Chapter 22
“When did the messenger arrive?” Archer asked.
“Only moments ago,” Calum replied.
The two men walked swiftly through the castle after Archer had left Eileen to watch over her brother.
“He came with a letter for ye,” Calum continued.
“I had one of me men take him to the kitchens for some food after the long ride, but we willnae let him loose until we ken what’s goin’ on.
I dinnae want to arouse any suspicion until we ken what the message is about, and I dinnae want anyone to see us holdin’ an O’Gunn messenger hostage. ”
“Aye, Mack wasnae workin’ alone. He had men smugglin’ with him. Until we find out their names, we keep our cards close to our chest. Ye’ve made the right decision as always, Calum. Still, ye dinnae ken what the message says?”
“Nay,” Calum replied. “The message is addressed to ye, and I didnae want ye thinkin’ I’m a spy if I opened it and read it afore ye.”
Archer stopped dead, and Calum did the same a moment later.
“I could never think that of ye,” Archer assured him. “Ye’re as honest and loyal as they come.”
“Thank ye, Archer,” Calum said, offering a hesitant smile. “Right now, we dinnae ken who is workin’ with Mack. O’Gunn infiltrated our council. Who kens who else he got to?”
“Then I’m glad to have ye by me side.” Archer clapped him on the shoulder. “Together, we’ll root out this evil afore anyone else dies.”
Calum nodded firmly. “Aye, afore any more loyal men die.”
The two men resumed walking until they reached Calum’s private chambers. Once there, he retrieved a small chest from under the desk and a key from his cloak. He unlocked the chest and took out the letter, handing it to the Laird.
Archer quickly broke the wax seal, unfolded the letter, and read it.
“It’s about the betrothal,” he relayed. “O’Gunn heard about me engagement to Lady Eileen, and he’s nae pleased with it. He says that he asked her first and that she belongs to him. He sounds like a petulant child.”
“Do ye think he sent it after Reid escaped?” Calum asked.
“I dinnae ken,” Archer sighed. “He’ll figure out some way to spin the Reid Kilmartin situation when he finds out that the lad is here—if he hasnae already.
He’s tryin’ to save face. A union between his clan and the McFairs makes sense from a strategic standpoint, and he willnae like that I took her from him. ”
“Ye think Mack sent word?”
“Maybe. Maybe someone else. Word was sent quickly.”
“So, what do we do?” Calum asked. “O’Gunn’s been spoilin’ for war for as long as I can remember. He might use this as an excuse.”
“Nay, I dinnae think so. He wanted Eileen’s hand to strengthen his position. He would have gone to war after. He willnae want to go to war now, but he’s also a man who doesnae back down.”
“Neither are ye,” Calum pointed out.
“Aye, but I’m nae so foolish as to start a war over a woman.”
“Ye willnae give her up to him, will ye?”
Archer shrugged, and his lips turned downward. “Nay, I willnae let her go to him. I cannae do that to her. She deserves better.”
“Aye, she does,” Calum agreed. “So, what’s our next move?”
“We have time,” Archer said. “O’Gunn willnae expect an immediate reply.
I want to talk with Mack afore we plan our next move.
Until then, we do everything we can to get Reid away and talkin’.
If O’Gunn wants to start a war over a woman, we can let the clans around ken about him kidnappin’ an innocent man.
We’ll also let them ken that Reid escaped and took down multiple men in the process.
It makes O’Gunn look weak, and he willnae like that. ”
“Nay, nae one bit,” Calum murmured. “His allies willnae see him as strong, and his enemies will see him as weak, and that’s a lethal combination.”
“All right, let’s have a chat with Mack and do what needs to be done.”
Archer stood in the woods to the west of the castle.
Through the trees, the grey castle wall stood tall and mighty, pocked with few windows.
In times of war, the trees provided good cover to those besieging the castle.
His great-great-grandfather had the foresight to leave the walls smooth, with only a few small windows for archers to rain arrows down into the trees.
On that afternoon, it provided shelter from wandering eyes.
Archer stood with his hands behind his back, head up, spine straight, waiting.
He needed to get to the bottom of their troubles and quash them before they grew further.
Mack was not honorable, but perhaps he would have a morsel of honor at the end of his life.
