Chapter Nine #3
The sky pitched and they hadn’t slowed their progress while they rode for MacLaren land. As their walls came into view, the Buchanan soldiers called their war cry ‘Clar Innes’ and bellowed with calls and whoops to alert the MacLarens that they had arrived.
Shadows of men appeared on the barbican above the wall and a man shouted to them. “What do ye here?”
“We are the Buchanans. Tell your laird Breckin is here.”
Silence abounded after he told them who he was.
A flapping of a pennon above the gate sounded, but all else stilled until the creaking of the gate came.
A rider rode through with a handful of soldiers on foot behind him.
The man rode daringly forward until he was a short distance from him and then dismounted.
Breckin recognized John MacLaren’s wispy graying hair and beard. The man stood in front of his horse and shouted, “Buchanan, what do ye here?”
“Ye know why I have come. Tell me… Did ye dare to take arms against my ally, the MacNabs? We Buchanans take it as an insult, aye, and so we have come to ask ye directly.”
“Since when do ye side with the MacNabs?”
“Since I no longer side with ye,” he returned in a shout.
“Cosh, Breckin, there is no need for your hostility,” John said. “’Tis not my fault that ye broke off the betrothal and forced us to consider ye a rival.”
Breckin’s shoulders tensed at the man’s words. “It was not me who rescinded the betrothal, but ye. My da made the pact with ye and I would not have defied my father for any reason. I deem ye are muddleheaded, John. Have ye been long in your cups this day?”
John ambled closer. “You did not break the treaty? Do ye speak the truth?”
“Aye, why would I lie? We received word that ye no longer accepted the betrothal and that it was ended. At the time, my parents’ death plagued me and I gave no care about the broken treaty betwixt our clans.” Breckin shook his head, confounded by what John told him.
“Something is amiss here because I did not break the treaty. I was pleased that Danella was to marry ye and we coveted the union of our clans. Years of negotiations betwixt your da and my clan settled the matter finally. I wanted naught more than to align my clan with yours.”
“If ye did not break it, then who did?” Breckin fisted his hands as ire overtook him and heated him from within.
“I recall that time and I was ailing, aye, and I’d taken to my bed for a good month.
All thought me dead. Och, I wouldst not appease them.
My son handled clan matters whilst I recovered and …
It had to be my son John. I shall speak to him and find out the truth of the matter.
’Tis strange that he would go against me and negate the plan I put into motion.
With the Buchanans as an ally, our clan would have prospered. ”
Breckin shook his head. “It matters not, John, because the treaty was broken and ye have raised arms against my ally. I cannot allow your insolence.”
John stepped back and motioned to his soldiers.
Breckin continued, “If ye take arms against my ally, ’tis as if ye take arms against me.
Ye killed the MacNab sentry on their land and I want to know why.
Tell me why I should not stick my sword in ye, why my soldiers should not attack ye.
” Breckin slowly pulled his sword from its scabbard, provoking John to do the same.
“My son tells me that he did not know they were the MacNab soldiers and thought they were interlopers. And he definitely would not have taken arms against them if he knew they were your ally, which he did not.”
“Your son is holding deceit, MacLaren. If there is anyone to blame for this atrocity, ’tis him. Mayhap ye should find out what he intends because if I get to him first, he shall exist no longer.”
Breckin sheathed his sword, retreated to his soldiers that awaited him in the distance, well beyond the keep’s high walls. He stood next to Gideon and recounted his conversation with John MacLaren. “I believe him not.” He turned to his commander-at-arms. “Should we skewer them or let them be?”
“Ye know my answer to that, Laird.” Gideon set his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist and nodded as if all Breckin had to do was give word for a battle to commence. He chuckled lightly. “Still, I do not wish to bloody my garments, do ye?”
Gideon shook his head with a scoff. “I suppose not. Och, the men will be displeased, though, if we leave without shedding a wee bit of blood. We have come all this way.”
“My thoughts exactly. Very well, Gideon, tell the men to draw their swords. We shall remind the MacLarens that we are to be feared. Och, no lives are to be taken. Let us give the MacLarens some wounds to lick, though.”
“Damnation, Laird, the men will be disappointed to give them paltry nicks. I shall tell them to hold back. Ye are being a mite merciful.”
Breckin wanted to laugh but nodded. “Perhaps I am, och I find I’m in a good-minded mood.” He flashed a smile at his comrade and chuckled.
Gideon chortled. “I’d say, Laird, that marriage might be agreeing with ye.”
He bellowed then and slapped his commander on the shoulder. With a yank to his sword, he drew it from the sheath across his back. “Damn me, I believe it does agree with me, Gideon. I find my heart is not in it, this fight with the MacLarens, och I will give it my best effort.”
Breckin waved on his men and marched beside them as they moved in to confront their enemy.