Chapter 6
Mathe wandered aimlessly down streets both familiar and new, lost in the maze of his own thoughts.
Before he realised it, the sun had dipped and shadows stretched over the cobbled stones underfoot. The air turned colder, and he knew he’d need to think about shelter for the night. He’d stayed in the old farmhouse again after meeting Fynn, sleeping in the ruins of his old life, but the neighbour had spotted him as he left that morning and shook his head darkly. Mathe had little desire to get arrested for squatting, and it wouldn’t hurt to spend the night inside.
He looked around to take stock of where he was. The castle loomed to his right, black against the setting sun, putting him on the eastern side of town. He could have gone down into the old quarter to the Dog Ear, but as soon as he considered it, he knew he had little desire to step back into that place again. It was a place for MacBrennan, not for Mathe. Tonight, the West Gate would be good enough. And that it was close to Lilidh’s house was nothing but a fortunate coincidence.
As he passed the main avenue that ran to the castle, Mathe looked up. He’d almost spent more time at the castle than he had at his own home, towards the end of his time here, and the street was as steep and precarious as he remembered. He certainly didn’t envy Lilidh walking up and down every day, and admired her determination in the face of such terrible circumstances.
Circumstances which, of course, could be laid directly at his feet.
As he walked, Mathe stroked his beard and wondered how long he could remain unrecognised. Each time somebody stared at him, his heart quickened. Was it just his height, or did someone see something in his eyes? He felt a prickling between his shoulder blades as he walked and questioned each lingering gaze, his footsteps growing longer as he raced back to the western side of town, ducking into the West Gate without slowing.
The warm air surrounded him and he breathed in with satisfaction. It was certainly a good night to stay indoors, and not just for the strange feeling of being watched. The young man who spoke to him yesterday was still there, and a few tables were occupied. There was a pleasant hum of conversation around him and a fire roared at one end. He felt content with his decision to come here, where at least for one night, he could pretend he was simply just another man.
“Hello again, stranger,” the young man said. “Did ye find Miss MacBrennan?”
“Aye,” Mathe replied. “My thanks for yer help.”
“And what else can I do for ye?”
“Does Rabby Gordon still own the place?” Mathe asked.
“Aye, he does.”
“Is he here? I’d like to speak with him.”
The man shook his head. “Nay, he’ll be back in the morning. He’s down at Castle McPhee trading for fresh goods, but should be back before breakfast.”
Mathe nodded. “In that case, I think I might stay the night. So answering yer question, I’m after a meal and a bed.” He pulled out his coin purse and looked inside.
“And a drink?” the man asked.
Mathe frowned as he counted his coins. “Maybe just the meal and bed, for now.”
“Aye. In that case, welcome to the West Gate. My name is Gilroy, but people call me Gil.”
“Mathe.”
“Are ye hungry now, Mathe?”
“Aye, I wouldnae turn down a meal.”
Gil nodded. “In that case, why dinnae ye take a seat and I’ll have something brought over. I can check ye into yer room after ye’ve finished.”
Mathe nodded. “Sounds fine.”
Gil gestured to an empty table and Mathe sat down, tucking his legs underneath. He’d been walking all day, crisscrossing the town, and it felt good to give his feet a rest. He stretched back and closed his eyes and listened to the surrounding noise, and once again marvelled at things that he would have once taken for granted. It was funny how prison could do that. There were times, alone and in the dark, when Mathe would have traded anything for the chance to sit at a table surrounded by strangers. To listen to snatches of their conversation, to smell the ale in the air, and to feel the warmth of the fire on his cheeks.
Time passed before Gil returned and put a deep bowl in front of him. Mathe looked down and nodded at the sight of a thick mutton stew with roughly chopped carrots and turnips. It was covered with a sprinkling of herbs, and he breathed deeply of the steam that rose in a cloud around him.
“Here’s some water,” the young man said, and put a heavy tankard down.
“My thanks,” Mathe said. “This is hearty fare.”
