Chapter 7
“There’s been noise coming from the courtyard all day,” Callum noted as he walked over to the window in his study to stare down at the courtyard below. There were people there, more than usual. “What’s happenin’? Is there somethin’ I missed?”
“Nae as far as I ken,” Hudson replied with a small shrug, joining him by the window.
“Odd,” Callum muttered, slowly returning to the great desk that stood against the wall, its surface covered in loose papers and bound pages. He sank into his plush leather chair with a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair as Hudson came to sit across from him, watching him intently.
Light streamed in through the window—it was an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perhaps that was why there were so many people in the courtyard. Some of them had to be merchants, there to display their goods, and others may have come for the services of the craftsmen behind the walls.
There is nay attack. I would ken it if there was. The bells would ring.
It was difficult to forget about war when it had been his everyday life for so many months. It was difficult to adjust to life within his castle walls once more, where he wasn’t under constant threat.
“So, what happened with Rhea?” Hudson asked.
Callum couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes at his friend. “Nothin',” he said. “Why should somethin’ happen?”
“Well, ye were all alone in the training yard,” Hudson reminded him. “And ye’re nae kent to be shy around lasses.”
“Rhea is me wife,” Callum replied, as if that should explain everything. “She’s nae some random lass.”
“I see,” Hudson said. “So, ye cannae perform because she’s yer wife?”
Callum shot him a scathing look. “Who says I cannae perform?”
“I did.” Hudson smirked. “Just now.”
“Well, daenae do that,” Callum grumbled, much to the man’s amusement. “It has nothin' to do with me bein’ unable to perform. For yer information, I never had an issue with that.”
“What is it, then?” Hudson pressed.
“Rhea wants me to court her,” Callum said. “So I’m courtin’ her.”
“Ye’re courtin’ yer own wife?”
“Aye,” he grunted. “Do ye have a problem with that?”
“Me? Nay.” Hudson shook his head. “No problem at all. Why would I have a problem?”
Callum was about to respond when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Reggie walked in, his eyes wide, his breath coming in hard puffs, as if he had run all the way to the study.
“Me Laird,” he said, almost hanging off the door handle as he tried to catch his breath. “Ye must come immediately.”
Callum was out of his seat before Reggie could even finish his sentence, and so was Hudson.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“The farmers are here,” Reggie explained, looking even more nervous than usual. “There are reports that their crops have been stolen.”
“Stolen?” Hudson frowned. “By whom?”
Callum didn’t need to ask to know who it was. There was only one person who could have done this—Laird Barclay.
“We daenae ken yet,” Reggie said. “But we will work tirelessly to find out. We have already sent scouts out—the few we have left.”
Callum let out a long, heavy sigh as he sat back down and let his head fall back against the chair.
How was he supposed to deal with this now?
Laird Barclay had hit them exactly where he knew it would hurt—the crops, which were the only thing Clan McMahon still had.
They were supposed to last them all winter.
They were supposed to have enough grain for everyone, so they wouldn’t be forced to pay another clan for theirs, but now he would have to dip into the castle’s reserves and hope that they could last the winter.
“Let’s go,” he grunted, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.
Hudson and Reggie followed close behind, the latter mumbling over and over about who it could be. He even mentioned Laird Barclay a few times.
Of course, everyone would suspect him. Who else wanted to weaken the clan?
Eventually, they made it to the Great Hall, where Callum found dozens of farmers waiting for him, all of them gathered for the same thing. The moment he stepped into the hall, conversations hushed, but then the complaints picked up, each farmer eager to express his grievances.
The crowd parted as he made his way to the other end of the hall, where his chair was waiting for him. They were scared of him, he realized. They were giving him a wide berth, not so much out of respect, but because they were too scared of him to remain close.
He sat down, flanked by Hudson and Reggie, and cleared his throat as the farmers gathered around him, their voices rising into a loud chorus.
“Enough!” he bellowed, and the hall fell into silence. “Good. Now, me councilman tells me that yer crops have been stolen. Is that correct?”
There was a chorus of ayes, this time quieter.
Callum hummed thoughtfully to himself. “All of yer crops?” he asked. “There is nae a single man here who was spared?”
“Those closest to the castle were spared, me Laird,” Reggie said, leaning closer to him. “The attackers have avoided the villages closest to us.”
Of course they did. Barclay isnae a fool.
“I can assure ye that ye will all be compensated for yer lost crops,” Callum said.
The farmers let out a collective sigh of relief. The crops were their only hope. They were their lifeline, and losing them meant that they and their families would suffer, that many would fall ill, that as many would die. And Callum couldn’t allow that.
Their fear soon turned into gratefulness as they looked at him, but he couldn’t find much joy in it. Not only did they think him beastly, but there was also no joy to be had when he knew there was a threat out there, one that was more serious than the farmers realized.
How far was Laird Barclay willing to go to get what he wanted?
Callum feared that the answer was too far. He had to get to the man before he got to him.
Beckoning Hudson and Reggie closer, he whispered to them so that no one else could hear. “This is Laird Barclay’s doing. I’m sure of it. He wants to destroy us because I refused to give him me sister.”
“Aye,” Reggie agreed grimly. “I figured the same.”
“We must fight back,” Callum muttered. “We cannae allow him to do somethin’ like this again, and we certainly cannae allow him to attack us first.”
