A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2)

Chapter 2

The sun set over the mountains to the west, shrouding the valley in shadow, and Mathe stood before the ruined farmhouse.

The surrounding sky turned dark as he stared at the remains. It was little more than rubble; a stone foundation with a few small walls remaining. There was nothing else standing.

The ground was strewn with the remains of their home; lumpen mounds of stone that had sunk into the very earth, all hard angles and covered with moss from the damp of the valley. It was clear the house had been like this for a very long time. He stepped up onto remains of the floor and scuffed the dark stains with his boots and noted similar marks on the walls. Old soot wiped away at his touch.

There had been a fire.

Mathe shivered in the cool air. It was likely that Lilidh had simply moved into Dun Lagaidh after he left, but a dark shadow of doubt gnawed at him. Had he lived in his cell and dreamt of his wife while she lay in the cold ground? He grimaced and pushed the thought away. She would surely be in town.

As he walked, Mathe became lost in the past. The original layout could be traced by the marks of the fire, showing where the walls used to stand, and he slowly moved from room to room. Each one held dear memories of time shared with Lilidh in the early days of their marriage, when they were both young and almost desperately in love.

He moved into the kitchen; where they cooked the food that they grew in the back garden. Lilidh used to have rows of carrots and turnips, and would spend hours on her knees in the dirt, tending to them with patience. Mathe lost count of the times he would stand by the door and watch her in the afternoon light and the way it caught her hair. Even now, he could close his eyes and smell the loam of the earth and the way it clung to her when he pulled her close, kissing her cheeks and wiping the dirt from her nose.

He stepped into the main room, where they’d retired after a long day, to sit in front of the fireplace and let the heat soothe them. It was Mathe’s favourite room, and the site of his favourite pastime; slipping his wife out of her clothes, her naked body tantalisingly inviting in the light of the flames. Each night he would lay her down gently on the rug, and together they would discover new things and new passions, their love growing stronger.

But there were other memories here too, of a darker sort, and Mathe knew they were equally as important.

After he had begun to work for the old Laird McCaskill, the home had become his sanctuary. It was the place where he would come back to his wife and push away the shame and the guilt of the things he’d been forced to do. To forget the man he was turning into, and the terrible toll it was taking.

Over time, the house became too much. Every room had been the site of a battle, or of stony silence, or of the slow way they found themselves strangers once again. Mathe found more and more opportunity to sleep in the castle so he wouldn’t have to return to Lilidh’s accusations or to her silent stares. The house, once so dear to him, had become a place where he didn’t belong anymore.

It had angered Mathe at the time, but six years in a prison cell had allowed him to understand that it was a deep sense of guilt that had made him feel that way; he knew he was failing his wife, and had taken the easy way out by avoiding the problem. He had wrapped himself in his duty to the old laird, strapped his sword to his waist, and became the man he thought he needed to be.

Thinking of his sword, Mèirleach na Beatha, the Thief of Life, made Mathe uncomfortable. It had become a part of MacBrennan; the myth that he had built up around himself. He stepped down onto the rocky ground next to the house and looked at the flat earth underfoot. It was covered with short grass that showed no signs of tampering.

The sword was still there, buried six feet underground. A reminder and a lesson.

The night had grown cold, and Mathe gathered peat and moss and piled them up in the main room, lighting a meagre fire that did little to warm the cold in his bones. He wrapped himself up in his blanket and lay back on the stone floor, staring at the black sky above, and wondered what the morrow would bring.

* * *

A booton the shoulder woke Mathe. He opened his eyes to see a man standing over him, looking down with a frown.

“Ye alright?” the man asked.

Mathe sat up, looking around. It was morning, and the sun had just crested the peaks to cast light and warmth down into the valley. The man who had nudged him stepped back and looked down warily.

“I’m fine,” Mathe said.

“Can I help ye with something?”

“Naught that concerns ye,” he replied.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I live next door, and ye’re a stranger, so ye sleeping here concerns me.”

Mathe stood, stretching his tall frame. He didn’t recognise the man. “Why is me being here any of yer business?”

“Squatting is outlawed,” he said, looking up at Mathe. “The laird willnae take kindly to knowing ye’re sleeping in houses that dinnae belong to ye.”

