Author: Ann Marie Scott
Category: Other
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A Normal Breakfast
When Blair went down to the taproom in the morning, she found Slaine and Angus sitting at the same table, breaking their fast together.
Angus was thoughtfully spooning porridge into his mouth while Slaine was breaking off pieces of bannock and taking bites of it in between drinking ale. The scene seemed peaceable enough, and Blain joined them after saying a brisk good morning.
“There are some parts of yer story still missing, Faither.” Blair, after taking a sip of cider, began her questions anew as though there had been no break in the conversation they had had the previous night. “How did ye ken to drop off the woman where ye did? Ye said something about it being close enough for her to walk into Cromachy but still far away enough from her final destination. What did ye mean by that?”
Angus heaved a sigh. “Losh, are ye still on about that?” He saw Blair’s face set in a determined expression and knew he would not be left in peace until she had all the details. “Very well. I have been to the Cromachy thieves’ den many times before. They are too clever to set up their business within the town walls. If the counselors are good men, they run the danger of being caught, and if the counselors are willing to turn a blind eye, then it means they would have to give them a cut of the booty.”
Slaine added his thoughts to what Angus had just said. “It sounds like they’ve been doing this for quite some time—long enough for the gang to have seen the comings and goings of more than a few counsels.”
Angus agreed. “That they have, young man. They are one o’ the largest gangs operating within His Majesty’s borders at this time, and have been steadily growing over the past ten or twenty years. They are adept at spying out towns where their enterprises will be tolerated, if nae actively encouraged, and then set up a network o’ criminals around its perimeter. With all the clan fighting we’ve been having in the Highlands, there’s plenty enough land without a laird to govern affairs.”
Blair scoffed as she buttered herself a slice of bread. “Faither, I’m sure ye exaggerate. No town or the townsfolk living within its walls would take kindly to an endless parade of ne’er-do-wells prancing along their streets, never mind all the thieving and pickpocketing.”
“There’s where ye’re wrong, Daughter,” Angus elaborated. “They stay outside the town limits and prey on the smaller villages and farmsteads instead. They only use the camps as a meeting point where the goods are appraised and exchanged.”
“If they are scattered all over the countryside, hidden in the forests growing around the towns—the ones that provide the town’s inhabitants with firewood, foraging, and hunting—then it stands to reason anyone coming across them wouldnae associate a small camp of vagabonds with a huge gang of criminals,” Slaine added.
Angus tilted his mug of ale in Slaine’s direction in agreement. “Ye speak the truth.”
“They must have been at this long enough to think things through to their best advantage,” Slaine said, banging his mug down on the table and signaling for the barkeep to give him a refill.
“Aye! That’s the point. Petty cattle rustling and the occasional cutpurse incident in one hundred places around the Highlands is nothing unusual, but when ye total it all together, well then, it comes to a pretty penny,” Angus shook his head at the cleverness of it all.
“There must be someone in charge, one man who’s controlling all the bandits and devising their wretched strategies, surely?” Blair said.
Angus shrunk down in his chair and whispered, “Aye…”
Blair and Slaine looked interested when he said this.
“Go on,” Blair said.
“Cannae we have a nice, normal breakfast without ruining it with all these questions?” Angus pleaded.
Blair’s father shook like a blancmange, closed his eyes at the memory, but told them, “I only met the man once. It was he who had taken such a fancy to that poor woman when they captured her as a child. He said she was the most strapping lass he’d ever laid eyes on; her red hair and green eyes reminded him of the shield maidens of the Norsemen. As she grew in age and beauty, he was convinced she had the ability to cast spells over men with her slanted green eyes. The gang became superstitious about her and thought her a witch, a changeling they had found hiding and waiting for them.”
“Why would they think that?” Blair was intrigued by this woman and felt a kindred spirit with her.
“The chief told me himself. I dinnae wish to sully yer ears with what he said, Daughter, but apparently, if a man drunkenly tried to force himself on her or even woo her in earnest, his passion would wither with one look from her eyes. And then—he would fall sick and die!”