“Callum, I daenae think this is a good idea,” Hudson said, shaking his head. “An attack now could decimate us. We are already weak after the war, and ye want to drag us into another?”
“What choice is there?” Reggie argued. “We cannae simply wait here for him to strike. We must strike first.”
Callum was quite surprised by his advice, as the man was cautious more often than not. And yet this time he was telling him to start another war, to bring the fight to Laird Barclay.
But would he truly be starting it?
No, Laird Barclay was the one who had started it by stealing crops just because he was a petulant man-child who couldn’t handle not getting what he wanted.
Callum wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Hudson insisted. “Callum, how are we supposed to attack Clan Barclay when we have neither enough men nor gold? How are we supposed to do anythin’ in the state we’re in right now? Nay matter what ye do, we will lose this fight.”
“Nay,” Callum said, shaking his head. “Nay, we cannae afford to lose. We cannae afford anythin’ but absolute victory.”
“Then we wait,” Hudson advised. “We wait until we have the men and the gold.”
“And when will that be?’ Callum scoffed. “Five years? Ten? Do ye think we’ll still be here if Barclay decides to attack us then?”
Hudson didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, but even if he did, Callum wouldn’t listen to him.
He had already made up his mind. The only thing that mattered to him now was protecting his clan.
He had come too far. He had tried too hard to let everything go to waste.
These people—his people—had been through enough strife and hardship.
“It is settled, then,” he declared. “Gather the council. We must speak about this at once.”
He stood, but Hudson was quick to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Where are ye goin’?”
“To see Sienna,” Callum said. “Deal with the farmers. Give them grain and coin. Make sure they have enough to survive.”
With that, he left the Great Hall.
Once again, the crowd parted for him, but this time they weren’t looking at him with blatant fear or disgust.
It’s the small victories.
He soon found himself outside Sienna’s chambers and knocked on her door. She called him inside, sounding as if she knew something was wrong.
“What now?” she asked, her face turning pale.
Callum almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, but how could he lie to her? The entire point of his visit was to tell her exactly what was on his mind. And yet, seeing her so concerned, so fearful, gave him pause.
“The farmers’ crops have been stolen,” he revealed, deciding it was best to simply tell her the truth without trying to soften it.
Sienna was a grown woman now, even if he still thought of her as a little girl. She could handle the truth. She had handled worse.
“Stolen?” she asked, a frown creasing her brow. “By whom?”
“Nothin' confirmed, but I’m sure it was Barclay.”
“Laird Barclay?” Her frown deepened, before rage took over her expression. “That weasel! He thinks he can do such a thing simply because I rejected him?”
“Aye, I suppose he does,” Callum said. “But this has nothin' to do with ye, Sienna. I’m nae here to tell ye to wed him.”
Sienna let out a soft chuckle. “I never thought ye’d say such a thing,” she assured him. “But Callum, if we’re in danger… if our people are in danger…”
“I’ll deal with it, I promise. Daenae fash.”
“Deal with it? How?”
“We’ll attack first,” Callum explained. “I… I have yet to speak to the council about this, so it’s nae finalized yet. But I cannae think of anythin’ else we can do.”
“Attack?” Sienna gasped, all the color draining from her face. “What do ye mean? How can ye speak of attacks when we have so few men?”
“It’s the only way, Sienna,” Callum insisted. “I willnae sit back and watch as that bastard attacks us again and again, weakenin’ us until there is nothin' left for us to do.”
“But Callum, how is this even possible?” Sienna asked. Then, her expression shifted into determination. “I will do it. If it saves us all, I will wed him.”
“Ye will do nay such thing,” Callum scoffed.
“It’s the best choice,” Sienna insisted. “He will get what he wants, and he willnae have a reason to attack us anymore.”
“What he wants, Sienna, is this clan,” Callum reminded her.
“Do ye think he will stop if he weds ye? He willnae stop until I’m dead.
The lairdship is all he’s interested in, and I willnae allow him to have it simply because he thinks we are weak and he has a chance.
I’d rather die fightin’ for this clan than die at the hands of a coward who will kill me with deceit. ”
Sienna considered that for a while. Then, she simply nodded.
What else was there for her to do? Surely, she must know this was the only option they had.
“I trust ye, Callum,” she said, reaching over to grab his hand.
He wrapped his rough, scarred palm around her hand, squeezing it tightly.
“I daenae want ye to leave. I daenae want ye to go to another war, but I trust that ye ken what’s best for us, for the clan.
If ye say ye must fight, then ye must fight. ”
Callum nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I will come back as soon as I can,” he promised. He wanted this fight to be quick and dirty, to finish it before Laird Barclay and his forces could overwhelm his own. “All I ask of ye is this: take care of Rhea.”
“Of course,” Sienna agreed without hesitation. “Of course, Callum. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”
Callum thought it was quite ironic how he had asked Rhea to take care of Sienna when he had left for war the first time, and yet now he was asking Sienna to take care of her.
They would take care of each other, he knew, just like they had the first time, but now he felt the need to ask this of his sister, to make sure that Rhea would be well while he was gone.
He was a terrible husband, leaving twice in such a short time. He had spent more time at war than he had with his wife, and now he was about to abandon her again, just as he had promised her that they would get to know each other better.
He was putting the clan before her. He was putting his duty to his people before anything else, and though he didn’t like it, he didn’t have any choice.
I only hope she can forgive me.