Chapter 27
Mathe winced as he put weight on his leg, holding onto the bed frame tightly. The heavier he leant, the more the pain turned from a dull ache to a sharp stabbing through his upper thigh. With a gasp, he lifted his leg once more.
“Any better?” Lilidh asked.
“A little,” he said, “but I still cannae walk on it.”
“The physician said he’d bring ye a walking cane today to try out.”
“Aye, I cannae wait. Let’s try again.”
Lilidh steadied him, with both hands on his waist, and once more Mathe let his leg drop to the floor. As soon as it bore weight, the pain returned in earnest, and he began to sweat even in the cool room. Rodric Ross’s makeshift spear had missed the bone and the major arteries, but it had still gone straight through the thigh muscle. His leg was bound tight, but when they changed the bandages, he could see the angry wound. The physician seemed happy, though; no sign of infection. At that, Mathe supposed he was lucky. An infection could have easily seen him lose the leg altogether.
As they went through the exercises, the door opened and Laird Blaine McCaskill entered the room. It was the first time Mathe had seen him since he woke. Lilidh gave him a curtsy, then excused herself to check on Fynn.
“Our physician seems happy with yer progress,” the laird remarked.
“Good to know,” Mathe said, “because to me it seems that I’m making no” much progress at all.”
“Aye. I took an injury once, down in France.” Blaine held his left arm out and he saw an old scar. “It was right before I came back home. I remember feeling the same; every day, for weeks, I’d wake up and go through the exercises. It works, eventually, but ye have to trust the process.”
Mathe nodded. “I dinnae suppose I have much choice if I want to walk again.”
“Verra true. I’m here to give ye an update on things in town. And I suppose ye have a few questions for me, too.”
“More than a few,” Mathe admitted.
“The good news is, that although Rodric Ross died of his injuries, we picked up the accomplice that ye”d so thoughtfully left for us in the cellar.”
“Duncan,” Mathe said. He remembered felling the man with his chisel; he was certain he’d killed him.
“Aye, Duncan. He woke up two nights ago, so we’ve been keeping ourselves busy. No” torture,” he added quickly. “I prefer to offer incentives rather than punishment. The dungeons of Dun Lagaidh are a legacy of my father, and I refuse to use them in such a way. Thankfully for us, once Duncan realised Rodric was dead, he was only too happy to talk. We learned a great deal, in fact, both about ye, and about the threat to the McCaskills.”
“How did they know about me?” Mathe asked. It was a question that had been burning in his mind ever since he woke. How had Rodric known everything?
“They had ye watched,” Blaine explained. “From the minute ye came back. Someone recognised ye at the gates, and word travelled back to them.”
“Right from the start?” Mathe asked.
“Aye, right from the start.” Blaine shook his head. “We thought we were being so clever, by asking ye to help. It turns out they saw it all; my arrival at the West Gate, ye coming up to the castle, yer meetings with Fergus. All of it. The whole time, we thought we were deceiving them.”
“But they were deceiving us,” Mathe said.
“Aye.” Blaine looked down with a deep frown. “Mathe, I’m sorry. I see this as my fault. Perhaps we should have been more careful and assumed the worst.” He looked up then, and Mathe could see his face was drawn with guilt. “Or perhaps we shouldnae have involved ye at all.”
“That explains why I always felt like I was being watched,” Mathe said. “I could never find anyone, though, so put it down to simple nervousness.”
“Aye, well,” Blaine said, “that could have been us, as well.”
“Ye?”
“I’m sorry, Mathe, but I was also having ye watched. Well, I should say I was having the West Gate and yer wife’s house watched.”
Mathe nodded at the revelation. “I cannae blame ye,” he said. “Although it now feels that half the town was watching me, and I still didnae spot anyone.”
Blaine gave a quick smile. “I have the benefit of requisitioning buildings for my men to hide in. Anyway, the end result was that they knew from the start that ye were involved with us, but they just didnae know how, or why.”
“Rodric acted like he knew everything,” Mathe mused. “Down in the cellar. But I got the feeling he was bluffing. He kept trying to get me to explain things to him in my own words.”
