Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Grace rushed through the passage back to her husband’s work room, where she found him comparing two parchments covered with neatly written lists and frowning.
As seneschal he was responsible for overseeing the stronghold like her as well as the clan’s male vassals, just as she was for the female vassals.
He gave her a fond smile as he rolled up the scrolls and got to his feet.
“Did you finish your meal already? I meant to come and sit with you,” Farlan said.
“The insects that are coming in from the outside don’t have bones,” she said quickly. “Their skeletons are their shells. That’s also why the trap keeps them out.”
“Only they’re still getting inside once they’re enchanted,” he reminded her.
“I know.” She took hold of his hands. ‘What if that’s how Bodach is getting in here?
By wearing some kind of enchanted shell?
” When his expression grew puzzled she added, “My grandmother tossed her locket back to my time, and it was fourteen carat gold. Ava told me about the butterfly guy she saw when she first came here, and how it had silver wings. Precious metals must be able to pass through the barrier.”
He nodded slowly. “’Tis possible, but how should…
” He stopped as he realized what she was saying, and embraced her briefly.
“You’re as brilliant as you’re beautiful, my sunshine.
” When he drew back he said, “I dinnae ken how much silver the clan possesses. We must go and speak to Rory, for he keeps stock of all the metals at Dun Talamh.”
Grace hurried with him first to the armory, and then to the forge, but didn’t find the big man in either room. Farlan checked with every guard they passed until one reported seeing the armorer accompanying Darro into the lists.
“They sometimes spar together, for they’re the only near-match for each other among the clan,” her husband told her.
She didn’t know what to expect as they walked out into the large yard where the garrison held drills and sparring matches.
Dozens of clansmen had gathered around the center circle, where the chieftain and the armorer grappled without weapons.
From their sweaty, blood-streaked bodies they’d been at it for some time, too.
“Make way,” Farlan said, wading through the men and tugging her along after him.
They reached the edge of the circle just in time to see Rory catch Darro in a brutal hold and flip him onto his back.
The impact made dirt from the hard-packed ground shoot up ten feet in the air.
Before the armorer could pin him the chieftain rolled away, staggering up in time to take a punch to the nose, which sent him sprawling a second time.
“Do they have to practice that hard?” Grace murmured, a little shocked by the clansmen’s ferocity.
“Rory’s in a mood, I reckon,” her husband said, his brow furrowing. “Aye, and Darro as well. ’Tis best they beat it out of each other.” He saw how she glared at him and chuckled. “Men shall ever brawl, my sunshine. Better to do thus with a brother than a foe.”
“Ya basta!” a furious, high voice shouted as Rory went to loom over Darro. When he leaned down to help the chieftain up, Esme burst through the men with a large log, rushed up behind the armorer, and used the wood to club the big man over the back of his skull. “Don’t you touch him again.”
Everyone fell silent as Rory stood up, swung around, looked at Esme and then toppled over and went still.
“Mi vida, are you okay?” The journalist hurled herself down beside Darro, putting her arm around his shoulders.
As he stared at her she looked around at the other men.
“Well? Aren’t you going to lock up that one in the dungeon or whatever?
” She made a curt gesture at the unconscious armorer.
“You saw how he attacked the chieftain and made him bleed. Why didn’t any of you stop him? ”
“Let me handle this,” Grace said quietly to her husband. “See if Rory’s okay.”
She cautiously approached Esme, who was using her sleeve to wipe the blood and sweat from Darro’s face while she scolded him.
“I thought you always carried that big sword with you, mi vida,” she said, brushing back his tangled hair from his brow.
“You need to do that so big apes like him can’t jump you.
Next time, you stick him where it hurts, okay?
” She bent down and kissed his brow before she looked up at Grace.
“Was it another attack? Are there more of them?”
“It was not an attack. This was fighting practice.” She explained quickly how the clan used the lists to keep the men in fighting shape, and how individual matches in the sparring circles allowed the warriors to hone their skills.
“I know it must have looked very real to you, but they weren’t fighting in earnest.”
“What do you call this, Grace?” Esme showed her the blood soaking her inner sleeve. “Fake? He hit him in the nose so hard I heard it break from over there.”
“She speaks truth, Mistress Martinez,” Darro said, and helped her to her feet as he stood. “I thank you for your concern, but ’twasnae dangerous for me.”
