Highland Master (3 page)

“There is one thing ye could do if ye think I am nay as safe as I should be here.”

“And what is that?” asked Brett, not trusting the sweet smile she gave him.

“See if ye can give those poor lads out there a little skill. The men who went to France clearly didnae train anyone to take their place.”

“That is true enough,” muttered Callum. “I havenae seen such lack of skill in a verra long time, leastwise nay in the men who should be guarding the gates.”

They all fell silent when Nessa and two young girls came to clear away the remains of the meal and set out fruit and tarts for them to enjoy. Again, unlike the older Nessa, the young girls revealed their lack of training, being hesitant and just a little awkward. Brett decided that the fever Arianna had spoken of had taken a great toll amongst the ones who served in the manor.

“Are ye certain the fever has left the area?” he asked the moment they were alone again.

“Aye,” replied Arianna as she cut up an apple. “I spoke of worrying about my child, and Mary was very concerned but assured me that no one has had e’en the smallest of illnesses since the last one died of the fever. It took people quickly and viciously, from all she said. Came into the village and the manor and cut them down and was gone within a fortnight, only the still sick and dying left behind. She said it also hit Gormfeurach, the land to the west. Poor child lost two sisters and her mother. That all happened about two years ago.”

“I have heard of such things, but such a fierce, quick, deadly illness is often found in cities or within the ranks of an army. ’Tis odd to hear of one out here where there are nay a lot of people crowded together.”

“Mary told me that Nessa thinks it came through with some drovers. After they recovered, a few men found new graves a few miles down along the drovers’ route. She also recalls that one of the men didnae look verra hale, but the men came and went so quickly none thought of it until the first one of their own fell ill.”

“They must have stopped at the other keep as weel then.”

“Or someone from Banuilt passed it on, because Mary said the two wee clans were verra close until recently.”

“Ah, something to look into. It may be just that the people at Gormfeurach blame the people here for the sickness, but there could be more to it.”

“There may be, for I think Mary would have said if it was just blame for the fever. After all, it could just as easily have been someone from Gormfeurach who passed it to the drovers or one of the people here.” Arianna glanced toward the doors of the great hall and smiled when Triona stepped into the room a heartbeat later. “Just in time for the sweet, Cousin.”

“I am sorry I left ye to yourselves like that, but Ella isnae used to our having guests, and it may take her time to understand that she will have to wait for some things,” said Triona as she sat down next to Arianna. “I did just explain it to her, but I am nay sure she is old enough to grasp that truth yet. There is also the chance she just may nay wish to grasp it, either.”

“Weel, we dinnae mind if ye have to leave to tend to your child from time to time. Ye must nay think that ye have to be at our beck and call. I have imposed my company”—she nodded at the men—“and theirs, upon ye without invitation. I apologize for that.”

“Nay need. I fear I have nay thought to invite anyone since my husband died, and in truth, he didnae invite many here before that. He preferred to go to them.” He had also preferred her not to mingle with them much at all, but her cousin did not need to know that.

“Weel, allow me to tell ye all the news I have then, as it appears ye dinnae get verra much out here.”

Triona poured herself some cider and listened raptly as Arianna told her about France and Scarglas. The tales of the MacFingals, ones the men occasionally added to also, had her both amused and amazed. Arianna had married into a very large and strange family, yet she could hear the affection for them all in her cousin’s voice.

A part of her was jealous of all her cousin had done, and even more jealous of how she had found herself part of such a large, loving family. Triona recognized her jealousy but found no rancor in it, just an understandable envy. She had never had such things but had always wanted them. An equal part of her was happy for Arianna because, despite her anger at her husband, Triona could hear the love she had for the man every time she spoke of him.

