Chapter Seven #2
The sisters indulged my questions patiently and willingly; I could sense that they were intrigued by me and eager to engage me in conversation.
“Queen Mary, it seems,” said Christie, “was wickedly jealous. She asked her husband to give up his mistresses, and he obliged her—partly. He ended his relationship with Elizabeth. But he continued to see his secret mistress. Mary had spies who revealed that the king continued his relationship with the second, secret mistress. Mary was outraged. She ordered her guards to kill the child and the mistress. The mistress was able to hide the child and was killed soon after. ’Tis a tragic ending.
But the child is believed to have escaped. ”
Ailie said, “But the child’s whereabouts remain unknown. Campbell believes that the child is dead, and that rights to Ossian Lochs should be forfeited instead, to him.”
“Is it not true?” I asked.
Ailie continued. “There’s no proof that the child is dead. The king believes him to be alive, and so does Knox.”
“Has anyone ever seen him?”
“I don’t know how they would identify him, even if they had,” commented Christie.
“The king is wary of imposters, so hasn’t divulged the child’s identifying features.
Several people have confronted King William with one lost child or another, claiming to present the son of the king.
But he has confirmed each time that those children are not his son. ”
I tried to recall Ogilvie’s discussions but couldn’t remember the finer details. “Why is it that Campbell feels entitled to Ossian Lochs?”
“King William’s sister married the laird of the Campbell clan many years ago, and bore a son to him.
She died in childbirth. Laird Campbell felt that his son was the rightful heir to Ossian Lochs, as the king’s nephew.
He refused the king’s decree that the missing child should claim the lands, since the child is illegitimate issue.
In most circumstances, that would mean he has no birthright to claim the land. ”
“So the Mackenzie army will fight to stop Campbell from claiming Ossian Lochs,” I said, making sure I understood.
Ailie nodded. “Our father led the battle to overthrow the rebellion. It was he who killed the elder Laird Campbell, but not before he was fatally wounded in the fight. Our father lost his life in that battle. And now the king’s nephew is old enough to renew the rebellion, to attempt to gain the land for himself and to avenge his father’s death.
Our brothers fight because Ossian Lochs are not the nephew’s lands to claim.
The king himself decreed it. Our brothers fight for the king of Scotland.
And they fight so that our father did not die in vain. ”
I felt their loss. I understood only too well the devastation the death of a father could introduce; my own father’s passing had been the single most pivotal event in my life—at least of those I had any recollection of.
“’Twas a good death, if there can be such a thing,” Christie said. “An honorable death. Our warriors will fight for the cause, as he fought. To serve the king and to honor our father’s memory.”
I worried at the thought of Wilkie going off to battle. But then, he was a warrior, and that was what they trained, day after day, to do. I knew firsthand that his skills and his strength would serve him well.
And although I had little knowledge of the intricacies of Highlands politics, I admit I found it interesting.
I had often listened to Laird Ogilvie, his ranks and his guests as they’d discussed boundaries and skirmishes, and I’d overheard enough to remember his take on the Ossian Lochs situation.
“The nephew is now the new Laird Campbell?” I asked.
“Aye,” confirmed Ailie.
I paused momentarily, remembering something: one of many snippets of information I’d regularly overheard as I’d served at the table of Laird Ogilvie. “Ogilvie sides with Campbell,” I said to Ailie and Christie.
The sisters stared at me, alert, understanding the implications of this, as I suddenly did.
“Is that so?” Dark interest burned in Ailie’s eyes. “How do you know this?”
“I heard him say it,” I said. “He plans to assist Campbell with his rebellion. Campbell has visited the Ogilvie keep, several times. I served him myself.”
Ailie was disturbed by this. “Knox is under the impression that Ogilvie sided with the king. As all of our neighboring clans do. Or so we thought.” Ailie’s thoughts were far away for a moment.
“So they amass a wider army than Knox thought,” she mumbled, as though speaking to herself.
“There may be more clans being approached by them, as well.”
