Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (53 page)

“This is beyond belief,” Maryn said. Laird Donald had crossed the courtyard and entered the crowd of men a moment before. “My own father has begun to take wagers on the outcome.”

“Bao will win,” Branwenn said matter-of-factly as she stood on tiptoe behind Maryn and Lady Maclean, craning her neck to see over their shoulders.

Maryn turned her head and looked at her sister-in-law. “I do not think so, lassie. Daniel’s the best warrior in the Highlands.”

“By whose account? Bao’s a warrior knight who’s fought many battles for the High King of Scots. None other amongst the king’s men has bested him in a tournament; tho’ many have tried.”

Maryn was getting a bit chafed with Branwenn’s confidence that Daniel would lose the match. “By the account of all who have tried to win against him. Ready yourself to see Bao’s first loss.”

“Wanna lay a wager on it?”

Giving Branwenn a speculative look, Maryn replied, “What have you in mind?”

“Oh, naught too dear. I did like the look of your mare when you showed her to me this day past. I’d enjoy taking her out for a ride.”

“My mare allows no one to ride her but me. Think of something else.”

“Then simply promise me that I may
attempt
a ride on your mare. I promise, I’m a good rider,” Branwenn replied.

Maryn shrugged and nodded. “All right. Now, what to request when I win?” Tapping her forefinger against her chin, Maryn thought a moment. She snapped her fingers. “You’ll allow Jesslyn to trim that hair of yours and you’ll not complain when we begin your sewing lessons.”

“For that, I want at least
three
rides on your mare.”

“‘Tis a wager,” Maryn said, grinning.

“Oh, Lord. I hope the two of you do not regret your rash promises,” Lady Maclean said, though she was smiling as she said it and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes.

Turning their sights back to the match, the three stood at the window for the next half hour watching the two warriors endeavoring to overset the other; Maryn encouraging her husband and clapping when he gained the upper hand, while Branwenn did the same for Bao. Lady Maclean, of course, cheered for both her grandsons equally.

*

An hour later, both warriors walked across the courtyard with a stiff gate as they came from the bathhouse at the soldier’s quarters. Each had an arm over the other’s shoulders and their hair was still damp from its recent dousing. They were blatantly pleased with themselves.

“You almost got me early on with that tricky move with my arm,” Daniel said.

Bao looked at Daniel questioningly, “Aye? You got out of it easily enough.”

Daniel grinned. “Not so easily. Desperation inspires me.”

Bao grinned even broader. “I trow I would have won that match in mere moments had I been in better shape.”

“Ha! Think what you must to soothe your sore pride, my brother.”

Bao rubbed his bruised ribs with his free hand. “‘Twas not I who ended the match—‘twas
you
who did the deed.”

Daniel sobered. “Aye. I must ask the steward to see that a special meal is prepared for my soldiers this eve. They were very disappointed that their wagers were voided by the sudden halt I called to the match.” Daniel stopped and faced Bao. “I must speak to you in privy about that scar you bear on your chest. You’ve no doubt already suspected that it matches the one my father carved into my mother and grandfather—and I’ve delayed discussing it with you long enough.”

“Aye,” Bao agreed and turned to walk with Daniel back to the keep. He had not meant to allow his brother to see the scar, but it had become such an intrinsic part of his body that he had forgotten its existence in the excitement of the moment and, needing more flexibility of motion, had pulled off his shirt. He’d thought to have Daniel draw the symbol and, if it matched the one he was marked with, then he would give Daniel as much information about it as he knew. Now his disgrace would be known by all those that mattered to him.

*

The ladies were waiting in the great hall for the two men’s return. “Will you still allow me to ride Fia if Jesslyn trims my hair and I submit to sewing lessons?” Branwenn asked Maryn.

Looking over at Branwenn and examining the lass’s ruined locks, Maryn knew Branwenn surely desired the trim desperately, but was too proud to admit it. “Aye. But you may only
attempt
to ride Fia; you may not force her. If she gives you trouble, you are to back away.”

