“Aye, that’s a turn up.” He smiled and pulled her down into his lap. He was sitting in the chair by the fire in his study. “I’m glad they saw fit to defendyerhonour, my dear. There is some hope of turning them into gentlemen yet.”
Chapter Twenty
Peace reigned for a week after that, but Col should have guessed some mischief was brewing because the boys were so quiet and well-behaved. It was well after midnight when a thunderous knock on the door woke him.
Aihan sat up. “What is it?”
He got out of bed, scrambling for his robe in the half light from the fire. “I dinnae ken, but it’s generally not good to be roused out of bed at this time of night.” Tying his robe round his waist, he headed for the door. “Stay here, lass, best if ye’re not seen in yer robe by half the neighbourhood!”
He ran down the stairs just as Fergus emerged from his quarters at the back of the house.
Col unbolted the front door and met the startling sight of Henderson and McBride, two of Earl Kirkcaldy’s retainers on his doorstep, with lanterns and stern expressions.
“Mac Sceacháin,” said Henderson, a tall, thin man with dour features and grey at his temples. “The Chief summons ye.” McBride, who was as tall but bulkier, with a dark, swarthy complexion, nodded.
“What the bluidy hell, it’s three in the morning, man!”
“Ye’ve a case to answer.”
“What—”
“Yer boys were caught attempting to steal the Chief’s cattle. Five head of his best cows from the pasture on the headland.”
Col blinked at him while his head reeled. Rory’s words came back to him:It’s nae stealing if it’s reiving.
“Fook!” he swore under his breath. “Aye, I’ll come, just give me ten minutes to dress. Where are the lads?”
“The chief has them detained.”
“Is my Willy with them?” asked Fergus over Col’s shoulder.
“He is.”
Col nodded. “Ye want to wait in the kitchen? I won’t be long.”
The men followed Fergus to the kitchen and Col ran up the stairs. Sticking his head into Aihan’s chamber, he found her dressed in shirt and breeches and swathed in a plain brown plaid, pulling on her boots.
“The boys?—”
“Aye, I heard. I’ll meet ye downstairs,” she said calmly.
“I don’t think it’s necessarily a good idea fer ye to come, Hana.”
“I’m coming. Ye’ll nae face this alone,” she said firmly. “Go get dressed.”
He hesitated a moment, kissed her, and went to his room to scramble into shirt, breeches, and jacket. He was tempted to wear a kilt as this was a clan matter, but it was too difficult to get the pleating right, he didn’t have time for that. But he did swing a plaid over his shoulder and belt it round his waist, as Aihan had done. It was cold out. He must get her a Thornton plaid made up. She’d look bonnie in the green and blue.
He met her downstairs moments later. Fergus joined them with the Chief’s men, and they left the house to collect two horses from the stable. He took Aihan up with him and Fergus rode Cat’s mare. He noticed grimly that the boys’ horses were missing.
The men’s reaction to Aihan was to look at her sideways and say nothing. Col decided against introducing them. Let them think what they liked, he’d not apologise for bringing her.
It took them half an hour to get to Ravenscraig Castle on the headland. As the two towers linked by battlements hove into view, black shadows against the sky, Col’s stomach muscles tightened with worry. The castle dated to the 1460’s. It was built by James II for his Queen, as a functioning defensive stronghold, in troubled times, and bequeathed to the Kirkcaldy’s, along with the title, by James III for services rendered to the crown. The landward side was blind, no windows—to make attack more difficult— which gave it a brooding, almost sinister air. Col shuddered in his plaid to think of his boys locked up inside its dungeons. The windows, Col knew, were all on the seaward side to take advantage of the ocean breeze.
Douglas Kirkcaldy was Chief of the Kirkcaldy Clan, of which Mac Sceacháin was a sept—a family, part of a clan with a different name. An attempt to steal his cattle was an egregious insult, and Col was sweating inside his plaid, despite the cold night air. He could only hope the chief would take a lenient view in light of the boys’ youth. But he doubted it. This was far more than a child’s prank. And if he’d raised them right, they would never have even thought of doing it. It was nothing short of outrageous. So, it was on him. This was his fault.
They left their horses in the stable on the landward side and made their way across the bridge to enter the castle via the postern gate to the west tower, and around to the entrance to the tower on the seaward side, where a narrow circular staircase gave access to the upper levels.
Henderson and McBride led them up to the hall on the first floor. The room was large and rectangular, with stone walls and timber floor and ceiling. The huge room had six large wooden posts, carved in the shape of pillars to hold up the ceiling. A hugehearth was set into the western wall, with large chunks of wood burning brightly and casting out significant and welcoming heat. This counteracted the cooling effect of the stone walls and wind that still managed to penetrate the room through the series of narrow slit windows in the southern wall, despite the fact that they had been filled with glass in the last century.
