Chapter 16
“A
nother?” The alehouse barkeeper shook his head, half inclined to back away from the tall man slumped over the table when he bellowed for another glass of whiskey. “Dinnae ye think ye’ve already had yer fill?”
It felt to Callum as if the taproom was turning circles around him. When he moved, it seemed as though his stool was tipping. He was drunk.
“Give me another, goddammit!” he slurred, biting back the bile that rushed into his throat as he tossed the drink down.
Every man in the taproom had started to edge away from Callum.
He had his broadsword strapped behind his back, after all, and the man looked as if he could handle himself well in a fight, legitimate or otherwise.
From the way he gripped the sides of his hair and gazed wildly around the room when he heard a woman’s voice, the alehouse patrons could see the man was nigh mad with regret.
He had betrayed one lady to get vengeance for the death of another.
Callum had asked the captain of the guards where the soldier with the scar on his cheek shaped like a crescent moon had set up his bolster.
The captain had looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
“Auld Simon, ye mean? He was a soldier at MacTavish Castle over twenty years ago, lad, back when I was still using a wooden sword to train with! I cannae remember where he ended up. I think he lost his arm in a skirmish an’ then disappeared.
Why don’t ye go down to the bailey an’ ask the previous captain of the guards where auld Simon might be? ”
Callum had jogged down to the croft that had been pointed out to him as the old captain of the guard’s home.
At least he could kill the man after he found out where the soldier called Simon lived.
He would sleep better at night knowing the man who had stuck a dagger into his mother’s belly was dead, and the captain who had given the order for the children to be ripped from their mothers’ arms would be dead just as soon as he told Callum where he could find Simon.
He rapped on the door, shifting his eyes from side to side to see if any of the villagers were showing interest in the old captain’s visitor.
The road was empty. No one came to open the door.
“Lift the latch… The door’s open… Come in why don’ ye?” a thin, reedy voice quavered from inside.
Callum did as he had been asked, but this was so far and away from what he thought confronting the man who had condoned his mother’s death would be like, Callum was confused and hesitant.
An old blind man was seated in a chair by the fireside.
The reason for his blindness was easy to see: a sword stroke had hacked across the bridge of the man’s nose and must have removed his eyesight with one blow.
The wrinkled eyelids were closed, but Callum could see the sockets underneath them were empty.
“Are ye the auld captain of the guards?” But Callum already knew the answer.
“Och lad, aye, that I was. But I had to leave me post twenty years ago after a skirmish with the pirates. They attacked the laird’s half-brither’s tavern, ye ken…
burnt it to the ground after some dispute about money.
Every man an’ woman inside the tavern was burnt alive.
” The old man wiped at his eye sockets as if the memory of the tears could still be felt.
“The screams were awful an’ haunt me to this day.
Fortunately, nay bairns were inside. They had already been taken to Castle MacTavish and then fostered out to other lairds across the Highlands.
But ye sound too young to bother yer head about such ancient history, lad. What brings ye here?”
“Does nae MacTavish still get slave girls from the pirates to work at his castle?” Callum leaned against the wall, watching the old man’s hands move over the table to where a bowl of thin gruel was standing.
[new paragraph] The old man took a faltering sip after dipping in a wooden spoon, before replying.
“That arrangement fell through after the fire.” The old man took another slurping sip.
“Most of the laird’s gold came from the pirates and slaves.
It’s been twenty long years since he made any profits.
It’s that temper o’ his. He kills more stock than he sells.
It’s such a waste! So many young lasses walked through those evil portals an’ never came out again.
” Another sip. “The laird can only raise his pleasure for young, pure maidens, ye ken. An’ with the supply dried up, it makes him even meaner.
It was almost a mercy that I got pensioned off before he lost most of his gold.
That’s the problem with all these warring lairds.
They concentrate on building up their army instead of making peace with their neighbors in exchange for crops.
” The old captain put down the spoon. “What brings ye here? Are ye one of those who love war enough to forgo payment for it?”