Mathe gestured around him. “No” much of a house, is it?”

“Dinnae matter, does it? It’s no” yers, so ye need to move along.”

“Dinnae trouble yerself,” Mathe said. “I’m no” staying.”

“So why are ye here?”

Mathe looked around, and once again felt the surge of fear at the sight of the burned and blackened ruin. He needed to know, but his mind shied away from the question. She couldn’t be dead. Could life be so cruel? Or was that exactly what Mathe MacBrennan deserved?

“I arrived last night,” he said, “and I was actually looking for the person who used to live here. Lilidh MacBrennan?”

“And who are ye?”

“Just an auld friend,” Mathe said. “I havenae seen her in close to six years now. She lived here, didnae she?”

“Aye, she did,” the man replied grudgingly.

“Any idea where she is now?” Mathe asked, feeling his hands grow clammy, almost afraid to hear the answer.

The man jerked his head back towards Dun Lagaidh. “She moved into town about four or five years ago.”

Mathe almost gasped in relief at the man’s words, but kept his face neutral. “I see. Any idea where she moved to?”

He shook his head. “Nay, ye’ll need to ask around.”

Mathe nodded. “What happened here?”

“Fire. It wasnae long after I moved here, so I dinnae know the details. Ye’ll need to ask her.”

“Aye,” Mathe replied. “I suppose that means I better be on my way.”

The man nodded. “I suppose it does.”

Mathe gathered his things into his sack and hoisted it over his shoulder as the man watched him in silence. He took one more look at the ruins, scattered the cold remains of the fire with his boot, and began on his way.

The valley sloped down and to the left as it reached towards Dun Lagaidh, and Mathe followed it in the sunshine. He had to admit that it felt strange to be making this journey, so long after he had resigned himself to never seeing his home again. The path was familiar, and with anticipation he crested a small rise to look down upon the town.

It had grown, even in the last six years. The path he was on entered from the west, and there was now a stone wall marking the edge of town where no such thing existed before. The western gate was always a rather loose term, but it now looked much more formal, with an arched entrance and guards standing on either side. Beyond the wall the town itself looked much bigger, stretching towards the Dundonnell river in the south, and buildings were creeping up the hillside towards the castle itself.

It was an impressive sight, Mathe was forced to admit. The castle looked high and strong, and everything shone brightly in the morning sun.

He approached the guards at the gate and felt a note of anxiousness, wondering if they would recognise him. On the way back from London, Mathe had indulged himself on a particularly dreich night, and paid to stay at a roadside inn. His room had a silver tray that was polished to a mirror finish, and he’d spent a long time looking back at the stranger on the other side. His bulk was gone and replaced with a scrawny frame. His beard reached down to his chest; a wild tangle that covered most of his face. He was a different man altogether, with only his height remaining, but there were plenty of tall men.

Mathe decided it was for the best; he hadn’t been intending on hiding his presence, but he desired the chance to find and speak to Lilidh before word traveled to the castle that MacBrennan had returned. He was sure that Laird Arran wouldn’t take kindly to his reappearance, so for now, anonymity was a good thing.

He stroked his beard and walked up to the gate, joining the small line of people waiting to get in. People turned to look at him curiously, and Mathe once again wondered if they would recognise him. Some looked away after a moment while others held their gaze on him for longer. One man looked for a very long time and Mathe shifted uncomfortably, doing his best to ignore them as they shuffled forward slowly towards the gate.

“Halt,” one guard said, stepping in front of him. The man gave no sign of recognition. “State yer business.”

“I’m just passing through,” Mathe replied. “Here to trade and spend my coin.”

The guard’s eyes flickered down to Mathe’s clothing. “Dinnae look like ye have much coin to me. We dinnae tolerate beggars here.”

Mathe paused and bit down an angry retort. It wouldn’t serve him, and he reminded himself that he was trying to be a better man. “I used to live here, and I dinnae remember travellers being questioned at the gates. Is there a problem?”

“Precaution,” the guard replied with narrowed eyes. “On the laird’s orders. Unless ye have a problem?”

Mathe shook his head. “Nay, just curious. What’s the laird worried about?”