Blair gave a shiver. Perhaps the woman was a powerful witch, but even if she were, it was no justification for her slavery.
“Tell me more about this chieftain,” Slaine said. “I want a good description of the man in case I ever bump into him.”
Angus gazed at Slaine shrewdly, sizing him up.
“I like ye, young man. Ye seem to have all yer wits about ye. So, I’ll tell it to ye straight. If ye were to try and take on the brigand chief, ye would lose. For I have never met a taller, stronger, more powerful-looking brute in all me life.”
Blair was not impressed and had misgivings her father might be exaggerating. “Bigger than Slaine? I doubt it.”
Angus was adamant, “That he is. ‘Twas he who handed the woman over to me in Flichity. He told me to take good care of her because he had decided to make her his wife when they were reunited in the forest camp outside Cromachy. He told me he’d ordered for a chapel bower to be crafted out o’ tree branches and had even bought a silken tent from the southern lands across the seas for them to use as their bridal bedchamber.”
“How will they conduct a legal ceremony all the way out there?” Blair queried.
“They are sure to boast a corrupt clergy official amongst their numbers,” Angus said grimly. “When there are no lairds left to govern, good folks can turn bad very quickly.”
He thought awhile, then added, “Ye want to ken more about this chieftain and the woman? He is so tall as to have to bend his head under a door lintel. I hope he is kind to her once the bairns arrive because their children will be more like giants than human folk.”
Blair scoffed, “Slaine is as tall as that. It’s why he doesnae wear a hat because the ceilings would just keep knocking it off.”
Slaine interjected into their discussion about his height. “This is all useless conjecture. The chieftain and woman are in all likelihood married by now, and probably having breakfast in their silken Arabian pavilion.”
“I dinnae think so,” Angus said, wiping his mouth with the tablecloth. “The chief is still making his way here on horseback today. He said he needed a few days in Flichity to wrap up his business so he could enjoy his betrothal night for many an hour.”
“Hm,” Slaine grunted. “I hope her last day of freedom is enough to keep her satisfied for the rest of her life.” He looked out the window at the sky. “‘Tis pretty enough weather. Maybe it will put the woman in a more hopeful frame of mind.”
Angus scoffed, “I have me doubts. I have seen how he treats the other women who have come and gone from his bedchamber through the years. They arrive all perky and bright and leave weeping and ruined. The poor wretches have even asked me for a lift to take them away, but the chief never lets them leave until he’s done with them. If they be comely, he beats their faces so bad their own mithers wouldnae recognize them; if they be shapely and straight, they leave heavy with bairn and crooked from hard labor. Like I said, he appreciates women until he’s had his fill o’ them.”
“He must be a very handsome man to have so many women flock to him, even after what he’s done to the others…” Blair postulated, trying to make sense of it all.
Angus gave a shout of laughter and then raised his hand in an apology when all the other taproom patrons looked at him.
“His face matches his blackguard manners
and bestial nature, Daughter. Let me try an’ describe the boorish deviant to ye. He is as wide as he is tall—in truth, his belly is made fat from feasting on stolen cattle every night. He loves his drink, so much it’s turned his cheeks into huge chops of purple wattle and his nose as red as the biggest Christmas holly berry ye can imagine. His arms and legs are huge slabs, like hairy tree trunks. The hair on his face doesnae just grow out in a beard, it sprouts from his ears and nostrils like some exotic plant from the Americas.”
Slaine could hear from the way Angus spoke that his stories must have kept his children very entertained around the fires every night before bedtime.
“He sounds like a monster,” was all Blair could say.
Angus agreed. “‘Tis no overstatement to say the fellow is as unappetizing a husband as any woman could imagine. He doesnae bathe or wash and stinks as bad as a bridge troll. Why d’ye think I tried to help the poor woman so much?”
Blair had heard enough. “I’m off back upstairs. Follow me when ye’ve finished.” She pushed her plate away and left.