When Arianna admitted to being tired and needing to seek her bed, Triona also excused herself. She wanted to stay and speak with the men, her mind eager for any conversation that did not have to do with breeding stock or planting fields, but did not yet feel comfortable enough with them to linger without Arianna there as well. Although she was accustomed to dealing with men, they were men-at-arms, farmers, and other villagers. The men who had come with Arianna were knights and men of the world. In some ways she was intimidated by them, by their greater knowledge of the world outside the boundaries of Banuilt.

Alone in her bedchamber, she dressed for bed and banked the fire. A small part of her missed Boyd, but only because she now felt as if all the weight of Banuilt rested on her shoulders, and she could have done with his sharing at least the small part of it that he had when he was alive. The fact that she did not miss him in any other way struck her as very sad. It should not be that way, and yet she knew he would not have missed her all that much if she had been the one taken by the fever. He would have found another wife with a good dower so that he could have continued to make Banuilt—once little more than a peel tower and grazing land—into a grand fortress.

Triona wondered what it would be like to love a man as she knew her cousin loved her husband. By the way Arianna and the others talked, that love was returned, and the man would soon come hunting for his wife. They had implied that, even if Sir Brian MacFingal had thought to allow his errant wife to stew in her own anger for a while, his clan would push him to go to her, for they would not wish the man to risk losing her. She envied her cousin that, and hoped the woman knew how very fortunate she was.

It did puzzle her that Arianna was so close to her cousins, because when they were younger, she had gotten the feeling that Arianna’s parents, though loving, had not often mixed with the very large Murray clan. More than Triona’s had, yet there had been expectations placed on Arianna that, from all her grandmother had told her, would never have been placed upon other women in the Murray clan. Arianna had never complained, however, and Triona had known even back then that her cousin was far luckier in her family than she was.

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. There was a lot she did not have, but she knew she had more than most. It was not good to envy what others had, especially if there was little chance that one would ever gain that for oneself. That way led to a poisoning in the heart and mind. Triona knew she would never have what Arianna did, and would have to accept that sad truth. Her own family had sent her off to her aging husband and had never once checked to see if she was happy to go or even happy to stay. They had seen her marriage as an advantageous one, a connection that would aid her brother in gaining some much needed influence with people who could get him into the king’s court and rid them of a lass who would only have been a burden to them as she aged.

“I have friends,” she whispered. “I have Ella and I have Banuilt. I have a great deal to be grateful for. I have food enough to keep from starving, a roof o’er my head, and clothes on my back. I have a nice soft bed to curl up in when I need to rest, and women to help me with all the work that needs to be done about here. I am a verra fortunate lass and must cease craving what I cannae have.”

Triona nodded. It always helped to remind herself of all she did have, things many another woman would kill to have. Life was not perfect, and she doubted she would ever completely cease to wish for something just a little different, but most of the time she was content with her life. In many ways she had the large family she had always craved. She had all the people of Banuilt.

When thoughts of a man with dark green eyes crept into her mind, she frowned. She did not need a man, she thought crossly, but that did little to push away the image in her mind or the way her heartbeat quickened as she thought of Sir Brett Murray. He was too handsome for his own good, but that did not stop her from appreciating his fine looks, as far too many women undoubtedly did. Neither did reminding herself that she was no beauty, and she suspected he was a man who was all too well acquainted with many beautiful women.

Cursing softly, she sat up and then moved to get a drink of cider. She was too old to be infatuated with some man just because he looked so good. Appreciating his beauty, his strength and manly grace, was acceptable, but letting him invade her thoughts to the point that he disturbed her rest was not. Her marriage had taught her that one did not get much benefit from having a husband. Hers certainly had not made her feel much less alone than she had growing up in her family’s unloving home.

Once back in bed, she closed her eyes, determined to clear her mind and get the rest she needed. She growled when she had the sudden thought that Sir Brett would probably give a woman many children, all strong and handsome. He might also cause her to enjoy the making of those children. Triona flopped onto her back and glared up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night, she decided.

Even as she finally managed to relax enough to reach for sleep, the alarum was rung and Angus burst into her room screaming, “Fire in the blue field!”

