Chapter One Unhorsed
Chapter One
Unhorsed
The air around the MacKeellan Keep was warm and jovial.
The keep had been hosting noblemen from Yorkshire, Baron Crimmons and his son.
These two blond-haired, blue-eyed, arrogant men were a frustrating mix for Evander.
They were arrogant, cocky, and often rude.
At the same time, they were happy to pay good coin for the war horses that MacKeellan Keep was known for breeding and fond of drink.
All of those combined meant that, from time to time, Evander had to endure a few weeks of headaches, and when they left, he could happily count his coin.
Tonight, he was drinking with the two men again.
His fingers were tapping on the table. His jaw was clenched. He smiled, even as they spoke rudely to his staff, tried to flirt with his maids, and had insulted him to his face more than once. Evander would make sure his staff were compensated for enduring these men.
The Great Hall was lit warmly, the fall air biting at the windows, fogging up the outside. The fire was crackling in the hearth. Evander took a deep breath, the smell of meat still hanging in the air, as he attempted to calm himself.
“’Tis thanks to the both of ye that I have such loyal staff,” Evander said. “I suppose I have much to thank ye for, even if I should not like to do so often.”
“Bahaha! Laird MacKeellan, you are much too entertaining for a Scotsman!” Baron Crimmons grinned. Evander nodded and smirked.
“Well, ye’re much too kind, my good friends,” Evander replied, leaning back in his chair.
He had learned long ago what pompous Englishmen were like, and he had simultaneously made his peace with it.
He almost had it down to a routine. Grin, take their coin, give them as much drink as they can take on.
It always made the transactions much easier.
The Baron’s son was drinking like a fish, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning rosy. They hadn’t noticed that they were drinking watered-down ale that was far past its prime.
The Englishmen never noticed.
“I am rather glad this has all been so easy,” Leopold said, his voice starting to slur. “The last horse you sold to me has become something of a prized possession of mine.”
“I am glad,” Evander nodded. “Those war horses are strong and handsome. A combination that can be difficult to come across.”
“Oh yes,” Leopold nodded, grinning. “All the ladies in London have been quite… enamored. Asking to take a ride.”
“The… Ladies?” Evander asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh yes,” Leopold nodded, grinning sloppily.
“English girls are rather easy to sway,” the baron chuckled. “A bit of gallantry in London goes more than a long way toward gaining their affections.”
A prickle of frustration ran through Evander’s chest. He had to take a deep breath so he did not immediately scream at these men.
“Those horses,” Evander said slowly. “Are war horses. They are made to be sent out into battle. They are made for war. Even if they are handsome beasts, they should nae be wasted and used for… flirtation.”
The baron rolled his eyes and went back to his drink. Leopold, however, looked agitated.
“You should not be worried about what we do with the animals once we have bought them,” Leopold scoffed.
“I am saying that ye paid a handsome price for war horses; ye should use them as war horses,” Evander said, sipping his drink. “They should be used to show ye prowess in a fight. Surely, the ladies would find that much more interesting.”
Leopold snorted.
“If I were not a nobleman, then I could fight just as well as any Highlander,” Leopold scoffed. “I could fight you for being so… presumptuous.”
“Leopold,” his father hissed.
“Nay, nay, let the lad talk,” Evander said calmly. “I am sure that he has some expert knawlege on war horses that I, as one of the people who has been breeding these animals since he was a bairn, have never considered.”
“You gorebellied fool,” Leopold growled, standing up.
“Leopold,” the baron spat out. “Sit down.”
“I will not sit here and be insulted!” Leopold scoffed.
Evander swirled the weak ale around his tankard.
He could not help but make these men frustrated.
In truth, it was all the more fun to do so when they were in this state, when they had been just as rude to his staff.
He leaned back in his chair. He had long since realized that hubris and pride seemed to be generational curses in this family.
Another prod might send this foolish boy over the edge.
“If I have insulted ye, lad, then are ye not entitled tae seek yer satisfaction?” Evander asked, drinking more of his ale. The bitterness felt better sliding down his throat, knowing he was winding up this bampot.
“Satisfaction,” Leopold laughed. “Yes, I demand satisfaction!”
“Leopold, you do not!” Baron Crimmons stood up, grabbing his son by his wrist. “Laird MacKeellan, I am sorry. It would appear my son has had much too much to drink. We should retire for the night.”
“I demand jousting!” Leopold shouted as his father tried to pull him away.
“Leopold, enough,” Baron Crimmons hissed.
“I thought it was my choice on which weapons were used?” Evander said, swirling his drink around.
“Please, do not humor him, my Laird,” Baron Crimmons pleaded.
“The lad has asked for satisfaction,” Evander replied.
“He cannot ask a man who is not a nobleman to a duel,” the baron scoffed.
“Duels are also illegal,” Evander said. “That dinnae appear tae stop the English nobility from continuing tae hold them.”
“But—” the baron started.
“Choose the time and place!” Leopold shouted over him. Evander smirked slightly as he took in the violent anger on the man’s face.
“Tomorrow, next tae the loch,” Evander replied. “We shall do it in the afternoon when the sun is at its peak.”
“We shall,” Leopold said, spitting in Evander’s direction before storming out of the room. The baron seemed to visibly deflate as he watched his son leave.
“Please, do not seriously go through with this, my Laird,” the baron said. “I do not wish my foolish boy to embarrass us so.”
