suggest?”

“I think the best thing to do at this point is tear down the sections where the worst damage is and rebuild them.”

Eadoin frowned. “That will leave us very vulnerable, Rory.”

“I know that, but I don’t see a better way.”

“How quickly could it be done?” Fingal asked.

“Well, it might take weeks, Laird, but we could work in sections so the whole southern wall isn’t torn down at once.”

“If it were only small sections of the wall down at a time, we could create a moveable wooden stockade that might offer some protection,” reasoned Fingal.

“And post a heavier guard as an additional precaution,” added Eadoin.

Just then, as if fate stepped in to illustrate the abysmal condition of the wall, a heavy stone came crashing down from the top. Eadoin yelled “Laird!” diving toward Fingal, pushing him out of the way. The stone barely missed them both. Eadoin shouted up at the men on the wall, “what in the hell are ye doing?”

“We were loosening the top stones to replace them, as Rory said to,” called Coby from the top of the wall. “I’m sorry Eadoin, we didn’t know ye were down there.”

“For the love of God, watch what ye are doing,” Eadoin admonished. “Ye can’t just let rocks fall without a care for what is on the ground below. Ye could have killed us.”

“Aye, sir, we’ll be more careful.”

Fingal sighed heavily. “I guess this is all the evidence I need that the wall is not only insufficient to protect us, but is dangerously unstable. Aye, Rory, tear down what ye need to in order to make it strong and safe. How long do ye think it will take?”

“At the rate we are going, months.”

Fingal knew that wouldn’t be sufficient. He had hoped by dividing the men’s time between training and rebuilding, he could address both of the clan’s most pressing needs. However, the winter weather itself provided some measure of protection for the clan. Anyone who might seek to lay siege or attempt to overrun Brathanead was not likely to do it in the dead of winter. “We need to have this wall repaired by Easter or shortly thereafter. Otherwise we present too tempting a target.”

Eadoin frowned. “But Laird, Easter is but a month away. It will take all of our men working on the wall to finish it by then. Ye said yerself the skill of the MacLennan warriors is lacking. If ye think we are a target, don’t we need well-trained warriors who can defend us?”

“Aye we do, but even the best trained warriors will have trouble defending Brathanead with the wall crumbling. I think we need to focus our efforts on the repairs while the weather keeps the Grants or any other potential aggressors close to their hearths. For now the men will train for a half day every other day, and the rest of their time will be spent rebuilding. Rory, will that give ye enough men to finish this by Easter?”

“Aye, Laird. I think we can have the worst of it rebuilt by then.”

“Eadoin, do ye agree?” Fingal asked. “I can’t see a better way forward, but if ye have any thoughts on it, I am happy to hear them.”

“Ye are right. The wall must be the priority now. Have ye considered bringing in some men from other clans to bolster our ranks?”

“As ye are aware, Niall left a very large contingent of MacIan men with us, but he was only able to do this because Lairds Matheson and MacKenzie sent men to Duncurra in their place.”

“Given that our threat comes primarily from the Grants and Laird Chisholm is also plagued by them, perhaps he would lend some aid?”

“Perhaps, Eadoin, but our resources are stretched as it is. I don’t know if we could feed any more mouths, much less offer compensation for their service.”

Eadoin squared his shoulders with resolve. “Then Laird, we will have to make this work.”

~ * ~

At the evening meal Fingal discussed the changes in plans with Diarmad too.

“That is distressing news, Laird. I had hoped to use the next few months for training to bring the MacLennan warriors’ skills up.” Diarmad lowered his voice. “Too many of their most seasoned warriors were killed at Duncurra last year.”

Fingal glanced at Gillian. Her furrowed brow told him she had heard Diarmad’s observation. He hated to remind her of her loss.

“Fingal, maybe so many would not have lost their lives if they had been better prepared,” she observed. “Surely repairs to the wall can be accomplished over time. How can ye take men away from training?”

“I agree we need to ensure that the men are trained, Gillian, but the wall can’t be ignored.”

“Surely well-trained warriors are more important to our defense than patching mortar.” There was an irritable edge to her voice.

“Sadly, it isn’t just a case of patching mortar—”

She cut Fingal off before he could finish. “That wall has stood for decades. It will stand a few months longer. I think ye should focus on training the men.”

Fingal did not want to argue with her publicly but before he could say anything, Daniel cut in. “Gillian, this is not yer concern and ye have no place questioning the laird in these matters.”

She looked as if he had slapped her. Fingal covered her hand with his. “Nay Daniel, she loves this clan and I understand her concern. Gillian, I agree that we need a well-trained garrison but we also need a strong defensive curtain wall. I know it has stood for decades. However, there are places where the wall has been so damaged by the elements it is ready to tumble down.”

At her look of disbelief Eadoin added, “Aye, ’tis true. Water has damaged parts of the southwestern side of the wall so severely that it could crumble without the aid of a battering ram. In fact it is crumbling now. A stone fell from the wall where the men were working today and barely missed the laird.”

She turned her head sharply to look at Fingal. “Is that true? Were ye injured?”

“It is true but thanks to Eadoin’s quick reflexes I wasn’t injured. Unfortunately though, parts of the curtain wall are hazardous and can’t be ignored. It is best to tear them down and rebuild now, during the remaining weeks of winter.”

Gillian nodded, but still looked worried. Fingal tried to reassure her. “Gillian, the men will continue to train some while we are repairing the wall. I won’t overlook that. I promised that I would help make Clan MacLennan strong again, and I will.”