Chapter 12
12
Two Months Later…
“But mah laird. Tis mah land and he’s letting his goats graze on mah grass. I need that for mah animals!”
Ian gripped the sides of his chair as he listened to the farmer continue to whine while his neighbor stood silently. All morning it had been requests such as this, for Ian to settle disputes amongst his clan.
He was irritated, tired of listening to their words. “Enough,” he barked out, rising from his chair. The farmer paled and took a few steps backward at Ian’s imposing stature, but blissfully remained silent. “The grass,” Ian continued, tapping his fingers against his chin. “Does it really belong tae ye?”
“A, aye,” the farmer stammered. “It does mah laird.”
Ian arched a brow. “Actually I believe the grass belongs tae mah. Yer farms belong tae mah. Yer animals belong tae mah.”
“Mah laird,” the farmer interrupted but Ian silenced him with a hard look.
“Stephan,” Ian called out to his brother, waiting until he approached the trio. “Will ye go out tae their farms and burn them tae the ground?”
“Wait!” the complaining farmer shouted. “Ye, tis mah entire livelihood in that farm!”
“Mah laird, please,” the other farmer stated, paling. “I have bairns tae feed.”
“Then why are ye both here filling my ears with this trivial concern?” Ian fought back, his tone hard. “Ye both have fine farms that serve yer laird well. Ye both have families that donna care if one goat eats another’s grass. Learn tae get along or I will come out mahself and set fire tae wot ye hold dear. Understood?”
Both men looked properly chastised and murmured their agreements before exiting the hall. Ian fell back into the chair with a huff, rubbing his temples. “How many more?”
“A half a dozen or more,” Stephan said cheerfully. “But I think after that discussion, they will all be running for the hills.”
Ian swore, leaning back on the chair. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper, but it seemed that all anyone wanted to do was argue about trivial things such as goats eating the wrong grass and grain bags that weren’t filled to the brim. How his da had dealt with such things in the past, Ian never knew.
“Here,” Stephan stated, thrusting a cup in Ian’s direction. “Drink this. Ye have a council meeting in a few moments.”
Ian drained the cup, the ale sliding down his throat and put the empty cup aside. The council meeting was important to him, a chance for them to discuss their next steps with the MacGregor clan. He had wanted to discuss it the moment he had gotten back on Wallace land two months ago, but instead, he had found the clan in disarray. Stephan had attempted to keep the peace while Ian was gone, but the wall had finally crumbled, taking out one of the wings of the keep with it. The river had been blocked by fallen trees downstream, leaving part of the farms on the west side of his lands without water. It had taken weeks for them to clear the trees so that the water would flow once more.
It had taken four weeks for him to get the wall and keep set back to rights, all the while dealing with the day-to-day concerns of his clan.
Perhaps the most disturbing thing that had happened over the last week was that a war party wearing MacGregor colors had been spotted not far from the Wallace border. Only words were exchanged, but Ian worried that next time his clan would be engaging in more than just a few harsh words.
He had to convince the council to allow him to try and establish the alliance once more. If they kept the peace against the MacGregors, then they would have to reciprocate that notion, but Ian wanted to make certain that Laird MacGregor understood his stance first.
Pushing out of his chair, he straightened his tunic, running his hand through his hair.
“Och are ye gonna preen or go speak tae them?” Stephan teased, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m preparing mahself,” Ian shot back with his own grin. “But it never hurts tae look good doing it.”
Stephan shook his head, a low chuckle coming from him. “Iris would tell ye tae take yer arse in there and get the job done.”
Och, Ian wished that his sister was present. She had a way to give him the strength to fight. Iris had always been a lass not to give up herself, fighting against what others thought was a weakness with her being of the female form. Ian had greatly admired his sister.
This, though, he would have to do by himself if he wanted to see her on MacGregor land again.
Without another word to his brother, Ian made his way to the council room, stepping inside. At once, the entire room stood and pressed their fists over their hearts, a sign of respect for Ian’s title. Dalziel was there as well, his eyes following Ian’s every move as he should as the captain of the guard. After their discussion on the MacGregor land, Dalziel had kept his distance from Ian, only making an appearance to give the reports that were required.
It was Dalziel that had reported to Ian about the war party and what he truly wished to do. “I want yer permission tae track them down,” he had said that afternoon as Ian had listened to his report. “We have tae not show weakness.”
“Nay,” Ian had answered. “I want peace, not bloodshed. Let them be unless they attack anyone on our land.” Dalziel had shown his displeasure but in the end, he had heeded Ian’s words and not engaged with the war party.
“Be seated,” Ian said as he took his chair in the center of the long table, his brother positioning himself over his left shoulder.
The room seated themselves and Ian poured himself some ale before speaking. “I called ye here tae discuss the alliance with the MacGregor clan.”
“But they dinna wish tae have an alliance,” one of his council members spoke up. “Why would we waste our time tae discuss that?”
“Because,” Ian said, keeping his irritation at bay for now. “I donna wish tae watch any more of our clansmen be cut down by a sword. I want tae see our bairns grow without the threat of war in their lives.”
