Chapter 28
If tension could create a mountain, good gracious, they would be sitting atop the highest the Highlands had ever beheld, being seated four chairs down from Lord Kollungr at the raised dais table, which was a colossal horseshoe shape.
The courses presented were beyond reproach: catches gifted by the sea perfected by herbs, fresh breads still warm to the touch, then mead flawlessly brewed with honey and spice flowing like rain on a Highlands dreich day.
If it were any other time the flavors would have been packed on her tongue heartily.
At present, where was her joy found? Not in food, but another Scottish find.
Edina was near and busy as a tiny bee in a hive. It began with the wee one spinning for a time in the hall’s empty center with arms outstretched, much to her mother’s dismay, before the spent mother was forced to retire with a stern headache.
“Edina,” Keirah whispered at the wee one, who had seen fit to call Keirah’s lap home for the moment. Her lips brushed the little damp scalp, then declared, “You behold the spirit of Scotland, wild and free and fierce; never let another tell you different.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Giving a stern inward nod, she then inquired about the matter at hand: “Do you care for the honey drizzle upon your loaf or bog butter?”
The little brows raised toward Aonghus, who sat on their right sipping from his goblet, where the butter dish rested closest to him. “Pardon, Sir Aonghus, would you place the butter for me?”
“Of course he shall! Sir Aonghus, what a sire you shall make.” A bitter voice tore the air from Lord Kollungr, who raised his goblet at them.
“If the peasant’s favored bog butter is not enough, perhaps your teat may nurse the babe?
” Kollungr was growing drunk; the charming demeanor shown all eve had slipped.
Look at the glare from Henry of Orkney, one of the true leaders of H?konsson’s delegation – he is not pleased.
“Lord Kollungr, ’tis a blessing you never sired a bairn.
” Aonghus balanced the bread with a hearty helping upon the request of Edina.
“I have heard tales regarding animals who devour their young; I believe you are to be a creature directly up for the task.” Could Aonghus have grown any more desirable at this moment?
Not even if he were covered in honey drizzle!
Sir Brayden, sitting beside her on the left, tried stifling a chuckle but failed, resulting in a warning look from Sir James just beyond. Keep pecking on the food, Sir Rooster, don’t make me unleash Vengeance on your arse.
All grew somber when King Alexander broached the great hall after finishing a private discussion initiated by Gilbert of Hamar, who had pressed to speak before the feast, and both retook their seats farther down the row at the high table.
“My Lady Keirah?” the wee lassie whispered.
“Aye?” she murmured and concealed a grin when the tiny plump finger motioned her closer. Oh, they were going to share a secret.
The wee one sounded suddenly beyond her years. “He is a mean, that Northman, I do not care for him.” Clever lass.
“Trust your instincts,” Aonghus grunted in agreement. Keirah bit her lip to keep from smiling. He handed Edina the perfectly prepared bread. Her smile faded. Her knight, he would make a wonderful sire, and she was the bailey wall in halting this fate. Dammit.
Her arms tightened about Edina. “You comfortable, my wee lamb?”
The full mouth muttered. “Aye, my lady, I like you,” then snuggled closer in the drafty hall, “Very much.” Feeling the same, wee lamb.
As she looked up, another glare from Lord Kollungr shot her way like an arrow while he stabbed a slice of boar with his dagger.
How long could she stay in his presence with the falcon always studying her?
Rocking the wee lassie slightly as she munched, Keirah darted her eyes toward the relaxed expression on the king’s features while he surveyed the hall.
Whatever Gilbert of Hamar has conveyed seems to have placated the sovereign – excellent.
Aonghus took notice as well and leaned close.
“Our lord king appears pleased.” His breath scented by honey mead brushed her ear. A quiver shook her inwardly.
“MacCade,” she murmured, when her attention was diverted toward a familiar pair who entered the towering archway at the far end of the sprightly feast. “They are here safe, saints be praised.”
Aonghus’s lips took a shadow of a grin at the two MacCade brothers who had arrived late.