The guard shook his head. “Ye”re really no” from around here, are ye? War, stranger, that’s what. Now off ye go, but I’ll be keeping my eye out for ye.”

Mathe walked past him and into the town. It truly had changed in the years he was away, growing both out and up, with buildings stretching two, three and even four floors towards the sky. The streets were busy with both shoppers and workers, and more than once Mathe stood to one side to allow long lines of cows through, their long brown hair flashing in the sun.

If he could have hazarded a guess, Mathe would have said the town had nearly doubled in size to what he remembered. Although he was here with a purpose, it was hard to resist the urge to simply walk around and marvel at the changes. It was a curious combination of the familiar with the strange; a corner house he knew so well, now with a second story and a fresh coat of daub.

The West Gate still stood, but it felt to Mathe that it was now in the centre of town rather than the edge; he passed many houses before he reached it. Although he had preferred the Dog Ear in his youth, he’d occasionally spent a long night or two in the West Gate. He was almost pleased to see the outside was as shabby as ever. Not everything was new and shiny in Dun Lagaidh, he supposed.

Inside, the inn was dark and cool as Mathe ducked his tall frame under the door. The common room was quiet and a young man stood behind the counter.

“Ye alright?” he asked in greeting.

“Aye,” Mathe replied. “I’m from out of town and I’m looking for someone. An auld friend, but I dinnae know where she lives.”

The man shrugged. “I havenae lived here long myself, but I’ll do my best.”

“Miss Lilidh MacBrennan?”

“Widow MacBrennan?”

Mathe frowned. “Aye, I suppose.”

“I heard she lives in the cruck shacks on the western wall.”

“Inside the western wall?” Mathe asked.

“Aye,” the man replied. “Just north of the western gate. Do ye know where that is?”

Mathe nodded. “I came in that way. My thanks.”

“Can I get ye a drink?”

“Maybe later,” Mathe said, and stepped back onto the street.

He walked back the way he had come, turning north before he reached the gate, and found himself at the cruck shacks. There was no mistaking them. Mathe narrowed his eyes as he looked down into the small group of houses huddled together in the mud. Unlike the solid stone houses behind him, these were made of wood and poor wood at that; they were all off angles and looked liable to fall over if they weren’t all pushed up hard against the town wall behind.

There must have been a mistake; the Lilidh that he knew wouldn’t have lived in a place such as this. He stepped down onto a makeshift bridge of wooden planks and to the first house, where an old man sat on a small covered porch.

“Lilidh MacBrennan?” Mathe asked without preamble.

The man looked at him for a moment, then lifted one hand slowly to point at the house next door. Mathe gestured to it with a question on his face, and the man nodded and dropped his hand.

Mathe turned to face it and took a deep breath, suddenly wishing that he’d thought more on what he would say, or how he would say it.

No matter. He was here, and there was nothing else to do. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, but before he reached the porch, the front door opened. Mathe paused mid-stride, his heart suddenly hammering.

A boy stepped out.

As Mathe watched, the boy closed the door behind him and lay on his stomach on the wooden floor, leaning over the edge and reaching down with one hand. The boy hadn’t noticed him and so Mathe stood still as he watched him pull rocks out of the mud with a triumphant cry, gathering them together in a pile.

Mathe felt frozen by indecision. Who was this boy? Should he leave and come back later? He stepped backwards slowly.

“Hello?” The boy asked, looking up.

Mathe licked his lips and raised his hand in greeting. “Hello.”

“Are ye here to help me gather rocks?”

“I’m no”, lad, but I can help if ye like.”

The boy nodded, as if this was the most reasonable answer in the world. Mathe stepped onto the porch and sat next to him.

“It’s for a crown,” the boy explained. “For mama.”

Mathe nodded and looked at him. His face was clean but his clothes were dirty; old with faded stains. He looked young, but Mathe had little experience with children apart from the old laird’s sons, and couldn’t say how old the boy was before him. His little legs swung in the air as he looked down intently into the mud, searching for rocks.

“What’s yer name, lad?” Mathe asked.

“Fynn,” the boy replied without looking up. “What’s yer name?”

Like he had at the gate, Mathe was overcome with a sudden desire to keep his identity to himself until he had spoken to Lilidh. “Duine,” he answered. It was an old word, meaning man, and was as good as any other name.

