Chapter 3
Upon their return to the keep, Gareth and Elysa were approached by Reginald, one of the laird’s most trusted advisors.
“He wishes tae see ye at once,” Reginald told Gareth.
Gareth followed Reginald up the steep and winding stairway to the tower where his father’s bedchamber was located.
The curtains were drawn to keep the room dim, as Laird Fredric’s eyes had grown extremely sensitive to the light since he’d taken ill.
The place was musty and smelled of diseased sweat.
The sight of the laird looking pitiful and frail in his bed when he had towered so commandingly mere weeks earlier made Gareth’s heart hurt.
Nevertheless, he did all he could to conceal his reaction as he knelt at his father’s bedside.
“Ye summoned me, Father?”
“I did, aye.” The laird’s voice was hoarse, and his eyes appeared unfocused.
“Has there been any improvement in yer health?” Gareth asked the question even though his father’s eyes had already given him the dreadful answer.
“Nay, I’m afraid not.”
Fredric fell into a fit of wet coughing, and the strenuousness of it caused his face to turn red, then purple. Gareth watched helplessly, wishing there was something—anything—he could do. The man appeared ready to perish before his very eyes.
“If nothing else,” Fredric wheezed, regaining control of himself at last, “I can at least comfort myself with the news that Laird Cameron Wallace has been likewise afflicted. Perhaps I might hang on long enough tae receive word of his demise, and go all the happier fer it.”
“It is a strange thing indeed that both of ye should be ailin’ at once,” Gareth observed.
Fredric nodded. “It will mean a new era for both clans at once, which could lead tae many different outcomes, my son. We must prepare ourselves as much as possible.”
“Tell me what ye would have me do,” Gareth urged. “I am at yer command, Father, as always.”
The laird managed a weak smile. “I ken… Things have not always been easy between us, Gareth. Nae since the…tragedy that befell yer brother. Ye believe that I blamed ye fer it, and perhaps, unjustly, I did. If I made ye feel lesser fer it, or gave ye reason tae doubt yer worthiness tae succeed me, then I apologize.”
“There is no need for that,” Gareth assured him. “That unpleasantness is all behind us now.”
“Aye, that’s true enough. We must look tae the future now.
Fer ye will make a good laird, Gareth, if ye allow yerself tae.
If ye choose tae shrug off the chains and shackles of yer own self-doubt and are given the chance tae prepare adequately for the role beforehand, I…
fear I have not been supportive enough in that regard.
I could have given ye freer rein tae stand in my stead in the smaller matters, like this dispute I heard of earlier.
You settled things adequately, I trust?”
“The matter of the missin’ goat, ye mean?” Gareth could not help but smirk. “I acquitted myself admirably, aye. Both parties were satisfied with the outcome.”
“I suspected as much.” Fredric’s breathing was growing more labored by the moment, and Gareth knew that he would need to rest soon.
“The time has come fer ye tae take a stronger hand in such matters when they arise. Whether I recover or…succumb…ye ought tae be better readied fer the day of yer rule. If Laird Cameron dies, his sons will prove unworthy tae succeed him. One is a violent lunatic, the other a drunken miscreant. With ye leadin’ our clan, Gareth, we shall be in a far stronger position than they.
And when that time comes, ye may be able tae end hostilities between us.
Indeed, ye might even be able tae negotiate some alliance with them against the Sinclairs. ”
“I can certainly try,” Gareth affirmed.
The plan did make a certain sense to him, though dealing with the Wallaces had proven difficult in the past.
Fredric nodded again, though the effort almost seemed too much for him.
“Ye must, fer there is little doubt that upon news of my death, the Sinclairs will see it as the perfect time tae attack and destabilize us. Our only hope is that they might do likewise tae the Wallaces. This fightin’ must cease, Gareth.
It has been terrible fer our clan. Too many have died, and too many households have been…
robbed of their fathers, their brothers, their sons.
We cannot long endure with enemies on both sides of us. ”
“Perhaps we might try tae arrange courtship with a powerful clan, that they might send additional forces tae help us win these wars?” his son suggested. “I could marry a noblewoman, or Elysa could…”
Fredric shook his head. “There is no time for that. I have spent these past months makin’ such inquiries among the nearest clans, and the few who have suitable heirs are unwillin’ tae send them tae risk their lives by marryin’ one of us during such times of battle and strife.
Nae that I can blame them. I’d hardly be eager tae send one of my own children into a situation where they might be injured or worse. ”
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence, and each man knew full well what the other was thinking about: the sight of Alex’s little corpse being brought home from the churchyard where he’d been murdered.
“Nay, ye must step up and be strong now,” Fredric continued, coughing a bit more.
Blood glistened at the corners of his parched lips, and the sight of it wrenched Gareth’s soul horribly.