The crack of a branch caused Archer to whirl around. Calum emerged into the clearing first, followed by Mack, flanked by two guards.
Mack was well-dressed, clean, and had not been roughly handled, but the way he walked and held himself made it look like he’d been holed up in the dungeons for weeks or months.
“Please, Me Laird,” he begged immediately. “I dinnae ken what’s goin’ on. There’s been some sort of misunderstandin’. I havenae done anythin’.”
Archer looked at the rope around the man’s wrists. “Cut him free.”
“Thank ye, Me Laird,” Mack said.
“Me Laird?” Calum asked.
“I’ll talk to him,” Archer grunted.
Calum turned to the two guards and nodded. One held Mack while the other took out a dagger and cut through the rope. Mack rubbed his wrists as if he were a long-term prisoner.
“Step forward, Mack,” Archer barked.
Mack looked at the two guards and then around the clearing at the surrounding trees. He stepped forward into the middle of the clearing to face Archer.
“Me Laird, if ye allow me a moment, I can explain whatever it is ye think I did,” he blurted.
“That’s all I want,” Archer said. “The sooner we can clear up this nasty business, the better. Three of our men are dead, at least two of them innocent.”
“Aye, a tragedy, Me Laird. If there’s anythin’ I can do to—”
“It’s a good thing we have Reid Kilmartin safely back in the castle,” Archer interrupted. “He killed a few of O’Gunn’s men as he escaped.”
Mack’s composure faltered for a split second, his tight mouth curling into a scowl and the color draining from his cheeks. But then he schooled his features into calm, his hands twitching.
“That’s braw news, Me Laird,” he said. “Many of us thought him lost forever. How can we use this to our advantage?”
“How much coin does he give ye?” Archer asked.
“Me Laird?” Mack sputtered.
“Dinnae play dumb, Mack. We’re way past that,” Archer spat.
“I can see it written all over yer face—ye’re guilty as hell, and yer hands are covered in blood.
I have a first-hand account of ye smugglin’ weapons.
Ye took swords from the smithy and smuggled them to O’Gunn.
I dinnae care how much coin ye got from him; there’s nay price high enough. I only hope it was worth it.”
“Me Laird,” Mack begged, “I didnae—”
Archer drew his dirk quicker than a bird taking flight when chased by a Scottish wildcat. He grabbed the man by the collar, slammed him into a tree, and pressed the blade to his neck.
“All right, all right,” Mack cried. “I had a moment of weakness and I smuggled a case of broadswords. That was supposed to be it, but he kept askin’ for more, and he blackmailed me into doin’ it. I didnae want to do it, Me Laird. Ye have to believe me.”
“I dinnae believe ye, Mack. Nae about bein’ sorry or nae wantin’ to do it. Ye sat on me council while goin’ behind me back. A man in me forge was murdered, was he nae? It wasnae an accident, was it? That’s on yer hands, Mack. And someone came for me in the night, and that’s on yer hands, too.”
“Nay, I didnae ken about that, Me Laird. I would never hurt ye.” Mack’s body shook as Archer kept him pinned to the tree.
“But the man in the forge, aye? Ye dinnae deny that. What about the man at the funeral? Was he involved, or did ye set him up as a scapegoat? I want to ken who else ye’re workin’ with.”
Archer moved his face a few inches from Mack’s and could see the fear in his eyes.
Mack’s breath was rancid, acidic, and blunt. He inhaled quickly through his nose to stop the snot from dribbling down. But then something shifted in his gaze, and his expression hardened like the steel in the forge.
“Ye dinnae have a clue, do ye?” he spat.
Archer had to admire the man’s bravery. He’d been a coward for far too long, but now, knowing his end was near, he found the courage he’d been lacking for so long.
“Nay, I dinnae, so why dinnae ye enlighten me?” Archer pressed the blade to his neck, ready to off him.
“Yer faither died because he couldnae let sleepin’ dogs lie.” Mack breathed heavily through his nose as he stared him down.
Archer suddenly felt his world spin. His instincts screamed at him to drive his dirk into the bastard’s neck until the blade touched the rough bark of the tree and the head was cleaved clean off, but he halted. He needed answers.
He stepped back before he did anything stupid.