“Duine,” Fynn said back, like he was tasting the name, before nodding. “Ye can lie down next to me, if ye like.”

Mathe nodded and lay down next to the boy on his stomach, although he was far too tall, and curled his legs up hard against the side of the house. He looked down into the mud with Fynn and searched for stones.

“Do ye live here with yer mother?” Mathe asked.

“Aye,” the boy replied.

“Do ye know yer mama’s real name?”

“Aye,” Fynn said with a nod. “Mama Lilidh.”

“And what about yer father?”

Fynn shook his head. “Dinnae have one.”

“Everyone has a father, lad.”

“I dinnae have one,” Fynn replied, “and mama says I dinnae need one.”

“So it’s just ye and yer mother?” he asked. “She doesnae have a man?”

“Just us. Mama says I’m the only man she needs.”

As he spoke this, the boy twisted and looked over at Mathe, and from so close it was easy to see Fynn’s bright green eyes. Mathe felt a strange constriction in his chest as he looked over.

They were his eyes.

“How auld are ye, lad?” he asked slowly.

Fynn scrunched his face up. “Six,” he said. “I’ll be seven soon.”

Mathe nodded and tried to remember exactly how long it had been since he left. He knew that he’d grown apart from Lilidh in the months leading up to the old laird’s death, but there was one night, a month before he’d left, where they had lain together as man and wife, for one last time…

Mathe knew he had let Lilidh down, but was it even worse than he had assumed?

“Is yer mother home?” he asked.

“Nay,” Fynn said with a shake of his head. “Mama is at work today.”

“And where does yer mama work?”

The boy nodded his head in an upward direction. “Mama works in the castle,” he said.

Mathe felt his eyebrow raise. “The castle? What does she do there?”

“She said she scrubs pots. Her hands are always red and sore.”

“I see,” Mathe said. He always remembered Lilidh as being a proud woman. A hard worker, but one who worked for herself. Not a kitchen hand. What had happened in these years to see her in such a position?

“Do ye know mama?” the boy asked.

“A long time ago,” Mathe said. “I’d like to speak with her.”

Fynn nodded and pointed at a small stone out of his reach. “Can ye please get that one?”

Mathe stretched out and plucked it from the mud. “That’s a good one,” he said.

“Aye. Mama comes home at teatime. Or she’s here in the morning before she leaves for work.”

“Perhaps morning might be best,” Mathe said. “I dinnae want to interrupt yer tea time. What are ye eating tonight?”

The boy sighed. “Neeps. Again.”

“Ye dinnae like neeps?”

He pouted. “They’re fine, I suppose, just no” every night.”

“I suppose no”.”

The conversation trailed off and Mathe felt suddenly awkward. He”d never been comfortable around children and knew that he used to frighten them; the big and scary MacBrennan, who would kick the door down if they didn’t eat their vegetables. Fynn didn’t seem scared of him though, and once again Mathe reflected just how different he must appear from the man he used to be. Still tall, but lacking all other traits that came to define him so well; the solid build and clean-shaven face. The cold demeanour, kirtle and sword, and arrogant walk.

Now, he was bearded and frail and unassuming. He stood, stretching upwards and feeling the top of his head brush the wooden beams above. Fynn stood next to him and craned his neck up.

“Ye”re the biggest person I’ve ever seen,” he said in awe.

Mathe looked down at the boy and attempted a smile. It felt strange, and he figured he just had a face that was unused to smiling. “Aye, it’s likely I am.”

“Ye must bump yer head a lot.”

The boy had such a serious look on his face that Mathe couldn’t help but laugh. It felt as odd as the smile. “I’ve learnt to look twice, and besides, it’s no” all bad. I’m the first person to learn when it rains.”

Fynn nodded, missing the jest as he considered Mathe’s words. “Aye,” he said at last. “That’s well handy.”

“I’ll see ye in the morning, Fynn,” Mathe said.

“Ye’ll help me find more rocks?”

“Aye, after I’ve spoken to yer mother.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Mathe turned and stepped off the porch onto the wooden planks, balancing against the shifting mud underneath.

“Duine?”

He paused and turned back to the boy. “Aye?”

Fynn raised one small hand. “See ye tomorrow.”