Brett studied the charred ground in the far corner of the field. It had not taken them long to put out the fire, despite the plentiful fuel for it to feed upon. What truly roused his curiosity was why, if the fire was meant to destroy the whole field of crops, had it been set in a place so easily seen from the walls of Banuilt? Not only that, but it had been set in a place easily reached, where there was little risk of many feet and a cart crossing the field and damaging the crop. It was possible that the men who had set the fire were simply witless fools, but he had some strong doubts about that. It was hard to believe any men could be quite that witless.

He looked at Triona, who stood by his side. It troubled him that he had such a fierce urge to brush the loose strands of hair from her face, and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he fought it. Despite what his family thought, he had turned away from women. If they ever uncovered that truth, a lot of questions would be asked, and he had no wish to explain why he allowed everyone to think him such a dissolute man when he was far from it. He did, however, need to remind himself of those reasons when he was near Triona.

“Why is the field called the blue field?” he asked, praying that talking to her about the trouble they had just dealt with would distract him from his growing attraction to her.

“Naming the field makes it quicker for everyone to ken which one we must all rush to,” replied Triona.

“And ye all have to rush off to tend to a field often, do ye?”

Triona sighed. She was so tired. The first troubles had begun only a fortnight after the well-trained men who had survived the fever had sailed away to France to seek their fortunes fighting for whoever offered them the most coin. Over the following nearly two years there had been few times when it had been peaceful at Banuilt. The people here spent far too much of their time repairing damage and not nearly enough building up Banuilt. She feared they now took more steps back than they did forward, and their lives would never return to the more profitable and plentiful ones they had all enjoyed before the fever had so devastated their people.

“Too often. I will just see to the placing of a few men to guard the field and make very certain the fire is truly out and we can return to the great hall. I can answer any questions ye may have then.”

Brett watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her gently rounded hips for a moment. Underneath her somewhat plain gowns there were obviously curves enough to hold a man’s interest. Then he quickly forced his errant thoughts back to the problem at hand. He had a lot of questions about what was going on at Banuilt but wondered how fully she would answer them. His greatest concern was for Arianna. He did not like to think he had placed his cousin in the midst of a very dangerous situation.

“Ye were right,” said Callum as he walked up to stand next to Brett.

“Of course I was. I usually am.” He grinned at the disgusted look Callum gave him. “What was I right about this time?”

“That something is badly amiss at Banuilt.”

“I believe we all agreed on that, and I also believe that I told ye Harcourt was the one to speak that thought aloud first.”

“No need to give the mon anything else to be vain about.”

“Of course not. Did anyone happen to mention exactly what is wrong here? For this”—Brett waved his hand in the direction of the burned ground—“badly done as it was, wasnae caused by any simple mischief or accident.”

“A few started to say something but stopped ere I could hear anything of any worth. I do believe the wee lass has an enemy or an angry, rejected suitor. All I did catch word of was that she should either kill him or marry him.”

“This seems to be more the act of an enemy than some angry lover.” And the idea of Triona having a lover burned in his belly, much to his dismay.

“’Tis a strange wooing, aye,” agreed Callum. “Unless ye are trying to ensure that she cannae survive or care for the people who depend upon her without the help of some mon to rule o’er it all.”

“Ah, of course. He isnae doing a verra good job of it, if that is his plan.”

“Weel, ye dinnae want to leave yourself naught but a smoldering ruin when ye finally gain your prize, now do ye. It may be, too, that the ones he is sending to do this dinnae really want to, and so they fail.”

A grunt of agreement was all that Brett could manage in response. His mind was already crowded with questions he needed answered. If there was any real danger to Arianna, he would have to get her away from here as quickly as possible, no matter how much he suddenly wanted to help Triona, who had looked so sad and weary. Arianna was not only his kinswoman who was with child, but she was now a MacFingal. That was not a clan his family wanted a feud with. In truth, he would be willing to risk angering the MacFingals, would even accept a small risk to Arianna, to help the people of Banuilt, for he believed they were in a fight for their very survival. What he would never do, however, was risk the child Arianna carried.