“She’s keen to start packin’, I would imagine,” Angus said, taking another sip of ale. “She must be so happy she can go back to the farm.”
17
Run and Rescue
Slaine entered the parlor and found Blair there, pacing from one side of the room to the other, her fists clenched and lips pressed into an unhappy line.
“We have to go and help that woman. We have to go and rescue her.”
She did not even look at him when she said this, too caught up in her rage to think he would dare disagree with her.
Slaine sat down in the same armchair Angus had used the previous night and stretched his long legs out in front of him with the ankles comfortably crossed.
“Did ye hear what yer faither said, Blair? It’s a well-organized gang with a chief the size of an ogre and with a camp hidden away in the forest outside Cromachy. Why dinnae I stop off at the local laird’s keep on the way out and ask him to look into the business for ye?”
Blair wrung her hands in frustration. “If ye lived around here full time, ye would ken the local lairds in charge of Cromachy and Flichity have undone each other after years and years of clan fighting. Only a few chieftains remain, and they have their hands full trying to hold on to what they have left. Why d’ye think the towns ’round here have descended into lawlessness?”
“I have indeed noticed, lass, but I can promise ye it wilnae be long before a strong leader arises—one who will unite the clans and claim lairdship over all these broken lands. It will happen within the next few years, Blair, I can feel it in me bones.”
As he said this, Slaine was not even aware of how he had gripped the sheathed dagger he always kept by his side. Blair did notice, however, and pounced.
“Y’see! It irks ye to have to bear this lawlessness just as much as it does me. Let’s leave now—together—and go find the woman.”
Slaine shook his head. “Ye must do as yer faither says, and ride home with him in the gig. It would be wrong of me to support ye in doing anything else.”
Blair was desperate and tried every trick she knew to get Slaine to do what she asked.
“Am I to call ye a coward?” she taunted him.
Slaine shrugged. “Ye can call me anything ye like, lass, but it wilnae budge me. Do ye think yer faither would permit me to come wooing ye after I had taken ye off to find a robbers’ lair?”
Blair stopped pacing, “Oh, Slaine, when ye say that, it makes me so happy ye plan on following me back to the farm and asking me faither for me hand in marriage, but—”
Slaine waited for the “but.” With a girl like Blair, there was always a “but.”
“But I cannae in good conscience go home when that woman is still a captive. What would ye do if it was me in that camp?”
Slaine clutched his head in his hands in frustration, his fingers grasping his shoulder-length hair. “It’s nae ye in the blasted camp, Blair! It’s some woman ye and I have never met, who has most likely accepted her fate and is facing it with as good grace as possible!”
Angus chose this moment to enter the room. “Ye’ll be pleased to hear I’ve secured a gig and horse to take us back to the farm. We should be there in time for dinner...although if yer mither’s cooking it, we maybe should stop off at the alehouse on the way and grab a bite to eat!”
He turned to Slaine, who was sitting in the armchair with an exasperated expression on his face. “As for ye, young man, I thank ye for the service ye provided for me daughter and yer gallantry for nae taking her up on her offer to share a bedchamber. No harm done. Ye will be most welcome at the farm if yer way ever passes there. Come anytime.”
Angus looked at Blair. “Where’s yer saddlebags? Oh, and hand over the gold ye promised to this man, Daughter. He’s been of great service to us both.”
No one in the room moved.
Father, daughter, and warrior stayed still, as though an icy Highland gale had just frozen them to the spot.
“Blair?” Angus looked from his daughter to Slaine, unsure of what more there was to be said.
“I’m nae going home, Faither,” Blair informed him. “I’m staying here to go find that woman and help her escape.”
Angus chortled. “It’s a good joke, Blair, but this isnae a fairy tale where ye can simply wave a magic wand and do that in the wink of an eye. If ye’re even thinkin’ about trying such a thing, all that will happen is the chief brigand will have two wives to do his bidding for him in the future, and no one.”