Daniel and Bao entered the great hall at that moment. Maryn rose from her stool and hurried forward, grasping her husband’s hands in her own. “We were watching the match from the solar—why did you stop the game so suddenly? Scanning her eyes first over her husband’s frame and then over her brother-in-law’s, she asked, “Were one of you hurt?”

Daniel leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Nay, love. We’re both fit, fear not.” Glancing at Bao, he waited for his brother’s quick nod before continuing, “It seems Bao bears the same marking on his frame that was engraved on my mother and grandfather. The shock of seeing it forced me to cut short the match.”

“You got that scar from our—pardon—your father, Bao? You told me ‘twas a scar you got in battle,” Branwenn said.

“‘Twas no lie I told you. I received it in a battle between my father and myself when I was but seven summers. He battled to carve it into me, and I battled to keep him from doing so.”

“Oh, my dear lad!” Lady Maclean exclaimed.

Bao’s fists clenched at his sides. “He won. That time.”

*

Unable to bear the looks of horror and pity on the others’ faces, Bao whirled around and strode from the hall. Leaning against the wall next to the doorway, he took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain his composure. He looked up when he heard his grandmother leading Maryn and his sister out of the chamber. They said naught, just nodded as they passed, and Bao watched as they quietly made their way up the stairs. He relaxed his shoulders and righted himself, relieved that the ladies would have no part in the coming discussion. With leaden feet, he strolled back into the hall and sat across from Daniel at the high table.

“Know you the meaning of the symbol—or its significance to our father?” Daniel asked.

Bao studied a callous on the base of his right palm. Rubbing it with his thumb, he said, “It means ‘vengeance’. ‘Twas his motto—and the emblem was his device. The symbol is part of the written language of my mother’s people.” Looking up at Daniel, Bao continued bitterly, “Our father thought it humorous to use a symbol of his slave’s language as his crest. At first, he only had the emblem sewn on his tunics and his banner. Later, when the emblem was well known and much feared, he began to use it as a way of branding his slaves and his defeated enemies.”

Daniel sat forward and ran his trembling fingers through his hair, pressing his palms against his head and closing his eyes tight. “I had not thought I could feel more hatred for my father than I already do. Were you his slave or his enemy?”

Bao clenched his fist reflexively and then forced it to relax. “I was his slave—and, in the end, his enemy.”

Daniel lifted his gaze. “He enslaved his own son. What kind of man does such a thing?”

“A man with no heart—nor soul. I often thought he was a monster in human form. He never wavered in his methods, unless ‘twas to make them even more vile.” Bao absently scrubbed at his cheek. “The only legacy he left to me, that I do not despise, was his instruction in the ways of soldiering. For it provided me a trade with which to take care of Branwenn.”

Daniel reached across the table and grasped his shoulder. “Aye, at least you had that, for which I am ever in your debt. You saved my life with those skills.”

Bao grasped Daniel’s shoulder as well. “You owe me naught. We are brothers. Besides, if there is a debt to pay, ‘tis mine to you for taking over the care of my sister.”

Daniel grinned. “You mean
our
sister? Do not think I have not noticed that you are loath to declare her as such to me. But, as to the other, there is naught you owe me on that score. For, ‘tis truth, I had to plead with her to allow me the honor of such a duty.”

Tamping down on his feeling of loss, Bao smiled ruefully. “My thanks, brother, for keeping
our
sister here with you.”

Callum returned the next day to try one last measure to stop a clan war; one that was in the making between the MacGregors and the Gordons over a tract of land that lay between the two holdings. ‘Twas good pasture land that had a small burn running through it and each clan insisted ‘twas part of their own holding. The Gordon’s property was newly acquired by marriage, and a royal survey of their land included the tract. The MacGregors had been on their holding for over 100 years and had an equally valid, though much older, royal survey showing it as part of their own holding. Neither clan was willing to give it up.