Blaine nodded. “Duncan tells me they’re a splintered group, with some of them advocating action, and others wanting to hide in the shadows to build their strength. Nay doubt this worked in yer favour; nobody trusted each other, so yer sudden reappearance must have made things worse. Some thought ye were only pretending to be working with the castle; some sort of double-double cross. Each group suspected the other of some sort of treachery.”
“Such tales seem far less likely than the simple truth.”
“It often is,” Blaine replied.
“Was Rodric their leader?” Mathe asked.
“Nay, although he was a leader of sorts,” Blaine said. “He was leading the group who wanted to retreat into the shadows and build strength. In fact, he was planning to use ye as proof that I was closing in on them. Duncan tells me he was going to string ye along until the truth came out, but then ye donned yer auld outfit, and forced his hand.”
Mathe shook his head. “The whole point of the outfit was to force their hand, although it was supposed to force it into action against ye, no” me. It’s almost ironic, in a way.”
“Aye. Ye shone a torchlight directly on them, by going back to the Dog Ear the way ye did, dressed as MacBrennan. Enough for them to take a risk by kidnapping ye in broad daylight. Rodric needed ye gone, and quickly, before they lost their chance to stay hidden in the shadows. Which was lucky for us, because I had soldiers watching Mrs MacBrennan’s house, and they alerted us to yer capture.”
“I overheard Duncan telling Rodric that the streets were full of soldiers.”
Blaine nodded. “We put soldiers into the streets, and fortunately yer wife helped us narrow down yer location. Do ye remember calling out Rodric’s name when ye were captured?”
Mathe recalled the strange memory he had of waking in the sack, screaming, and being knocked out once more. “I think,” he admitted. “I vaguely recall shouting out.”
“Well, Lilidh remembered her neighbour, and the way he always sits outside. Fergus went down there and the man gave us what we needed; the name of Rodric Ross.” Blaine shook his head. “And to think the man used to work in the castle. Anyway, once we had that name, it was quick enough work to learn he was the owner of the Dog Ear, and get down there. Sorry we were late.”
“I cannae complain,” Mathe said. “Ye saved my life, and for that I thank ye.”
Blaine nodded. “I could say the same to ye.”
Mathe frowned. “I thought ye only had Duncan? Sounds like ye needed more than that.”
“Duncan is quite the talker, as I said. He knew enough to lead us to the next man, who led us to the next. We have seven men being held in the castle as we speak, and the noose is tightening on the others. It’s amazing what people will do when they think everyone else has revealed the truth.”
Mathe felt the first stirrings of hope within his breast. He’d meant every word that he’d spoken to Lilidh, and thoroughly regretted his decision to work with Blaine, but was there a chance that he’d still fulfilled his terms of the bargain? “Blaine, does that mean -?”
“Nay,” Blaine interrupted. “Ye willnae be getting a house in the town.”
Mathe sank down onto the bed in disappointment. “Aye.”
Blaine looked at him for a long moment, then his face broke into a warm smile. “Because I have something else in mind. Ye might even say something better.” Then he stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll tell ye more tomorrow, but for now, ye have another guest.”
And with that he swept out of the room, leaving the door open. Mathe looked out curiously, and after a moment, a small face appeared around the doorframe.
“Hello, Fynn,” Mathe said. “Why dinnae ye come in?”
The boy approached slowly, almost uncertainly, looking at his bandaged leg with wide eyes.
“It’s alright, lad,” Mathe said. “It looks worse than it is.”
“It looks pretty bad,” Fynn said.
He smiled. It hurt like the devil, but he wasn’t about to let the boy know that. “I’ll be up and walking again before ye know it.”
“I heard the pa - the pha -”
“The physician?” Mathe offered.
“Aye, that one. He told mama that ye might have to walk with a stick from now on.”
Mathe nodded. “Maybe. We willnae know until I start walking again, but ye know what? If the worst that I get out of this is a limp and a stick, then I should count myself lucky.”