Ailie squeezed my hand. Her eyes were bright, determined. “Roses. We must go and tell Knox of this news. You must tell them. They’re meeting with his officers, as we speak, in Knox’s private den. Come, they’ll be most interested in what you’ve shared with us.”
A meeting, with Wilkie’s brothers and fellow officers?
Sharing a table with the laird himself, a man who would like nothing better than to see me banished?
And Kade, the stormy-eyed brother whose weaponry was intimidating even to seasoned warriors?
The thought sent a bloom of apprehension through me.
Ailie might have read the fear in my expression. She placed her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t need to fear our brothers, Roses. They’ll be interested in what you have to say. The news you have provided might very well save lives, Wilkie’s among them. And we’ll be right next to you all the while.”
“Aye, Roses,” urged Christie. “We’ll not let them frighten you.”
Their words calmed me somewhat, but my heart seemed to have taken flight in my chest.
Wilkie’s sisters led me through a maze of hallways, to a small, narrow passageway. To the private den of the laird himself. Ailie knocked on the door and was rewarded with a deep and irritated call to enter.
Laird Mackenzie, Kade, Wilkie and four other men were already seated at a round table, and a fair feast had been laid upon it. My stomach growled at the scents of roasted duck, freshly baked bread and lamb cooked with sage.
The men appeared entirely shocked by our arrival. As soon as we entered the room, they stood in unison. Every single one of them stared at me. They took in my hair and the dress I wore, I couldn’t help noticing, for several long seconds.
Wilkie’s jaw dropped slightly in his shock, but his expression then adjusted, to one of quiet agitation. He glanced in turn at the four high-ranking officers at the table, noticing the direction of their gaze. Then his eyes returned to me. Was he angry at our intrusion? Or for some other reason?
“Knox,” began Ailie, “You must hear what Roses has told us. She has news of Campbell.”
“Campbell?” thundered Laird Mackenzie. “What news of Campbell?”
“You’ll definitely want to hear this,” said Christie, as though enjoying their suspense.
“In that case, Ailie, Christie, Roses,” said the laird, more politely now but no less forcefully, “join us.”
Wilkie jumped up, walking over to me. He slung his arm around my shoulders, guiding me to a chair next to his, and pulled it out for me.
His expression was no more readable than before, but his hands were sure: if I was to be here, among his family and peers, I would be seated next to him.
He poured me a goblet of ale, and he began to fill my plate with a selection of delicacies.
After some adjusting of the seating arrangement, Christie sat on my other side, and Ailie next to her. Their goblets were filled by Kade, and they helped themselves to small portions of food.
I sat, feeling small and wildly out of place, but the men seemed mostly at ease, although their eyes were discomfitingly curious.
“What did you wish to speak to us about?” began the laird, somewhat impatiently.
But I couldn’t speak. Their collective gaze was overwhelming me.
Wilkie sensed my extreme unease.
“Take a drink of your ale, Roses,” encouraged Wilkie, handing me my goblet.
I had never tried ale before, as Laird Ogilvie’s stores of it were limited, and he preferred to keep the drink for himself and his guests; servants were not offered such things.
I took a few long sips, feeling thirsty.
It had a bitter honeyed flavor I found pleasing.
“Slowly,” Wilkie said, almost smiling. “’Tis a strong brew. ”
I set my cup down, aware I was being observed by nine pairs of eyes: the Mackenzies and the laird’s officers, who were big, staunch-looking men with watchful eyes and plentiful weapons.
“Tell us what you know of Campbell,” Wilkie said, more gently than his brother yet no less urgently.
“I—I can tell you that Campbell was a guest of Ogilvie’s not a fortnight ago.
Or maybe just.” I readjusted, not knowing exactly how long I’d been here.
“I served their table. I’m certain that Ogilvie has offered his allegiance to Campbell’s rebellion at Ossian Lochs.
They discussed it in some detail.” I paused, having a passing thought that disturbed me.
“Ogilvie sides with Campbell?” pressed Laird Mackenzie, shock splashing across his words.
“Aye.” Something occurred to me then.
Wilkie detected my unease immediately. “What is it, lass?”