“And ye shall begin today. All matters pertainin’ tae our clan, all audiences sought, all grievances which require our attention…
all shall be under yer purview from this point forward. ”
“Until ye are healed, ye mean?”
Fredric closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, Gareth thought his father had lost consciousness.
However, it turned out to be mere fatigue, as the laird opened his mouth and answered querulously, “We must not rely on that future, Gareth. We must proceed, at least for the moment, as though the time has come fer ye tae become ruler of the clan for good and all. It would be my greatest joy tae be proven wrong in this regard, but I feel the illness rackin’ my body, and I ken that my time on this earth may be short indeed. ”
“But Father, what if one of our enemies wishes tae parlay with us? Surely ye will want tae preside over such a meeting yerself?”
“I cannot.” Fredric’s breath whistled pitiably in his lungs.
“I dare nae, fer it would show them precisely how feeble I am, and we cannot afford tae show weakness during these dark times. Nay, I would have ye handle such things entirely on yer own. I…I trust ye, my son. I ken that yer wisdom and good heart will prevail in all decisions and that ye have the clan’s safety at heart.
If the Sinclairs or Wallaces seek an audience, ye will grant them one, and ye will do all ye can—short of shamin’ our clan—tae seek peace with them. ”
“I shall,” Gareth promised. “Ye have my word on that.”
Fredric nodded. “Good. Now, ye must…leave me, fer I would rest a while.”
Gareth squeezed his father’s hand, then took his leave, blinking back tears. He could never have imagined such a miserable and frightening sight as his father withered and infirm and speaking of his own death as though it were imminent.
He knew it should have comforted him a bit, at least, to hear his father affirm that Gareth was ready to lead the clan.
Those very doubts had indeed plagued him considerably for the past twenty years, ever since the incident in the churchyard.
He’d longed for the laird’s open and full-throated approval, and at last, he had received it.
But only now, when the old man was faced with the very real probability of his own mortality. Only when he found himself backed into the darkest of corners, with no other option available to him but to trust in his son and hope for the best.
“Well?” Elysa’s voice spoke up behind Gareth. “Was it as I suspected? Did he tell ye that ye are now our leader in all matters great and small?”
“Until his recovery, aye,” Gareth replied, a trifle defensively.
Elysa frowned. “We both know he has largely given up on that prospect, and given his current state, I can scarcely blame him for that.”
Gareth shook his head fiercely. “Nay. We must not give in tae such thoughts, and more importantly, we must not allow him tae give in. The moment he stops fightin’ and surrenders tae this ailment will be the moment death claims him.
He must maintain the will tae survive. He must keep strugglin’ as long as it takes until the healers have driven the disease from him. ”
She sighed, putting a hand on Gareth’s shoulder tenderly.
“Ye may make such grand and inspirin’ speeches tae him if ye wish, Brother.
But if I were ye, I would save my stirrin’ rhetoric fer the rest of our clansmen, who will be looking at ye tae lead them in these turbulent days ahead.
I shall stand by yer side, as ever, and do all that I can tae support ye.
In the end, though, the weight of the McDaughs will rest entirely upon yer shoulders. ”
“Do ye feel that I am equal tae the task?”
Elysa nodded smoothly. “With all my heart. Ye will surprise yerself, Gareth, ye’ll see. When yer moment comes, I have every confidence that ye will seize it and make us all very proud indeed.”
As Gareth returned to his chamber to rest a while, for the events of the day thus far had been quite trying indeed, his thoughts returned to Urich once more. The man’s anger was unfortunate but understandable.
Indeed, in some ways, Gareth felt that Urich’s lot in life was his fault as well.
In the months following Alex’s death, Laird Fredric, in his woe, took to wandering off from the keep for long spans of time—sometimes even whole days.
When asked where he’d been, he would mumble poor excuses and keep to himself.
This made the loss of her youngest son all the harder for Gareth’s mother to bear, as she was forced to deal with the grief and tragedy all on her own instead of having her husband to lean upon in her time of greatest need.
Then one day, the ugly truth came to light.
In his anguish and despair, Fredric had sought the comfort of a girl from one of the local taverns.
He’d been bedding her regularly as he cried upon her shoulder, and after a while, she revealed to him that she was with child.
He did all he could to keep the matter a secret, but the knowledge of it got out anyway, leaving him with a bastard whose lineage he could not hope to deny.
Urich was born, and in the process, sadly, his mother expired.
Gareth’s mother fell into a bleak depression, which slowly transformed into an illness from which she refused to recover. She died not long after.
Yes, Gareth’s childhood had been punctuated by misery and woe.
Even so, he knew that Urich’s had been far more dire.
That was why he’d done so much to try to persuade Urich that he might be a real part of the family…
for if that came to pass, Gareth felt that his own guilt, and that of their father, might be somewhat assuaged.
Sadly, that had never happened.
And judging by the laird’s current deteriorating condition, it seemed it never would.