“When mama told me ye”d hurt yerself, I was scared for ye,” Fynn admitted, and in his eyes Mathe could see tears form. It was so easy to forget that the lad was only six. At times he seemed so much older. The entire ordeal must have been frightening for him.
“Come here,” Mathe said, pulling the blanket away. Fynn climbed onto the bed and lay next to him, and Mathe pulled the covers up once more and wrapped his arms around the boy. He was warm and seemed so small in his arms. Mathe could feel Fynn’s heartbeat, and the rapid thump of his own heart. He lay with him for long moments and closed his eyes and found that he had grown to love him with all of his heart.
Fynn was his son, and Mathe was damn well going to be a good father.
“Lad,” he said, clearing his throat, “there’s something I want to speak to ye about.”
“Aye?” The boy lifted his head and Mathe could see the trails of tears down his face.
“It’s about yer father.”
Fynn frowned. “I dinnae have a father.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Mathe said gently. “Ye do have a father.”
As he watched, Fynn’s eyes widened. “Mathe, are ye going to be my new father?”
He almost laughed. The boy was close, but not quite there yet. Instead, he shook his head. “Nay, Fynn, I willnae be yer new father.”
“Oh,” the boy replied, his face dropping. For a moment he looked so sad, so forlorn, that Mathe regretted his answer. Perhaps he should have used a little more tact, but, well, he was all rather new to this type of thing.
“But,” he said, “that’s because I’m yer auld father.”
Fynn looked at him in confusion. “I dinnae ken.”
“I’m yer father, lad,” Mathe explained. “No” yer new father, but yer actual father. I had to leave before ye were born, and it took me this long to get back.”
“So ye were my father this whole time?” he asked slowly.
Mathe nodded. “Aye, this whole time. And I’m sorry I didnae tell ye sooner. I was worried, ye see. I thought maybe ye wouldnae want to be my son, or have me as yer father.”
Fynn grew silent and Mathe’s heart beat faster. Was the boy upset with him, or angry? He supposed he couldn’t blame either one of those things, or a hundred other reactions besides. Yes, he was the father, but what a rotten father he’d turned out to be. He’d done nothing but make life hard for his wife and his son and then came home to nearly ruin it all over again. He steeled himself for Fynn’s accusations or his denials, and told himself that whatever he got, it was all that he deserved.
Instead, to his surprise, Fynn buried his head into Mathe’s neck and squeezed him tight.
“May I call ye papa?” the boy asked.
At those words, Mathe suddenly sobbed. His eyes stung, and he squeezed them shut, feeling the tears force their way out as he held Fynn close. Finally he relaxed and let them flow, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried with such abandon. He rocked the boy and nodded, overcome with love and gratitude.
What had he ever done to deserve this?
“Aye, son, ye may call me papa,” he said through his tears.
The door opened once more and Lilidh entered. She paused in the doorway and looked down at the two of them on the bed, holding each other tightly, and at the tears running down Mathe’s cheeks. He could see her own eyes grow red at the sight.
“My husband, and my son,” she murmured.
“Together at last, and for evermore,” Mathe replied.
Fynn turned to look up at her, breaking into a smile. “Mama, did ye know Mathe was my papa all along?”
Lilidh laughed. “Believe it or no”, Fynn, I did know that.”
“Oh,” he said, his face falling a little. “Why didnae ye tell me?”
“We wanted to surprise ye, bhobain, that’s all.”
Fynn nodded as if this were the most sensible thing in the world. “Well, it was certainly a surprise.”
“Are ye happy?”
“Oh, I’m so happy,” he said. “That means I can help papa every day, cannae I? We can make things together, and fix things, and I willnae be alone anymore when ye’re at work.”
“Aye, that’s right,” Mathe answered. “I’m getting auld, anyway, and it’s about time I had an assistant. If ye’re up to it, of course.”
Fynn sat up. “Of course! I’m strong, didnae ye know?” And with that he flexed his little arms and Mathe couldn’t help but laugh. Over the boy’s head he saw his wife watching them, a smile on her face, and once again asked himself what he’d done to deserve this. Did second chances exist?