Chapter Nineteen #3
“What did ye say to him?” Tavig asked, half smiling at his cousin as he nudged Annie away and waved her to a seat. “Enough, woman,” he told her. “I am fine. Mungan, ye said something to that bastard that sucked all the strength from him. I am curious as to what it was.”
“Aye, so am I,” said Una, eyeing her new husband with admiration.
Mungan smiled faintly. “First I reminded him that no one will raise an outcry if he just disappears. That was but a guess, yet ’tis clear he believes in its possibility.
I mentioned that I dinnae have the sharpest of memories and have, on occasion, purely forgotten I hold a prisoner in the bowels of this keep.
Then I remarked on how so much noise can set my head to throbbing so badly I dinnae ken what I do.
I expressed my sincerest regrets concerning a few men who fell victim to these lapses of mine.
It seems Sir Bearnard found those tales a wee bit unsettling. ”
“Aye, I wager he did,” murmured Tavig. “He will guess your game when naught happens to him.”
“Ah, but he willnae be allowed to guess my game. I willnae hurt the cur—weel, not too badly—but he will ne’er be allowed to doubt my tales.
” He patted Una’s hand. “Dinnae worry, lass. He will leave here alive, but when I let him leave, he willnae be the fist-wielding bastard he was when he arrived.”
“How can ye do that?” Una asked. “He has been that way his whole life.”
“’Tis in his blood, is it?” Mungan asked, eyeing Nicol a little suspiciously.
“Nay, I dinnae think so.” Una frowned, looking at Nicol. “It isnae, is it?”
“Nay,” Nicol answered. “Our people have always told me that our father was the only one like that. He learned at a young age that he could rouse fear in people. He liked it. His father doted on him, for he was the only son, and so no leash was put on his brutality. When the old laird died, our father grew even worse. Ye will have a difficult time trying to change him,” he said to Mungan.
“I can be most patient and stubborn,” Mungan said. “What I must question is, where do ye stand?”
“With my sister and cousin. We are kinsmen now.”
Mungan nodded. “Accepted. Ye can guard the lasses here whilst Tavig and I ride to battle our kinsmon Iver.”
“And when is that to be?”
“On the morrow.”
Tavig choked on the wine he was drinking.
Moira slapped him on the back to help him clear his throat.
He looked furious, and she inwardly sighed.
Mungan and Tavig were obviously closely bonded, but they did seem to love to argue with each other.
She was beginning to suspect that they thoroughly enjoyed the confrontations.
“We are to ride on the morrow?” Tavig demanded. “When did ye think ye might tell me about this, Cousin?”
“Weel, about now, actually.”
“Mungan, curse your thick head. Why have ye decided we should ride against Iver on the morrow? We were waiting for your men to return. I havenae seen them.”
“They arrived just before dawn. We had a wee talk, and I sent them off to their beds.”
“Mungan, it was your wedding night.” Seeing how Una blushed as she kept her gaze fixed upon her food, Tavig laughed softly.
“Weel, my men didnae ken that I had gotten married. And I cannae fault them for wishing to tell me what they discovered. None of your people stand with Iver. Not a mon, woman, or bairn. He only has his mercenaries.”
“Last I kenned, he had four and twenty of them. Not a large force, but each one battle-hardened and safe behind the walls of Drumdearg. They could easily force us into a siege. They have food and water to hold out for months.”
“Aye, but we can avoid the slow bloodletting of a siege, Cousin. It seems not all of your men were forced into hiding or killed, and many of them never doubted that ye would return. They have been waiting, and my men found them almost too eager to join us. A few of your men have even convinced Iver that they have changed their loyalty to him. They will get us into Drumdearg.”
“Then defeating Iver will be easy.”
“Easier than if we were forced into a siege. Howbeit, it will still take a battle even with surprise in our favor. Iver has more than fifty hirelings now.”
“There was no exact count made?”
“Nay, for Iver has sent a call out for more men, and the number grows a wee bit each day. Word about Drumdearg is that Iver expects another ten men verra soon. I have but eight and twenty men-at-arms prepared to go, no time to bring in or prepare any more of my people, and I cannae take every mon I have.”
“Of course not. Ye cannae leave your own lands unprotected. So we face Iver with thirty men—”
“Thirty-one,” said Nicol.
“Ye will join us?” asked Tavig.
“We are kinsmen.”
“Then welcome, kinsmon.” Tavig looked at Moira, smiling and taking her hand in his when he saw the worry in her eyes. “Mayhap ye and Una should leave us to discuss the battle, as it so clearly upsets you.”
“Aye, it upsets me, but I will stay. I should like to ken exactly what I am riding into,” she said.
Moira smiled slowly when she saw Una nod in agreement. It only took one quick look at the men’s faces to know that there was going to be a great deal of arguing. Moira refilled her tankard. Nicol, Mungan, and Tavig would soon discover that she could be as stubborn as any of them.