Chapter 24 #2
“Me brother and I were always very close,” Callum continued, in a halting, determined sort of rush.
“We were twins, ye ken. A bare half hour between us. He used to joke that perhaps we’d been switched at birth, and that perhaps he was Laird MacDean and I was in his place as a spare son, the second son, the unnecessary one.
But nobody could have thought he was the eldest. He was smaller than me, thinner, and weaker.
He was a sickly child, and as a babe, they were sure that he’d die. ”
Callum paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“He didnae die. He was determined and hung onto life. We were close, as I said. Nobody mattered more to me than him. There was a deep bond between Fletcher and me. We made those knives for each other. I had his, and he had mine. But after me son was born, things… things changed.”
Melody had intended to keep her word and avoid interruptions, but when the silence dragged on for one minute, then two, then three, she felt obliged to do something.
“How did things change?” she prompted, twisting her pencil between her fingers. The wood was warm, as if somebody had been touching it before she came into the room.
“He changed,” Callum spat. “I had nay idea how he’d coveted the lairdship.
I always assumed that he saw it the same way I did—as a burden, a trial, nae something to be hungered after.
Thomas told me that Fletcher had been tryin’ to rally support for himself after I married.
He’d gone behind me back, pickin’ holes in me choices, complainin’ about how I did things.
I was hurt, mortally so, but I could nae imagine it goin’ further than discontent.
I imagined that I could do somethin’ for my brother.
I was afraid that I’d neglected him, so perhaps a gift of land, or some money, or the prospect of a fine wife of his own would smooth things out between us. ”
He paused again, shaking his head.
“Then Alexander was born. Even I started to notice Fletcher’s fury then.
Once I had an heir, he must have guessed that there’d be nay tragedy or accident which would put him in my place.
An heir is what every laird desires, because it solidifies his place.
Nay coup or usurper can unseat a man with good, strong heirs set up behind him, because people crave stability.
I was nae uncertain of me place, and I was nae afraid of me brother.
Then me baby boy was found drowned in a tub. ”
Melody gave a strangled cry, pressing her hands over her mouth.
“Oh, oh no, Callum! Not the baby!”
Callum had gone as white as a sheet. He stood hunched over in front of the fire, the flickering flames throwing strange, twisted shadows in front of him.
“Aye, that’s true. Me son was drowned. Dead.
Ye can imagine how we felt, how I reacted.
Although…” he paused, considering. “Perhaps ye cannae imagine it. In fact, I hope ye cannae. Much of that time was a blur for me. I put me entire self into investigatin’ the crime and discoverin’ who had done it. ”
Melody closed her eyes.
I know how this story ends.
“Fletcher,” she whispered.
Callum did not seem angry at the interruption. On the contrary, he seemed relieved that he did not have to say it himself.
“Jealousy and madness,” he breathed. “I daenae pretend to ken what went through me brother’s head.
As soon as he was discovered, he fled. Or tried to flee, really.
I pursued him, caught him, and killed him on the road.
Nothin’ fancy, nay trial, nay hangin’ from the keep walls.
I killed him with the knife he’d gifted me all those years ago.
It was poorly made, by the way. It snapped, the blade lodging between his ribs.
I took his knife, I could nae tell ye why. ”
He sank slowly to his knees before the fire, as if the energy had simply drained out of him. Melody inched toward him, longing to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She could not quite dare, however, and had to be content with simply standing close by.
“I prayed for death often in the months of mournin’ which followed,” he continued at last. “Elsie took it one step further. I kent she was grievin’, of course, but I had nay idea how deeply melancholy had rooted in her heart.
I’d imagined that we would have another child one day, and while that would never make up for the loss of Alexander, it would certainly soothe us.
Then the next thing I kent, she was dead, and it was over.
Everythin’ was over,” he shrugged limply.
“Do ye ken the worst of it all? I have nay idea when me brother’s love for me turned to hatred.
I’ve thought and thought and thought, and I just cannae pinpoint a moment.
Nae a single moment. I ken how he hated me in the end, but I daenae ken when it began. I wish I did.”
Silence fell after this speech. Melody searched her mind for words, but nothing appeared. After all, words would never be good enough to respond to a tale of misery like this.
“So ye see now why Thomas resents me,” he continued after a moment.
“Ye understand why me councilors watch me warily. And ye must understand why there’s a brand over my heart.
I seared it all away to prevent this from happening again.
Love blinded me to me brother’s hatred. Love made me kill him, just as love and grief made me ignore me wife’s misery until it was too late.
I can never trust anyone, and that’s why I can never take a bride, never have another heir. I daenae wish to forget me son.”
“You are right that I can’t imagine how you feel,” Melody said at last. “Such a tragedy… I don’t want to imagine it.
The pain you must be going through…” She shook her head and cleared her throat.
“But you can’t keep punishing yourself and those around you, Callum.
You do see that, don’t you? You owe it to your wife and your son to live, to be the man they knew you could be.
You survived. Doesn’t that mean something? ”
He met her gaze through red-rimmed eyes.
“Sometimes survival is just that,” he murmured.
“Survival. Thank ye for yer kind words, Melody, I… I care for ye more than ye ken,” he lifted his hand, trailing the back of his knuckles across her cheek.
“But yer words daenae change the facts. I daenae want a bride. I daenae want an heir. And I daenae want to ruin yer life, too.”
A moment of silence opened between them, tight and crackling.
Melody glanced away first.
“I understand,” she said at last, rising shakily to her feet. She reached for him, but seemed to think better of it. Her hand paused mid-air, then fell to her side. “Thank you for your honesty. I… I think I need some time with my thoughts.”
He nodded and said nothing. She hurried to the door, and he made no move to follow her.
Once Melody was out of the tower, she picked up her skirts and broke into a run.
She knew that tears were coming, and did not want to risk somebody else seeing them.
Now that the councilors knew that Callum intended to tell her the whole truth, it was fair to assume that others would hear about it, too.
She didn’t want sympathy. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want clicking tongues of understanding or quick, knowing smiles.
Luck seemed to be on her side, and Melody reached her room without anybody seeing her. Tears had already begun to fall, but they were thankfully silent ones, dripping quietly down her cheeks and off the edge of her chin.
She closed the door behind her, turned the key in the lock, and advanced across the room to where Callum’s gift sat on her desk.
The wooden horse was as beautifully crafted as she remembered.
The creature seemed almost poised to break into a gallop.
It reminded her of Faun more than of Thunder now, and she wondered briefly if Callum had modeled the horse on Faun after all.
The wood was light in her hands, and the grain smooth.
He must have sanded it perfectly, as there wasn’t a splinter to be felt.
Melody stood there for a moment in her dark, gloomy room, in front of the fireless hearth.
Closing her eyes, she pressed the wooden horse against her heart, breathing in shakily.
Then she threw the carving down onto the stone hearth with as much force as she could muster, splintering it into a thousand pieces. She shouldn’t cherish it. It was all over anyway. When the echoing crash had faded, Melody felt tears rolling down her cheeks. There was a splinter in her fingertip.