Triumphant! They must have been triumphant at seeing Clan MacCade onto the terrains farther north where the other forces were secretly being gathered.
As triumphant as the Royal Steward of Scotland, a commander who had left the castle undetected and was currently preparing those same forces for the siege to come after the storm.
Callum alongside Alec bowed and greeted the king, who granted them leave to join her and Aonghus. The siblings arrived before her knight. It was Callum who first noted Lord Kollungr, then hissed toward Aonghus, “Wee brother, a word?” It was a question more than a demand.
Edina gnashed another bite as her knight turned toward her, a look of uncertainty covering his expression.
Keirah whispered, “All is well. Sir James is at his post and Sir Brayden remains near,” she assured, the latter more her choice of guard if Aonghus could not be.
Had her kinship with the jovial knight grown by bounds?
Aye. Sir James may think the stout knight fit for court jester, but the day of Seumas and Sorley had revealed why the knight was chosen for a guard to the king.
Sir Brayden was no court jester when time came to draw blood.
“Aye!” Sir Brayden raised his goblet in acknowledgement toward the MacCade brothers. Sir James shot another disapproving look.
Aonghus’s fingers brushed her knee under the table in unspoken concealed touch which stated, I will be returning directly. She brushed her fingers over his to reply silently, I will be waiting, my knight.
He took his feet then trailed behind his brothers through the maze filled with tables jammed with warriors who ate and drank and laughed and belched with vigor.
After Kollungr’s grotesque claims about her earlier, Aonghus’s touch had been without hesitation; it was a good sign, right?
***
Aonghus walked next to his brothers before they took a secluded far corner of the room beside a tapestry billowing from a breeze coming in the archway, but his eyes never left Keirah.
Was it more than the portrait of her holding a wee lassie that tugged at his emotions?
Aye, it also was the entire evening and how Lord Kollungr had locked his attention on her.
That must be why she came up with the term ‘falcon’ for the Northman.
The shite predator was eyeing Keirah as prey every moment!
Callum went right for the same topic, as if knowing Aonghus’s thoughts.
“Lord Kollungr is the Northman present who stares at your lady as if she is to be served upon a platter for his pleasure?” Another perfect description.
“He is also the Northman who captured Lady Keirah of Clan MacCade?” Callum verified, angrily.
“Aye to both; ’tis the arsehole. The other pair of Northern hunters, Sv?rn and Torsten, have not yet shown their shite faces,” Aonghus explained, violent intent lining his words.
“Callum is correct in his appraisal; it appears the Northern lord is still quite taken with your lady,” Alec observed, his eyes narrowing.
Aonghus ground out the reply, “Aye.”
“When shall we slay the piece of swine shite?” Alec asked, his usual mirth gone at the dire conversation.
“Keirah seeks to disgrace the Northern arsehole. As to the slay, I cannot; my oath has been given to our lord king,” Aonghus replied, then cursed a string of Gaelic under his breath with frustration. Hell, bloody fuking hell!
“Disgrace is good, yet death is better. Rippin’ off his cock, then death, is best,” Callum replied and ran his fingers over his dagger strapped onto his waist beside the heavy sword.
“Well, you may have given your oath, but I have not given mine. A flick by my wrist, his throat slit, and the Northman’s hide will be mounted onto MacCade castle walls. ”
“Aye,” Alec added earnestly, as if they spoke of the weather. “Callum is very discreet; he can make it appear the Northman slipped and fell onto the dagger’s edge.”
“Nae.”
“Brother, you are still my blood,” Aonghus heard Callum proclaim.
“Your blood?” Surprise filled Aonghus’s words.
“Aye.” Callum nodded. “The day I cast you out was not my finest hour.” Shame showed upon Callum’s features. Aonghus blinked twice. Aye, ’tis Callum!
It seemed the hours spent practicing archery lessons with Keirah at Stirling, alongside the laughs and grins shared by all present, appeared to be cutting through the icy wall frozen between them all these years since their sire had passed. Had he ever thought this possible? No.
Before he could reply, the murdering topic in discussion began making his way toward the pack of them. Remember the oath, don’t strangle Kollungr – yet.