“You know I would not ask this of you if ‘twere not urgently necessary,” Callum said to Laird Donald as they rushed toward the stables. “I fear my uncle and his men are bound to turn this into a bloody feud if we cannot come to some mutually agreeable solution.” In front of the horses’ lodging, Callum lifted the satchel containing a few personal belongings from the ground where he’d flung it only a half-hour before, and threw it over his shoulder. “I’ve done all I could in the past fortnight to settle this peaceably, but my efforts have been for naught.”

“Ease yourself, lad, I’m sure we can bring this disagreement to a less violent end,” Laird Donald replied, clearly winded from their jog across the courtyard.

“I was at my wit’s end three night’s past, until I suddenly thought of you and all you’ve accomplished as a mediator, first between Daniel and my grandparents, and then between the Donalds and the Macleans.” He opened the door to the stables and waited for the other man to walk inside before following. “I was alarmed when I arrived at your holding and found that you were not in residence, but at least the distance between your holding and this one is not too great.”

Daniel and Bao sprinted to catch up to the two. “We travel with you!” Daniel called out, flinging the door to the stables wide.

Callum halted and turned around. He dipped his head in a quick nod of agreement, grateful and a bit surprised by his cousins’ show of support. “My thanks.”

“No thanks are needed. The Macleans will ally themselves with the MacGregors if a clan war does ensue but I want to be part of the mediation to ensure that all other means have been attempted first,” Daniel replied.

“And I have many years of experience warring for the high king,” Bao told him. “You’ll need all the trained men you can gather if the mediation is not successful.”

“Aye, you are right,” Callum replied. He had no time now to think on the amazing news of his blood connection to this foreigner he’d met so many years past. Nor of the lass Daniel had told Callum of a few minutes ago, whom Bao had fostered as a sister all these years, but whom Callum had yet to meet.

“We’ll need our mounts readied forthwith,” Daniel said to one of the stablemen. Turning, he spoke to Laird Donald. “The journey, even at a fast clip, will take a day and a half. I’ve made arrangements for provisions; they should be here shortly.”

Maryn charged up to Daniel’s side, followed by Jesslyn, Branwenn, and Lady Maclean. “Were you not even going to say a word to me before you left, husband? I was only just informed of this journey by the steward.” Fear and irritation warred for dominion inside her.

Callum turned to Daniel and, enjoying the look of chagrin he saw on his cousin’s face, could not keep himself from goading him a bit. “You told the
steward
you were leaving before you told your own
wife
?”

*

Daniel shot Callum a venomous look before turning back to soothe the ruffled feathers of his disgruntled, pregnant lady. Taking her hand, he walked a few paces away from the others so that they might have a few words in privy. “I’m sorry, love. My only excuse is that I was seized by the urgency of the situation. You must believe, I would not have left here without telling you.”

Maryn sighed and nodded her head. “Aye.”

“While I am gone, I do not want you outside the keep without an escort.”

“But, Da—”

“Just give me your promise. I will sleep better knowing you are safe.”

She sighed so hard she grunted. “I
am
safe.”

He drilled her with a glare.

“Oh, all right. I’ll not leave the keep without an escort, m’lord.”

He grinned and tweaked her nose. “That’s a good lass.”

She pouted a moment and then asked, “How long will you be gone? You will not truly make war with another clan, will you Daniel?”

Wrapping his arms around his wife, he brought her close and held her. She immediately did the same. “I hope this will not take more than a few days, possibly a sennight. We are set on doing all that we can to prevent a war from breaking out between the two clans. But if war begins, the Macleans
will
be a part of it.”

Maryn lifted her head to look into his eyes. “You cannot die,” she said, gripping the back of his tunic in her fists and giving it a slight tug. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you will return here alive. I cannot raise our son alone.” Rising up on tiptoes, she put her arms around his neck.