Chapter Eight #3
“Ah, a fine mon. Honorable, a good warrior, and a staunch ally if ye can win him to your side. A wee bit odd.”
“Ye ken my cousin weel, do ye?” Several more fires had been lit, and the smell of roasting venison was making his mouth water, but Tavig fought to hide it.
“His fool of a father gifted me with a wee scrap of land ere Mungan was old enough to curb the old mon’s vagaries. Last year Mungan got that scrap back.”
“Ye fought with my cousin?”
“Nay. The land wasnae worth a battle, and Mungan Coll isnae a mon I care to have snarling at my back. And your cunning cousin Iver was turning his evil eye toward it.”
Tavig tensed although he did not sense any real threat from Colin. “Ye ken exactly who I am, dinnae ye?”
“Aye, laddie. Now, ye and your woman can sit down and have a wee bit of venison and ale. Dinnae fear,” he added as Moira and Tavig sat down, facing him across the fire.
“I willnae be handing ye over to Sir Iver MacAlpin though he does offer a handsome purse for your capture and return. I want no dealing with a mon as sly as Iver. Aye, and Mungan spoke only good of ye whilst warning me to beware of Iver. A back-gnawing rat, he called him.”
“Then ye will let us go on our way?”
“Aye. I wish I could give ye a horse to help ye, but I dinnae have enough for my own men. A sickness took o’er half my stable this past spring. ’Tis verra slow work to steal back what I need from the folks in Craigmoordun.”
Courtesy demanded that he keep up his part of the conversation, but Tavig found it difficult when he and Moira were given a plate of venison and a tankard of ale to share.
“The people in Craigmoordun are terrified of ye. They say ye will murder anyone who steps onto your land.” Colin and his men laughed.
Frowning, Tavig took advantage of the brief diversion to savor the freshly roasted meat and hearty ale.
“Half the men ye see here were once Craigmoordun men. Aye, and Craigmoordun was once mine.” Colin shook a half-gnawed bone at Tavig.
“The leader Duncan MacBean, what squats in that tower, has sucked all the life out of that wee village and its good people. He stole Craigmoordun from my father through deceit and murder. I tried to retain what was mine, but my father built that thrice-cursed tower weel. Many a good mon has died at its walls. Being slaughtered at the foot of that lump of stone gains me naught.”
“I cannae believe ye have given up.”
“Nay, ’twas your cousin Mungan who told me how to regain it.
Steal it, he said. Steal it back mon by mon, woman by woman, horse by horse.
One day that bastard Duncan will wake up to find that he has naught but empty fields, empty stables, and only a handful of men too scared or too stupid to leave him.
Then I can retake that tower. Whenever we face a MacBean we offer him a chance to join our cause.
Aye, some die, for they choose to fight.
Many are glad to shake off the yoke of Duncan, feeling the vow of loyalty they gave him was forced from them and thus not binding and heartfelt.
If I trust their word, they become part of my clan.
Some return to be my eyes and ears within the village.
MacBean’s sergeant-at-arms is one of my men.
’Tisnae as glorious as battle, but ’tis working. ”
“And most of your men and kinsmen will be alive to share in the success.”
“Exactly. So when ye see that great hulking cousin of yours, tell him that his idea has worked. He may wish to use it himself someday.”
For hours Tavig and Old Colin talked. The man was eager for any information his visitor had about events and changes in the world outside his lands. Tavig did not realize how long he and Colin had talked until Moira slumped against him, sleeping soundly.
“Poor lassie,” murmured Colin. “’Tis a wonder that any kin of Bearnard Robertson’s could be so sweet of face.”
Tavig slowly smiled at Colin. “Is there anything that remains a secret to you?”
“Aye, but I try verra hard not to let there be too many secrets and that they dinnae stay secret for too long. ’Tis no great feat of cunning to ken who she is.
My cousin visits with me now, and he saw Robertson’s ship limping into harbor three days south of here.
The tale of how ye and she were swept away was much told.
’Tis said that Robertson wasnae suffering much grief, but that he was annoyed.
Aye, enraged. The lass will fare better out of his reach.
Robertson has long been named a brutish mon.
My men have spread out your bedding o’er there beneath that tree. ”
“Thank ye for your kindness, sir,” Tavig said, gently picking Moira up in his arms as he stood up.
“And I thank ye, laddie. Ye have given me more information than I have gathered in a twelvemonth. Dinnae let Robertson get his fat hands on the wee lass.”
“’Tis a deed already done, sir. When she fell out of that ship, Robertson lost all claim to her. I but need to make her understand that.” Tavig smiled as Colin laughed.