“Not dangerous. Not dangerous?” She gave his arm a furious slap, making him jump.
“Do you know how scared I was when I saw you fall, you stupid man, and that big ape standing over you? You’re covered with cuts and bruises and now a broken nose.
How is that practice fighting when you bleed?
” She slapped his chest. “I liked your nose not broken. How could you be such an idiot?”
“’Tisnae broken,” he assured her, and got slapped on the shoulder.
“You think that makes it better?” Esme demanded. “Why can’t you do something nice instead of hurting each other? Isn’t it bad enough you have to fight these things that come back no matter how many times you kill them?”
Grace heard a muffled groan come from Rory and put her arm around Esme. “Let’s take this inside, shall we?”
“If I did wrong, I should apologize first.” She went over to Rory and Farlan, and peered down at him.
“Hey, big man. Sorry I made a mistake and clubbed you over the head. I didn’t know you were just play-fighting.
Only I don’t like the way you play fight.
” She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you ever punch Chieftain Darro like that again, or you’ll answer to me, okay? ”
The armorer nodded meekly. “As you wish, my lady,” he murmured lowly.
Grace watched Esme stalk back into the stronghold, and then saw the smiles starting to spread on the faces of the clansmen around the circle.
“It isn’t funny,” she said firmly, but the chuckling had already begun.
“No brother ever prevailed over our youngest,” one of the bigger patrollers said. “No’ even Chieftain Darro. No’ once. And now that wee lass lays him out cold.”
“With a log near as big as she stands,” the man next to him put in, glancing in the direction Esme had gone. "We should make her a guard for the laird.”
“She’s a strong and sneaky thing, lads,” Sawney said, and elbowed one of the wall watchers. “Best you watch for her and the MacBren.”
Rory finally got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head and then grimacing at his bloodied palm before he sighed.
“Mayhap you should spar with the wee dark lass, Chieftain,” he said to Darro. “She’s more than a match for me.”
Grace expected the laird’s brother would laugh it off, but instead he walked over and bowed to Rory.
“The match, ’tis yours,” he said, his tone stiff, and then retreated into the stronghold.
“Why did he do that?” she asked her husband.
He gave her a wry look. “Pride wouldnae permit him accept a victory delivered by a female hardly larger than his boot, my love.”
Farlan went with her and Rory to the infirmary, where Ben examined the wound on the back of the armorer’s skull and extracted a few splinters left by the log. The armorer sat very still and silent, and stared down at the floor as if mortified.
“That little journalist did this?” the healer asked as he applied some salve. “She’s barely five feet tall. How could she reach that high?”
Farlan cleared his throat. “She waited until he bent over.”
“Smart girl. Alec ought to recruit her for the garrison.” Ben wrapped his head in a bandage before he said, “It will be sore until tomorrow morning when the enchantment heals it. If you want something for the headache, I can mix up a feverfew and lavender poultice. I’ve also some willow bark tea if you’d like something faster. ”
“I’ll drink the brew, please.” Once Ben went over to his medicine shelf Rory regarded Grace and Farlan. “You neednae stay, Brother, my lady. ’Tis but a lump and a bad cut.”
“That’s not why we’re staying,” she admitted, and then told him about the discussion they’d had about insects during the morning meal. “It reminded me of the reports of the silver-winged butterfly some people saw when Ava first arrived here.”
He nodded. “’Twas likely enchanted to lay eggs in the gardens, which hatched into those caterpillars that attacked us.”
“I think the wings of the butterfly were replaced by, or maybe encased in, silver metal so it would fool the spell trap into allowing it inside,” she said.
“Just as my grandmother’s gold locket was able to pass out of the spell trap when she first came here.
The barrier may not be able to stop precious metals. ”
“’Tis unlikely, but we may easily find out.
” Rory stiffened. “Ah, now I see. You wish to ken how much silver and gold we’ve in our stores.
Before the curse, the clan paid our debts after the harvest, and didnae yet collect what others owed us.
I fear ’tis but a few ingots of each—no’ enough to encase a mortal. ”
“If you make the silver and gold into something else, the enchantment, ’twill replace it,” Farlan said. “How long might you need to acquire enough gold to encase me?”