Gil nodded and left Mathe alone with his meal. For more years than he cared to remember, meals meant gruel three times a day; tasteless oatmeal ground into a grey paste, mixed with water and a hunk of stale bread if he was lucky. At first he had hated it, and almost smiled at the memory of his tantrums at teatime. Of all the terrible things in Mathe’s life, it had been the food that had nearly broken him. Not the darkness, not the isolation, not the same conversations every day with the only three people he ever spoke to.
No, it was the food that brought the first tears that he had shed since he was a lad.
Of course, eventually Mathe grew to accept the tasteless slop as simply another part of a life thrown away. It faded into the background, became part of the routine, and Mathe forgot what good food tasted like. Or even normal food. And although he couldn’t say whether the mutton stew in front of him was objectively good or not, to his taste it was the most amazing thing he’d ever eaten.
He cleaned his plate and washed it down with a long draught of water, then leaned back into his chair with a satisfied sigh. Once again, it was the little things. How many times had MacBrennan eaten a good meal with his mind on other matters, pushing it away and moving to his next task without a second thought? How much of life had Mathe missed because he didn’t think to look for the small things that made it worthwhile?
From behind him, someone slammed a tankard of ale down on his tabletop.
Before Mathe could look up, a body dropped heavily into the chair opposite. The man was old and wiry, with beads and shards of glass in his hair and beard. It was a face Mathe hadn’t seen in a long time, but it hadn’t changed one bit.
“Fergus,” Mathe said.
The old man showed his teeth and took a draught from his own mug.
“To good health,” he said, lifting his tankard.
Mathe slowly reached for the second mug. For many years he’d been acquainted with Fergus when the old man was a soldier in the barracks, but never more than that. He was old even back then, and Mathe was amazed at the lack of change; it was as if time had simply passed him by. He touched his tankard to the other and took a mouthful. “I think that ship has sailed for ye, auld man.”
Fergus shrugged. “I wouldnae talk if I were ye. I almost walked right past ye, and it was only those gangly legs folded up under the table that gave ye away.”
“Luckily for me, it’s no” a crime to grow auld, so at least ye’re no” here to arrest me.”
“And what makes ye think I’m no” here to arrest ye?” Fergus asked with a grin.
“Ye didnae come in through the front door, for one,” Mathe said. “If I was going to be hauled up to the castle, there’d be nay need for discretion. But ye came up from behind me. That means ye were in the West Gate already, which I find to be a remarkable coincidence, or that ye came in through the back door I spied behind the counter, which is more likely. It also means ye want to keep this little chat quiet.”
Fergus nodded. “Aye. And besides, I dinnae arrest people these days.”
“Retired at last?”
Fergus hesitated for a moment. “Actually,” he said, “I’m the steward.”
Mathe frowned in disbelief. “The steward? Of the castle?”
“Acting steward,” the old man admitted, “but, aye.”
“I cannae believe it,” Mathe said. If he had to name the most unlikely character to rise to a role of such importance, Fergus would have been near the top of his list. “Ye are the steward? Who on earth made that decision?”
“Now, now, lad,” Fergus said, “Blaine took a chance, and so far at least, it’s paying off.”
“What does Blaine have to do with it?” Mathe asked with a frown. “Shouldnae it have been Laird Arran’s decision?”
Fergus smiled. “Laird Blaine’s decision, MacBrennan, and he can pick whoever he damn well pleases.”
Mathe leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. “Fergus, it sounds like there’s quite a bit of news that I’ve missed. Ye”re saying Blaine is the laird?”
“Aye,” Fergus said with a nod. “I’m no” here to give ye a history lesson, so the short version is that Arran abdicated and has joined the church. Blaine was the steward, but then he married young Kenzie McPhee and became the new Laird McCaskill, so I’m acting steward.”
