Chapter Six #2
“Then let me see it now so you might assure me this willnae bring the wrath of king and country down on our clan in the end,” I countered.
“For if you do truly…” I swallowed hard, the word bitter on my tongue, “Pass whilst we are away and Alexander finds out I betrayed him, not once but twice, the fate of our people will lie on my shoulders, nae yours, as their new chieftain.” I shook my head just as firmly as he had, equally stubborn.
“And I willnae have that, Da. I willnae do that to our people any more than you should.”
My father’s dark sea green eyes remained locked with mine for a stretch as he clearly debated how much I should know. If I were ready for something he considered dire enough for us to take such bold actions this eve.
Fortunately, he came to the right conclusion.
“Do I have your word, as my son, that you will agree to my request upon reading what I may or may not show you?” He shrugged, unrelenting. “If not, then I willnae.”
A heavy silence fell between us as we continued eyeing each other before the fire snapped and popped so robustly, I looked to the flames, shocked by what I swore I saw.
For a split second, the image of the merchant boat in which Father was shipwrecked crested the flames as if sailing upon waves before disappearing.
“Nay,” I whispered, shaking my head. Surely my imagination played tricks on me. Mayhap I’d enjoyed more whisky this eve than I realized?
“Ja,” Astrid whispered, her gaze on the flames as well. “’Twas there, Declan. Just as it was that night, carrying your father, delivering him into Soren’s
lifesaving arms upon the shores of Largs.”
A merchant ship that had been carrying my father to various allied clans to get a sense of things less spoken about. Father had been rather close-lipped about it, claiming he had discovered little, but it seemed he might have when he handed me the key to my mother’s trunk.
“See it if you must, Declan,” he said softly. “Then, with knowledge in hand, I pray you will do as I asked so that I might die in peace when the good Lord takes me. ‘Tis the top scroll. You cannae miss it.”
Although unsure what to make of any of this, I couldn’t help but notice that Astrid seemed remarkably calm now. Nor did I miss how she fingered the small green stone hanging around her neck. Something I hadn't seen until now, yet I got the overwhelming sense it had been there all along.
Either way, I refused to see through Father’s monumental request blindly, so I crouched in front of the chest I remembered fondly as a wee bairn when Mother retrieved one thing or another from inside, inserted the key, and opened it.
Nostalgia washed over me at its rich pine scent, and for the briefest of moments, I felt the wonder of peering inside when young, as if it were a magical chest.
“Your sweet Da had this made for me,” Mother had said when she allowed me to see inside. She had smiled, her blue eyes sparkling when she leaned close and whispered in my ear, “And ‘twill always be full of great wonders. Of all the years your da and I share. Of what great love should be.”
My heart warmed at those words, and even if only a memory, for a moment, they seemed real once again heard in the whistling wind beyond the windows as I wrapped my hand around the wounded-looking scroll on top.
Startled by the odd yet equally warm and encompassing sensation I felt at touching it, I glanced over my shoulder at Astrid, oddly compelled to look at her, only to find her looking right back.
“’Tis fate, Declan,” she said softly, almost as if she spoke something out of habit. Perhaps even out of hope and want, yet wariness, too. “You are my fate.”
I glanced down at the scroll, then back to her, only to find her gaze on the flames once more, as if she’d never looked my way to begin with, nor had Father’s gaze wavered from watching me.
Unnerved by the feeling she had somehow spoken to me without him being the wiser, I returned to my seat and downed the rest of my whisky before frowning at the scroll.
For some reason, I dreaded reading it, even though minutes before, I’d been eager for some proof of why I should marry Astrid so swiftly without our king’s permission. “What is this, Da?”
“’Tis a missive from a clan closely allied with the MacGreggor’s about their chieftain, Gustav.
” He had never sounded more serious than now as his gaze lingered on the scroll.
“I had tucked it in my pocket before the storm hit that fateful night on the water, and by the grace of God, it survived…” Father hesitated, clearly humbled not just by his survival but by the fact that it was still intact.
“Especially considering everything that has unfolded since right to this verra moment.”
God’s grace indeed had saved this. I carefully unrolled it, finding the paper soft and pliable despite being submerged in water.
The ink wasn't even smudged. If anything, it almost appeared as though someone had just written it.
While tempted to accuse my father of some sort of forgery, everything inside me said it wasn't.
“Bloody hell,” I whispered, shaking my head as I read it, not daring to read it aloud even though I knew we were safe within these walls. Nevertheless. “This cannae be right.”
Yet I knew the chieftain of that clan, and it was his signature at the bottom.
I also knew he was as much an ally to the MacGreggors as he was to us.
“’Tis right because we spoke of it together alone before he sent it with me,” Father said.
“And he feels the same as I.” He looked from Astrid to me, remaining quiet about the details as well, just in case.
“We cannae let that happen, son. Not if we hope for a better future with our Scandinavian neighbors across the sea. Those trying to invade now might soon be driven from our isles and our country entirely ours once more, but allies are always better than enemies going forward. And they, I have no doubt, will prove better allies than the Sassenach in the years to come.”
While he might be right, the greater threat in this missive lay in proof that Gustav most certainly did want Astrid.
More than that, it was just as I feared might be the case.
He intended to use her for his own nefarious purposes.
Namely, to destroy as many Norse as he could, starting with her, once they were married.
I continued skimming over the chieftain’s words, gripping the parchment so tightly in fury that my hand shook.
Gustav boasted to me when in his cups that he had the Norse girl right where he wanted her.
She was all his, ripe for the taking when the time was right.
He had wooed her so well that she would think him truly smitten with her.
So, I will give her the honor of me making her my wife and slake my lust, he claimed rather boldly.
Then I will punish her for all the harm she and her kind have done to my countrymen.
I shook my head, disgusted by what I was reading as the chieftain went on, clear indeed with my father about what Gustav had shared.