Chapter Twenty
Rob strode into the large chamber that he used as a solar and found them waiting for him.
Along with the elders, Symon and Dougal sat stone-faced and silent.
Brother Finlay entered just behind him, carrying his usual leather satchel with documents, quills, ink and a sharp knife with which to scrape off old used parchments for reuse.
A guard closed the door and Rob looked at each man there.
‘Symon mentioned an agreement with the MacKenzies. I know of no such thing,’ he began. ‘How is that?’ Then he crossed his arms and waited for someone to answer his question.
He knew he was being manoeuvred and manipulated, but he did not think Symon intelligent enough to do that. His outburst was a perfect example of how he acted—too fast, too loud and too much. Subtlety was lost on him. Looking around at the others, he tried to decide who could be the one.
‘My lord,’ Brother Finlay began, ‘I found this in your father’s papers. Since you were...ahem...involved in some matter, I showed it to Lord Symon.’ Involved in the carnal knowledge of a certain lady was what Brother Finlay did not say, but they understood what had caught Rob’s attention lately.
If he trusted Symon as a chief should trust his tanist, Rob might have felt differently about that. But Symon’s interference and attempts to push him in only one direction broke what trust they might have had at one time.
Rob took the parchment and walked away from the table, reading it.
Although it was not a formal treaty, this did make a preliminary proposal and an agreement to proceed with one.
It was written by his father’s clerk and signed by the laird himself and the marks matched the others of his father’s that he’d seen.
‘Why was this not among my father’s other documents?
Among the ones I have in my possession.’
‘I know not, my lord,’ the cleric answered with a shrug. ‘I found it in one of the trunks that Brother Donal left when he returned to the abbey. I assumed you knew of it, but with all this talk about treaties and war with the MacLeries, I thought it best to bring it to your attention.’
‘And when did you bring this to the tanist?’ he asked. Symon began to speak, but Rob waved him off.
‘Only yesterday, my lord.’ Brother Finlay, a large man, wiped at his sweating brow with the sleeve of his brown robe. ‘As I said, all this talk...’
‘Does anyone in this room have knowledge of a formal treaty with the MacKenzies?’ he asked quietly and then he waited to give someone, anyone, a chance to answer. When none did, he continued. ‘Has anyone been in contact with the MacKenzie laird or others since my father died?’
‘Rob, you know I have spoken to my father’s cousins there,’ Symon replied. ‘My support of that is not unknown.’
He laughed then at Symon’s understated and unexpected admission.
‘I think we all know of your support to break from the MacLeries.’ He stopped smiling and waited.
‘Any of you have anything to add?’ When they did not, when no one else spoke, Rob leaned on the table with his knuckles and shared his knowledge of Connor’s methods with them.
‘If we are to get out of this situation that Symon has put us in and if we are to get out well enough to continue negotiating with the MacKenzies as you all seem wont to do, I need to know if there will be any other surprises or disclosures. I asked for gold for Lady
MacGregor’s return and will negotiate her release under those conditions.’
Symon began to argue, but Rob would not hear it.
‘You kidnapped her and brought her here, Symon. Though I did not give the orders for that action, as laird and chief, you act on my behalf. I am responsible for what you’ve done.
’ Rob stood up and glared at his cousin.
‘It is the way of it, Symon! Now, I ask one last time—have promises of any kind been made to the MacKenzie laird?’
Silence filled the chamber for several moments.
‘Very well,’ Rob said. ‘I will meet with the MacLerie peacemaker and see if he can work out a peace between us.’
Rob stood near the door, signalling that this meeting was done and watched as each one left. He asked Dougal to remain and then he grabbed Symon’s arm.
‘Cousin. Did you have something else to say?’ Something had flashed in Symon’s eyes at his last question, but his cousin had said nothing. He just pulled from his grasp and left.
‘That went well, did it not?’ Dougal asked with a smirk on his face.
‘Symon or the whole discussion?’ Rob asked.
Dougal walked over to a table in the corner and poured two cups of ale. After he handed one to Rob, he backed up a pace and asked. ‘So, will you really return the lady to her family?’
‘Aye.’ Rob drank most of the ale in one swallow. When Dougal said nothing more, he turned and faced him. ‘I did not bring her here, Dougal.’