There was serious trouble brewing at Banuilt, of that he no longer had any doubt, but he could not even begin to guess what kind it was. It had also been going on long enough for the people here to become very well organized in fighting it. He had rushed out of the manor at the first ring of the alarum to find a cart with barrels of water already having its team hitched to it, and men dressed and racing off toward the fields. It had all been done quickly, without hesitation, and with no sign of panic. This had happened to them before, many times, and it was obvious that, in this, they were all very well trained.

When Triona walked past them, signaling that they follow her back to the manor, he and his men did so silently. Brett could tell by the looks upon the faces of his companions that their concerns matched his. What had been idle speculation over the oddities they had noticed only a few hours ago was now a certainty. Something was very wrong at Banuilt.

 

 

Triona ordered some ale, cider, and wine to be set out for the men and then hurried off to her bedchamber to wash away the soot on her hands. There was little she could do to be rid of the smell of smoke that clung to her clothes and hair. She doubted the five men waiting for her to explain what was happening would be pleased to wait while she bathed and changed her clothes. They were concerned for what they may have just brought their kinswoman into the middle of.

After taking a quick peek at herself in the looking glass her late husband had given her as a wedding gift, Triona made her way back down to the great hall. She knew her reluctance to tell Sir Brett and the others the ugly truth about life at Banuilt was due less to how it might bruise her pride by making her look like a weak laird, and far more to do with how they might decide to take Arianna and leave. It definitely did sting her pride to admit, even if only to herself, but five skilled knights were sorely needed, and it would be a hard loss if they rode away.

“’Tis your trouble to deal with, Triona,” she softly scolded herself. “Nay theirs.”

As she entered the great hall, the first thing she noticed was the vast amount of food and drink her women had set out for the men. She would have to speak to the women, for if they continued to offer their guests such bounty, the larder would swiftly be emptied. Triona doubted the others returning from the field would be offered such a feast. It was not that long since they had had a meal, and it was a bit early to be breaking their fast.

Glancing around as she made her way to her seat, she also saw that no one had brought Arianna down from her bedchamber to join in this discussion. She doubted that was because they all felt a woman with child needed a lot of rest, which she did, and was more because they knew Arianna would immediately offer her aid without much thought for her own safety. For one brief moment, Triona considered sending for her cousin but quickly shook that thought aside. It would not be honorable to interfere with the men’s decision in such a way. They had a duty to their kinswoman and the child she carried. Triona would not try to undermine that duty in such a sly way.

“What is it ye would like me to tell ye?” she asked as she sat down and poured herself a tankard of cider, wondering if there was any way she could calm their worries without telling them everything.

“That fire was no lad’s prank, some simple mischief, or even an accident, was it?” said Brett, watching her face closely in the hope that he could detect it if she lied.

“Nay. It was yet another attempt to keep Banuilt from reaping a harvest good enough to stave off hunger this winter,” she replied, hating that she had to tell these men how bad things were at Banuilt and how little she had been able to do to stop the constant harassment.

“Ye have an enemy.”

“Nay as ye mean it, I am thinking. There are no direct attacks upon us and no bloodshed.”
At least not yet
, she mused as she sipped her cider. She could see by their expressions that the men were thinking much the same.

“Weel, no need to do so if they starve ye,” said Sir Callum.

“Verra true.” For such a handsome man he could look impressively fierce, she decided.

“Who does this to ye and your people?” asked Sir Brett.

“My neighbor to the west, Sir John Grant, laird of Gormfeurach.”

“And he has been doing it for a while, hasnae he? Ye were too weel organized for such an event, too quickly readied to go and put out the fire, for it to have been something rare.”