Slaine sat up straight in the armchair. “Listen to what yer faither’s saying, Blair. He kens what he’s talking about. Look at his injuries...and he didnae even get them from the chief; he got them from the gang. Go home with yer faither and forget this madness.”
“Ye’re both lousy cowards, the pair o’ ye! Why are ye too lily-livered to even take a peek at the place? For all ye ken, it might be as easy for us to take her back as it was letting her go in the first place,”
Blair stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, refusing to budge.
Angus tried his own form of stubborn persuasion. “If ye carry on acting like this, Daughter, ye’ll scare off any man wanting to wed ye! Nay man wants a scolding fishwife for his spouse.”
Blair looked at Slaine when Angus said this. He did not appear at all revolted by her behavior, but his face bore a rigid expression—the exact same look she had seen him have in the woods before she made the wrong decision and gone around the barrier of tree branches instead of turning back. It made her hesitate. Could it be Slaine was advocating the correct action to take? He was older and wiser than she; well versed in how brigands and varlets behaved. Would it be better to submit and listen to his advice?
But Slaine cannae possibly be right now! He might be right in the sense that going home is the best and safest thing to do for everyone in this room, but it’s most certainly nae the right thing to do for that poor woman.
Blair’s shoulders slumped, and it seemed to the two men watching her that all the breath was expelled from her body in one deflating sigh.
Angus and Slaine looked over at one another hopefully. Could it be their sane arguments had won Blair over?
“Very well,” she whispered softly, “I have nay wish to figure in anyone’s mind as a shrew. All I wanted to do was go and rescue that woman as I ken is the right thing to do, and ye cannae disagree with me on that score.”
She looked at Slaine. “Ye make yer living out of keeping people safe, and yet ye wilnae do this one thing for me. Is it because this woman has no gold?”
Slaine shook his head firmly, determined not to be swayed by Blair’s argument. “Nay, lass, ‘tis because I dinnae ken this woman, or understand the circumstances of her capture perfectly. For all we ken, she could be the biggest doxy under the sun, and ye want us to risk our lives for her? Nay. Also, yer faither’s still yer guardian, and he forbids it.”
Blair’s eyes filled with t
ears at Slaine’s rational words, and she turned to her father.
“Faither, will ye nae command Slaine to help me? Ye ken that poor woman is blameless and about to be forced into the most horrid act. Please, dearest faither, bid Slaine to help me…to help us.”
“Ye’re joking, aye?” Angus said brusquely. “I’ve already tried to save the woman once! How many times do ye expect me to put meself out over her? Come on now, pack yer things and let’s be on our way.”
Blair nodded and stumbled to the bedchamber door, her eyes blinded by tears. She closed the door behind her, and the two men left in the parlor heard the sound of wardrobe doors and drawers opening and shutting.
“Best we let her get her tears out,” Angus said to Slaine, “it will make for a more pleasant trip home. Still, there’s time for one more mug o’ ale downstairs, nae so?”
He ushered Slaine out of the parlor and down to the taproom.
18
Gone
“She shouldnae be taking this long,” Slaine said. “Blair has ever been one to bounce back from an upset, ready to take on the world anew. It’s been over an hour.”
Angus gave a slight belch from drinking his ale too fast, and shrugged. “How would ye ken? Ye speak as though ye’ve been with her all her life.”
Slaine ignored the slight. “Has she always been such a thrawn wee lass? Or did it arise when she came to womanhood?”
Made garrulous from the ale, Angus replied, “Och, she was ever the wee minx. Screamin’ her head off when she dinnae get what she wanted...first, she wanted to ride a pony, then she wanted to ride Pooka, then she wanted to jump him over fences. It drove me to distraction. But she calmed down a bit when she took on the duties of running the household and the farm, fortunately. Once one mountain is climbed, she wants to scale an even taller one, if ye take me meaning.”
“Hm,” Slaine said, no longer willing to keep his suspicions secret. Leaving his ale untouched, he ran up the stairs, three at a time, and burst into the bedchamber. It was empty. Cursing under his breath, Slaine ran back down the stairs to the stables.