Mathe nodded slowly. He had absolutely no intention of getting involved with the McCaskills, but at least he knew Arran. His brother Blaine was more of a mystery. He’d heard rumours in prison of a mighty Highland warrior who was harrying the English down in France and bore the same name, but he’d always shrugged it off. Blaine was a common enough name, and the lad who’d fled from his father so many years ago had nothing about him that spoke of the potential to become a great warrior.
“MacBrennan, why are ye here?” Fergus asked bluntly, taking Mathe out of his thoughts.
“I dinnae see that it’s any of yer business,” he replied.
Fergus shook his head. “No” good enough, and ye know it. Ye”re no” a common farmer or traveler deciding to settle down, and ye dinnae have the right to anonymity. Ye must have known and accepted that before ye came back. So why are ye here?”
“I’m here for my wife.”
“And that’s it?”
“Well,” Mathe said, “my wife and my son.”
“Ye”re no” here to stir up trouble?” Fergus asked.
“Nay. I have nay desire to get mixed up in other people’s affairs, auld man.”
“That doesnae sound like the MacBrennan I remember. If I recall, ye were only too happy to get involved in all sorts of things that shouldnae have concerned ye.”
“Aye, for the laird. But the man I was died in the dark, Fergus. He rotted away in prison, and I left his body behind. I’m here for Lilidh and to make amends for the man I became. And I’m here to keep to myself and no” get involved in things that dinnae concern me.”
“A noble goal,” Fergus remarked, “but I’m going to give ye some advice.”
“I cannae wait to hear it,” Mathe muttered.
“Wake up tomorrow, pack yer things, and walk out of town. North, south, east or west, I care no”, but leave Dun Lagaidh and dinnae ever come back.”
“Ye know,” Mathe said, “that’s the second time I’ve been told that today.”
“Maybe ye should listen.”
“Nay. I told ye, I’m here for Lilidh and the lad. They’ve lived a terrible life since I left, and that’s squarely on me. I willnae - I cannae - let it continue.” Mathe reached his hand across the table and grasped the old man’s wrist. “I need to be a better man, Fergus. I’ve done so much wrong that I dinnae even know where to start, but I owe it to Lilidh, and I cannae walk away now.”
Fergus looked across at him for a long moment in silence. Mathe withdrew his hand and leaned back again in his chair, meeting the old man’s gaze. He had laid himself bare, something that the old MacBrennan would never have done. Would the steward recognise that?
“How do ye plan to help them?” Fergus asked at last. “Do ye have means?”
“Well,” Mathe admitted, scratching his beard, “I’m actually just about out of means. I’ll find honest work, though. I was an apprentice before the auld laird took me in, so perhaps it will come back to me.”
“What kind of apprentice?”
“Woodworking,” Mathe explained. “Up in the sawmill by Glen Knapp.”
“Woodworking, ye say?” Fergus shifted in his seat and looked down with a frown. “These chairs could certainly use some blasted work. As a matter of fact…”
“Aye?”
“We’ve been trying to find quality woodworkers for months, up in the castle. There’s no” many around, since the sawmill closed, so ye might actually find yerself some honest work like ye say.”
Mathe nodded. “Good to know. I’ll think on it.”
“And on that note, I better get myself back up to the castle.” Fergus put his empty tankard down and stood. “Ye know we cannae force ye to leave, MacBrennan. But if ye’ve told me true, and ye’re here for the girl and to keep to yerself, then we shouldnae have any problems.”
“I told ye true,” Mathe replied. “Ye have my word.”
“I cannae rightly say what yer word is worth these days, but I’ll take it for now. Just remember the legacy ye left behind. Some people might no” be verra happy to see ye at all.”
Mathe nodded. “I ken.”
“And some, on the other hand, might be verra happy indeed. But keep to yerself, and all will be well.”
Fergus departed through the front door and Mathe frowned at his parting words. He doubted anybody would be happy to see him, but he also knew that before he came north. He wasn’t here for them, anyway. The only thing that mattered was Lilidh. She was his chance at redemption, and to leave the past behind and be a better man, and in the face of that goal, nothing else mattered.