‘I did not think you had,’ he replied. Watching him over the rim of the cup, he said, ‘But it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you are not unhappy she is here and sharing your bed.’
Though Rob wanted to pummel him for bringing up such a thing, he decided not to protest too much. ‘She is, as it turns out, a lonely widow.’
‘You insult the lady’s honour, Rob,’ Dougal said in an angry voice.
‘And you seem to forget that we have been friends for many years. I saw you when you returned from Lairig Dubh.’ Dougal drank again without taking his gaze off Rob.
‘And I spent three days with you when your father told you of her marriage. You are a talkative drunk, in case you did not know it.’
He’d been a ranting lunatic in those days. Dougal probably did remember more of it than he did. His friend had taken him somewhere to suffer through it where no one else could be privy to his pain. Or to any of the truth that caused it.
‘It cannot be, Dougal. Connor objected then and he’ll object now—especially with the way this began. There is no way that does not threaten this clan.’
‘If you say so.’ Dougal finished his ale and put the cup down. ‘You still suspect Symon’s motives.’
‘Something does not fit, Dougal. He wanted, he wants, to be chief. He wants this clan to be taken seriously and be allies with the best. Some of his actions just do not make any sense.’ Rob thought on the day they’d gone riding across the farmlands and villages.
‘His suggestions were well thought out and are good ones. They would improve the way we do many things with our crops. His defensive strategies are the same. You said his ideas were intelligent when you travelled with him the other day.’
‘Yet he acts out of turn.’
‘Aye. As though like an angry dog that has been poked in the eye by someone with a large stick.’ Rob shook his head. ‘I put two men on him. Mayhap they will see or hear something to explain it.’
‘Laird?’ The guard spoke from the doorway. ‘The lady asks for permission to visit with her maid.’
‘Is it a good idea, Rob? To have her roaming through the keep when the MacLeries are at our gates?’
‘She is less trouble when she is kept busy, Dougal. Since there is only one way into that chamber, it is easily guarded.’ Rob nodded at the guard. ‘She may go there now and stay until I say so.’
The guard went off to relay the order.
‘And when her mother asks to see her again?’ Dougal asked.
Rob smiled. Lady MacLerie was not difficult to understand.
She was here for her daughter and wanted to be with her as much as possible.
Would the lady talk her daughter out of his bed if he allowed them to keep company together?
Rob shrugged against the inevitable and his friend laughed at him as he left to see to another matter.
Rob called a servant in to ready this chamber for the MacLeries’ arrival.
It was large and private, a good place to hold their talks.
Though there would be food and drink provided, it would not be a shared meal, so Rob went off to the kitchens to eat something more substantial before the negotiations began.
And, if he happened to catch a glimpse of Lilidh as she passed through on her way to Isla, well, that was good too. There would be so few days left to them now and he would take advantage of every hour of them.
* * *
Symon left Rob and went to see his sister.
So many things did not make sense now. Rob did not reject his ideas as Tyra said he would—not about defence or even about changes to some of the farms. So, as he approached her chamber, he decided that he was not so opposed to some of the things Rob wanted to do.
And he would tell Tyra exactly that.
Walking through the hall and up to the tower that held their chambers, Symon realised that Tyra was beginning to overstep her place. He’d heard about her striking Lilidh MacLerie and leaving a mark. If she’d stayed away from Rob’s chambers as he’d ordered, that would not have happened.
He knocked and entered without waiting. She should be waiting on him since he’d told her he would come directly here after meeting with Rob and the elders. Instead of her maids attending her, a man he did not know stood there speaking to her.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, walking towards them. He’d not seen the man before. ‘What business do you have here?’
‘Symon, this is Connell from the stables. My horse has thrown a shoe and injured her leg. Connell was bringing me news of what needs to be done.’ Tyra ushered the man out as Symon watched. Once the door was closed, he berated her.
‘Where are your maids? He should not be here in your chambers without a chaperon of some kind. Servant or not.’
‘Aye, you are right, Symon,’ Tyra said, nodding her head.
‘The maids left but a moment before you arrived. I am surprised you did not pass them in the corridor.’ She filled a cup and offered it to him.
‘Sit and tell me what happened?’ When he sat in one of the chairs, she knelt down before him and sat on her heels, looking up at him.
‘He was angry about me speaking in front of the
MacLeries,’ he began.