Callum murmured in a quick ask, “Where are Sv?rn and Torsten? They are not tied with any oaths unto our lord king.”
“I do not know,” Aonghus replied hastily. “Keirah is most worried for this, declaring the pair rarely leave Lord Kollungr’s side.”
All three grew quiet when Lord Kollungr reached them to declare, “This pair has the same pretty features as you, Sir Aonghus, so I may only fathom them to be your brothers and the remainder of Clan MacCade.” The Northman sneered the greeting, his voice carrying a hint of slur from a stronger wine’s effects.
“If not for the weapons and pair of beards” – he gestured toward Callum and Alec – “you all appear to be a pack of lassies gossiping in the hall’s corner. ”
Callum and Alec’s hands dropped onto their swords’ hilts; Aonghus took a broad step forward before his brothers.
“Lord Kollungr,” Aonghus snarled, “If you dare treat Chief Callum MacCade or Chieftain Alec MacCade – both of whom reign over one of the Highlands’ strongest clans, whose vast lands border Loch Lomond – in such a derogatory manner once more, I shall have to take a greater measure upon your hide. ”
Lord Kollungr looked a long moment at them before he raised the goblet in salute then took a long swig after giving a snort. The Northman turned to stand beside Aonghus.
All four noted the movement at the dais when King Alexander motioned Keirah over to sit beside him, with the server setting bowls overflowing with blaeberries onto the tables. At the summons, Edina took to twirling again in the tables’ vast empty center area.
“Even soiled by your hand, the Lady Keirah is a prize beyond compare,” Lord Kollungr stated, then taunted, “As intoxicating as this mulled wine, is she not?” He raised his goblet her direction in a toast-like gesture. “Always three steps from the king.”
Aonghus remained still as stone at the tormentor’s fixation, eyeing the enemy from his periphery while Kollungr sloshed the wine down before grotesquely wiping his tunic sleeve over his lips and vowing in a dark tone, “I will not be leaving these shores without her, Sir Aonghus.”
Aonghus’s voice thick with rage, he vowed, “Lord Kollungr, you are not goin’ to leave these shores at all once I have finished with you.” Callum slapped him on the back with approval.
The tallest Scotsman in the room met the Northman’s determined gaze before he turned. Preparing to move back to Keirah’s side, he spotted her eyes closing for a long moment. Shadow-glance!
“MacCade,” she called out to him on the opposite side of the hall. “Bring Edina at once! She must see the blue in these blaeberries, they are beyond compare!” Blue, oh hell, the signal word! Keirah’s eyes darted toward the massive chandelier hanging directly over…the innocent lassie.
It is going to fall and kill her! In a breath, his feet found the granite floor as he charged toward Edina. Scoop her up on the run, do not halt for a moment!
The breeze slapped his damp brow as the wee one saw him approach then raised her arms higher at him with a grin after hearing Keirah’s order. Nabbing the miniature frame, who gave a hearty giggle thinking it a game, he charged forward.
Ten steps to go!
Snap! In his periphery, the rope holding the mighty iron chandelier broke.
Whizz! The rope sizzled through the thick metal rings along the wall like snakes racing toward prey.
“It is going to collapse!” a Scotsman yelled.
CRACK! The chandelier crashed the same moment a spark hit the back of his ankle from a wayward candle slamming the ground.
A rush of gasps with screams filled the air as the candles, which did not extinguish from the stiff wind, rained the hall, landing on the tables or chairs, with all bolting to extinguish them before they turned into roaring fires.
“Protect the king!” Sir James bellowed when flames began to try to sprout up like flowers in a devil’s garden.
Edina wailed from fright as he tucked her close, but his eyes never left Keirah’s terrified expression at the torment unleashed.
She nodded toward something behind him; he glimpsed over his shoulder at the entry beyond the fallen chaos, which thanks to Keirah’s efforts had not claimed any lives. What had she motioned to?
A face whose expression seemed unfazed by all the chaos – Lord Kollungr. That extraordinarily evil piece of swine shite!