There was the clearing of throats around him, some sidelong glances, but Ian maintained his calm nature, knowing he was facing an uphill battle. “Donna ye wish for the same? Donna ye wish that yer grandchildren will never know the pain of losing someone tae some senseless battle?”
“The battle is never senseless,” Dalziel spoke up, his gaze narrowing. “They are our enemies. We must strike before they have a chance tae take advantage of us.”
“I agree,” one of the council members spoke up. Ian knew who he was. He had lost three sons in the various battles over the years, the last one cut down while riding next to Ian. He had every reason to hate the MacGregor clan, every reason. “We must strike before they can take more of our sons, our daughters.”
“And then wot?” Ian asked softly. “Wot happens when we defeat them only tae lose the next time? Do ye wish tae always have to worry about protecting our borders, our farms, our future?”
The room fell silent and Ian could see that some were thinking of his words. It would never stop until one clan stood against another, demanding peace. Ian wished to try again. He had learned more about what it meant to be a laird, what Laird MacGregor was dealing with day in and day out. They could find some common ground.
He was sure of it. “Give mah one more chance,” he begged them. “Let mah try.”
“We will vote,” the eldest council advisor announced. “Let it be known who is in favor of the laird’s request?”
Ian watched with bated breath as hands went up around the room, though Dalziel’s stayed at his side. The advisor counted the hands and then banged his weathered hand on the table. “Mah laird, ye have our blessing. May the gods be on yer side.”
Ian could hardly contain his excitement as he exited the council room, catching up with his brother. “I need for ye tae come with mah this time,” he told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “And Remy as well.”
“Dalziel should come,” Stephan added. “He should make the formal apology still.”
Ian frowned, remembering the insults that his captain had hurled at the laird two months prior. While he had demanded that Dalziel apologize to the laird and his council, they had been forced to leave before the captain had gotten a chance. “Tis will be much more difficult with him there. He should stay behind.”
Stephan shook his head. “Nay Ian. He needs tae be there and hear what the laird says. He needs tae show that he is on yer side and prove his allegiance.” Stephan took a step back. “I’m not so certain that he is.”
Ian had thought the same, just not aloud. “Fine,” he forced out. “He can accompany us but the moment he starts anything, I will run mah sword through him. And ye are coming with us.”
Stephan chuckled. “I’m glad ye are asking mah tae join ye. I want tae meet this lass of yers.”
Ida. Ian swallowed hard as he thought of her lovely face and what she must be thinking of him being gone for so long. She invaded his dreams regularly and was not far from his thoughts during the day. Would she remember him at all?
Would she wish to see him or had his absence forced her to move on with her life? How would he react if he went back and she had found a husband? “She’s not mah lass.”
“But she could be,” Stephan replied. “Ye havena looked at another lass since ye returned Ian. Tis clear tae mah that she occupies yer thoughts more than ye care tae admit.”
Aye, his brother was not wrong on that account either.
“She’s the laird’s niece,” Stephan continued. “A fine match if ye are trying to build this alliance.”
“Iris suggested the same thing,” Ian admitted, thinking of the conversation he had with his sister at what seemed like such a long time ago.
“Of course Iris did,” Stephan chuckled, shaking his head. “But she’s right. Ye could marry the lass for political gain. Any laird would do the same if given the chance.”
Ian walked next to his brother as they returned to the great hall, his mind in turmoil. There was a small part of him that had thought he would forget Ida over time, but it was clear now that he wanted her as his own. He barely knew her, but what he did know about her was enough to have her be a formidable partner at his side. By marrying her, he could solidify his future and that of his clan’s.
The thought stayed with him the rest of the day as he gathered his things to prepare for his journey once more. He was going back to the MacGregor land and to Ida. Stephan had already sent word ahead of them to Iris, that she could anticipate their arrival in a few days and Ian hoped that she would prepare her laird as well.
He wouldn’t fail this time.
Stepping back, Ian walked to the window and gazed out over the land that he loved so much. He would do anything for this clan, to preserve his da’s legacy, but he couldn’t continue to sacrifice their clansmen for a senseless war. The Ian of old would have never thought to do something like that, but the Ian of new was tired of the loss.
He wanted peace and this was going to be the time that he got it.
The next morning, Ian bid farewell to his council advisors and turned his horse north, with his brother, Remy, and Dalziel at his side. Behind him, there were a total of twenty warriors accompanying them, not to show the brute force he had but to protect him against any surprise attacks along the way. “Are ye sure ye are ready tae return?” Remy asked him softly as they started down the well-worn path toward the border. “We donna know if they are even going tae let us in.”
“They will,” Ian promised, gripping his reins tightly in his hands. In his missive to Iris, he had also enclosed one to the laird, imploring him to look at what was best for his clan and his future. After all, Ian wasn’t the only enemy he had and the word was that the clan to the west of the MacGregor land was looking to fight and conquer.
It would benefit the laird to have an ally in Ian and that was going to be his stance this time around. He would not walk out of there without an alliance.
And perhaps a wife as well.