“I am lookin’ for a soldier called Simon. I hear he worked under ye?”
The old captain did not even have to cast his mind back.
“Auld Simon Milne? He’s dead many years now.
Got taken by pirates while on patrol along the coast. They hanged him from the yardarm for six days before emptying his guts out onto the ground.
I heard tell he lived for another two days after they did that, but I had stopped riding up there to check by then. Too dangerous.”
Callum felt as though his own innards had been ripped out in a similar fashion. Only it was his revenge that was spilling out onto the ground like a useless pile of guts.
“How many men—soldiers—are left up at the garrison now? Four lie dead on the road, slain by MacTavish enemies.”
The old man did a quick calculation. “That leaves…nine men. Aye, nine men left to guard the once-great castle of the MacTavishes. They are all new, however; there is no one left from my own days. That’s what happens when ye waste yer time wenchin’ an’ warring.
Say, when do ye lads march out to take the Calvin estate?
I heard one o’ the soldiers laughing that Laird Hamish planned on moving in there once he had taken the Calvin daughter as a bride.
The girl’s faither must be a doaty idjit for trusting a man like Hamish MacTavish. ”
The old man was speaking to empty air. Callum had seen and heard enough. He left without even bothering to close the door after his departure, striding down the main thoroughfare of the bailey village, his expression dark and forbidding.
Why have I been focused on my revenge with no thought to anything else? It only served the purpose of allowing so many other things to slip past me notice. Of course MacTavish is going to invade the Calvin estate. He needs land with abundant crops and cattle so he can build up another army again.
Twenty years Callum had waited, never thinking that the men who had helped in the murder of his mother would grow old or die as he grew to manhood.
The captain of the guards must be nearly five and seventy years old now!
Yet he was etched into Callum’s memory as a strong, broad man with iron-gray hair with an imposing figure.
One sword slash across his face had turned that strong man into the wizened cripple living an empty, solitary life in a drafty croft.
I have been blinded by me hatred. It is an emotion more fitting for a child to feel, not a rational, wise man.
For so long, those men have lived on in me mind, eternal and unchanged.
Why did I not realize they were men of war, doomed to die a terrifying and horrible death, or else sink down into ignoble, damaged auld age?
Am I setting meself up to follow in their footsteps?
But his rationalizing brought him to the right conclusion eventually: the master of his destiny and sorrow had been Hamish MacTavish all along, and if Callum did naught to stop him, the laird would rise again like a triumphant phoenix from the ashes, but this time it would be with Meria by his side and ruling over Calvin land.
He’d had the chance to stop it from happening, but he had not. His thirst for vengeance had caused him to neglect his love.
There was no doubt that he was in love with Meria. Callum MacNair also had no doubt in his mind that MacTavish would not find her to be a maiden…
They were asleep by the fire, but the temperature inside the cavern was rising as the cold weather got pushed out by the approaching warm air.
Meria shifted in her sleep, throwing the plaid aside and moaning softly as her skin perspired.
He felt her move, her back and bottom grinding against his groin as she dreamed about their conversation.
He was wide awake in an instant and so rampant he had to loosen the belt holding his trews.
Not even thinking, his hand slid in between her thighs to caress her.
She was warm there, and his stroking fingers made her grind harder against him.
He loosened her knotted belt; she was still half asleep but whispered for him to continue.
It was easier because they had not been facing one another.
He murmured her name into the curls on top of her head…
the knot was loose…he slid his hand inside.
The trews she was wearing were baggy, accommodating to his hand.
He wanted so desperately to pleasure her.
What harm could it do? She was warm and wet, rocking against his fingers with an urgent movement.
Suddenly, her eyes were wide awake and staring at him.
Fumbling desperately, she freed him from his trews and gripped him.
It was not enough. So close as not to care any longer, he had spread her thighs wide and…
No, Laird Hamish MacTavish would not find Meria Calvin to be a maiden.