“We began to practice a swift response after the third fire in the fields. ’Tis when I also named each field a color. It allows us to get to the right one quickly. There are two wagons always readied with barrels of water and buckets, one in the village and one here. Everyone in the village who can run comes to the field to help, so that whatever fire has been set can be put out with as little damage done as possible. It has still cost us dearly but nay enough that we have all gone hungry.” She sighed. “If we had not lost so many to the fever, we might have faced starvation, though. There are now a lot fewer people to feed at Banuilt.”

“And a lot fewer at Gormfeurach?”

“Aye. They fell ill at nearly the same time. We think it came with the drovers, but we cannae be sure. Nor are we sure who had the illness first or who gave it to whom. It doesnae matter. It killed a lot of us. We had more women survive it, and Gormfeurach had more men survive it. For a verra brief time, that appeared to bring us e’en closer than we had ever been, but it was a short-lived peace. Sir John saw to that.”

“Because ye became the laird here when your husband died?”

“That is some of it. Sir John doesnae believe that is right. This isnae some clan stronghold as ye get in the Highlands, but a part of a much larger holding. ’Tis mine, but there is an agreement of sorts with a richer, more powerful laird to the north of us. He is our liege and he is the liege of Sir John, as weel. He allows me to rule here, although I think he doesnae truly like it, but Sir John is verra unhappy about it.”

“Why has your liege laird nay done anything about what Sir John is doing?” asked Callum. “Ye have complained to him, have ye nay?”

“Oh, aye, many times. I only recently gave up doing so. Sir John is far closer to the mon than I am,” Triona replied. “I am but Sir Boyd McKee’s widow. The mon believes Sir John’s denials and feigned sense of saddened insult. He undoubtedly believes I am naught but a silly woman trying to find someone else to blame for my own incompetence. Since I have nay actual proof of Sir John’s crimes, only my word against his, I ceased to complain for I feared the laird would decide that someone else should hold this land. I am nay sure he could hand it over to someone else, but I have nay wish to test that.”

“Do ye have papers concerning the rights to all of this land?”

“Aye. And that is another thing that troubles Sir John. Back before my husband’s first wife’s grandfather’s time, one of my husband’s first wife’s kin did a mighty favor for the king and the ruler gave a piece of the Grant land to Banuilt. The king wasnae verra happy with the Grants at the time. They owed him money, and some of their kinsmen had been traitors to the Crown. So the land was the payment and was then handed over to the McKees as a reward for their help in the matter. Sir John wants it back. ’Tis good land. Fertile and weel watered. Our liege cannae fix that, for it was a king’s grant—so that has only added to Sir John’s unhappiness.”

“Might I see what papers ye do have?”

“Of course. Any time ye wish, I shall show them to ye. But why?”

“I may find something that can settle your worry about losing this land and thus give ye the confidence to press your complaints about Sir John.”

She smiled at Callum. “That would be verra helpful. Thank ye.”

“Are Sir John’s men incompetent?” asked Harcourt.

Triona frowned. “Nay. Why would ye think so?”

“Because that fire was poorly set, if it was meant to destroy the whole crop.”

“Ah. We believe that Sir John’s people are nay fully behind his attempts to destroy me. The people of Banuilt and Gormfeurach have been allies for many, many years. There are so many connections among the people through marriages and all, that there has always been easy, open passage between the two lands. They all have kin in each place, or good friends. They also believe the land was given fairly, and by royal decree, so Sir John really doesnae have a right to cry foul. They ken the history of it all far better than he does, I am thinking. We have also helped them as often as they have helped us in the past.”

“Firmly joined then.”

“Aye, in so many ways. I dinnae understand why Sir John has taken it into his head that he should have this land. None of the previous lairds of Gormfeurach bothered. There was ne’er any trouble. I begin to think Sir John has nursed his sense of injustice for many years and, once Boyd was dead, felt he had a chance to put things back to what they were.”