“Ye’re not doing very good as his second,” Evander said, taking a deep drink. The baron groaned and put his drink back on the long table.
“Why are you indulging him in this nonsense?” the baron scoffed. “It is not as if you have insulted him deeply. He will awaken, sober, and back down. You know all of this as well as I do,” he continued. “So, tell me. What is it you really want from this farce?”
“Ye’re astute, baron,” Evander chuckled. “I am in need of something for myself and my lands.”
“We cannot give you more money,” the baron said. “We are buying more horses from you. There is little more that I can do for you monetarily.”
“I never said anything about coin,” Evander said. “Ye have a daughter, do ye not?”
He watched the color drain from the baron’s face.
While Evander had never been much of a fan of the idea of marriage, not since his brother, he knew it was a necessary evil.
Something he may have to endure for the sake of the clan.
He had made no effort to expedite this process, but he was well aware that the baron had a daughter, and if he had the opportunity to embarrass the baron and his boy and get what he needed well… Who was he to argue with fate?
“You would not ask for her,” the baron whispered.
“I would,” he replied. “I am in need of heirs,” he sighed. “And are ye not the one who said that English lasses are easy enough tae charm?”
“I…” The baron tensed. “My Laird, you cannot ask for this.”
“Can I not?” Evander asked. “Or am I right tae ask for these things considering yer son has asked me for a duel when I am a laird, not a nobleman, and ye both have spent days insulting me and my staff?”
The air between them froze. The baron snarled at him.
“You cannot have my daughter.”
“Then I suggest ye dinnae let yer son lose the joust,” Evander said with a smile. The men stared at each other, and then the baron left, slamming the door behind him.
Evander let his shoulders relax, and he took a deep breath.
“I need better ale.”
The next day came quickly.
Evander was in front of the loch early, his horse at his side.
He checked his lance. He was not entirely cruel.
He had asked his servants to make sure the lances were blunted and to not allow Leopold access to the war lances.
Nobody needed to die for Leopold’s hubris.
Eventually, the baron and Leopold appeared at the scene.
Leopold looked worse for wear, with deep circles under his eyes and sweat-slicked skin.
Would he perhaps back down? But his question was answered in the next second.
“Let us finish this,” Leopold grumbled as he got onto his horse.
“Are ye not supposed to send yer second in first?” Evander asked.
“This is not a real duel, so there is no need to,” Leopold scoffed.
“Ye seemed tae believe it was real enough last night,” Evander said with a grin.
“That was when I was drunk!” Leopold barked.
“So, if ye win, there is no honor in it?” Evander asked.
“There is no honor in beating a Scottish brute,” Leopold scoffed. “All of you are much the same. Brutish, uncouth, and arrogant.”
“Do not listen to him,” the baron hissed to Leopold. Even so, Evander could see the younger of the men was letting his temper get the better of him.
“I do not need any honor from you, cur!” Leopold shouted.
“If there is no honor, ye dinnae need tae be so angry,” Evander said.
“Silence!” Leopold shouted. “If I win, you must take that back!”
“And if I win, I get yer sister,” Evander shouted. Leopold’s face paled.
“You-what?” Leopold looked at his father, who was glaring at Evander.
“Indeed!” Evander shouted. “Or, ye can back down now, and ye can prove tae everyone at the keep that ye are a cowardly fool!”
Leopold opened his mouth and then glanced around. People from the keep and the clan were starting to arrive to watch.
Evander had known that word would spread and that these Englishmen would not be able to back down in front of an audience.
The two men looked at each other. The baron shook his head.
Leopold looked at his father, out at the crowd, and then at Evander.
Leopold snatched up his lance and climbed upon his horse.
Evander grinned and did the same. The pair of them aimed at each other.
“Ready?” Evander called.
“Ready!” Leopold shouted.
A guard went to the halfway point between them and raised his hand. He looked between them and then swiped his hand down.
The two men raced at each other, the stallions kicking up mud and turf behind them.
Around them, the crowd cheered and screamed, most of them in favor of Evander, a handful shouting in pity for Leopold.
Evander ignored them all. He had grown up on these fields.
He had been learning to fight since he was a bairn.
He was well aware that if he aimed his lance right…
“ARGH!” Leopold screamed as Evander’s lance met the center of Leopold’s chest. The man fell backward, unhorsed.
Leopold’s head met the ground with a harsh thud.
The crowd gasped. Then Leopold began to sit up, and the people all let out a breath of relief.
Evander trotted over and jumped off the horse, reaching down to help Leopold up. Leopold slapped Evander’s hand away.
“Do not touch me,” Leopold hissed.
“Are ye harmed?” Evander asked.
“You do not need to ask me such ridiculous questions,” Leopold growled as he stumbled up. The baron ran over and helped his son stand.
“I am being polite,” Evander said. “Especially as our families are soon tae be linked.”
“No, never,” Leopold hissed. “We will not be handing over my sister!”
“Leopold,” the baron sighed, exhausted. Leopold looked at his father, horrified.
“Father, you cannot be serious?” Leopold whispered.
“You should not have jousted if you were not prepared to pay the price, you fool,” the baron said, standing up. He sheepishly turned to look back at Evander, knowing he had no other choice if he didn’t want his family to be further shamed. “When shall the wedding take place?”
“In three months’ time,” Evander said. “That should give ye enough time tae go home, collect her, and bring her back.”
Silence enveloped the field, only broken by the wind whistling between them. The baron looked down at his son and then back at Evander.
“We shall bring her.”