“What did ye say?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Mack snorted. “Do ye really think anyone wanted ye to become the Laird, Fleming? Nay, ye were only instated because ye dinnae ask any questions. Well, until now. Ye’ve outgrown yer usefulness.”
Archer breathed heavily, gripping the hilt of his dirk so tightly that he feared he might crush it. He pointed the blade at Mack, a red haze clouding his vision as he pieced it all together.
“Ye killed him ‘cause he started asking questions?”
“He was killed when he became a danger to us.”
“That’s why there was an attempt on me,” Archer concluded. “As soon as I asked Calum to investigate the death at the forge, ye came for me.”
“Maybe ye’re nae as stupid as everyone thinks,” Mack jeered.
Calum and the two guards watched on, not intervening, witnesses to the despicable ploys that had started long before Archer inherited the lairdship.
“Far too many dead,” Archer muttered.
“Ye have to spill some blood from time to time,” Mack drawled with a smile.
He knew his life was over.
“I want to ken who is workin’ with ye,” Archer said. “Ye had men smuggle weapons with ye. Ye’re nae the only O’Gunn man workin’ in the castle. Ye’re nae the only traitor.”
“Ye paint pictures in black and white, Fleming,” Mack snarled. “The clans will always fight each other. The best we can do is grab a little coin and power while we can. I dinnae care about our clan or any other. I only care about meself and havin’ the life I’m worthy of.”
“Ye’re nae worthy of any life, Mack, and dinnae call us yer clan.
Ye dinnae have a clan anymore. Ye’re nothin’ more than a cockroach.
Ye wanted a better life, and all ye’ll get is death.
Aye, ye might put on a brave face, but ye deserve exactly what ye’ll get.
Ye wanted me in power, and it’ll be the end of ye, Mack.
Ye wanted a better life, but all ye’ll get is a coward’s death, and ye’ll be buried in an unmarked grave.
Nay one will mourn ye, and the clan will continue thrivin’. ”
Mack swallowed hard as he stood with his back pinned to the tree. Archer watched as his confidence wavered. Still, he remained stoic and steadfast. Even in his cowardice, he wouldn’t give up the names of his accomplices.
That only frustrated Archer more. They had no way of telling how far and wide the corruption spread.
“Yer short sword,” Archer said to one of the guards.
The squat, red-headed guard unsheathed his sword and walked over to Archer, handing it to him handle-first. Archer waited until the guard had returned to his spot before he tossed the sword at Mack’s feet.
“Pick it up,” he ordered.
“Me Laird?” Mack’s eyes darted between him and the sword.
“Nay, I’m nae yer Laird anymore. Pick it up and die like a man.”
Mack was hesitant, but he slowly bent down and picked up the short sword, keeping his eyes on Archer the entire time.
Rage surged through Archer. His father was dead because of men like Mack.
He remembered the day his father died. Mack wasn’t there, but the man was just as responsible. He breathed in and out through his nose like a bull about to charge.
Mack’s hand shook as he pointed the sword at him.
For a moment, Archer thought the traitor would turn around and run, and he’d have to stab him in the back, but Mack showed one last ounce of bravery. He planted his feet, then lunged forward and swung the sword down at an angle meant to slash Archer’s face and torso.
Archer stepped back and angled his body to the side so the blade slashed through the air. For the briefest moment, he saw his own reflection in the blade as it whizzed past him. Then, he snatched Mack by the collar and slit his throat, killing him swiftly.
Mack dropped to the ground, and the sword fell from his grasp. Blood pooled from his body, soaking into the ground below.
Archer turned his back on him and walked to the guard to return the sword.
“A swift burial in an unmarked grave,” Calum ordered the two guards. “And nae a word to anyone.”
The guards nodded simultaneously before swiftly returning to the castle to retrieve their tools.
“Me Laird?” Calum murmured.
“I want guards stationed outside the healer’s chambers,” Archer ordered. “Guards watchin’ Lady Eileen, too.”
“And ye?” Calum asked.
“I can take care of meself. It’s nae the first time me life’s under threat, and it willnae be the last.”
“More is to come,” Calum reminded him.
“Aye, I ken,” Archer muttered. “This is far from over, but I will end what me faither started.