Gawen MacMurtray got to his feet. “Daerg said Kendric sent him home. He said his uncle could no longer stand the sound of his voice in his ears, and that if he did not at once board his boat and leave those shores, he would be forced to end his own nephew’s life.”
“He was jesting, surely,” Aye, hotheaded the members of the family might be at times, but they did not slay those of their own blood.
“I am no’ so certain. Daerg was no’ certain, which is why he left. Though,” Gawen said heavily, “it broke his heart to bring a defeat back to me.”
“No doubt.” Gawen MacMurtray did not easily accept disappointment, especially from his sons. And they’d felt that, all three of them, their lives long. It had made of Baen, the eldest, an exemplary warrior rivaling their famed ancestor, Ardahl MacCormac. It had made of Daerg a son so dutiful, he would roast himself alive on searing coals if his father asked it.
And it had made of Adair—what? A man who avoided such duty and the striving for such perfection. Who instinctively avoided the things with which he knew, to the bottom of his soul, no one could match up.
Gawen took an impatient turn around the floor, watched carefully by everyone else in the room. He had a temper that, in his younger days, had sometimes got away from him. His beautiful young wife, Adair’s mother, had helped him tame that. It rarely escaped him these days.
But Adair could see that he fought for control now.
“I ha’ spent most the day speaking wi’ Daerg. I do no’ blame him. I do no’ blame him for failing in the task I set.”
Adair wondered if that was true, if Daerg believed it was true.
“Kendrick MacCaigh proves stubborn and, according to your brothers, deaf to all forms of reason. He refuses to yield what is owed to me.”
What was owed—land.
Back in the old days, years ago, when both Father and Kendrick had been young men, Father had sponsored his new wife’s brother in a campaign to the land over the water. A place of opportunity, it was said to be. The agreement being that if Kendrick founded a settlement there, half of what he held would belong to Gawen.
Kendrick had never returned from Alba, though tales had come of a rich settlement. Now, with three grown sons, Gowen wanted his portion.
He’d sent Baen first, even though he wanted the portion in Alba for his second son, Daerg. Baen would inherit the lands here, in Erin.
This place Adair so loved.
“Father, ’twas a long time ago, that. Perhaps Kendrick feels since ’twas he who fought for the land, set up the settlement, and has held it all these years, he has a right to it.”
Gawen glared at Adair. “I do no’ doubt that is what he thinks. But there is such a thing as honor. We had an agreement.”
Aye, but a man seeing a young nephew he did not know arrive, seeking claim to what was hard won, might no longer see it that way.
“Where is Daerg now?”
Gawen waved his hand. “I sent him to rest. I do no’ blame him, nay, but I will admit I am sorely disappointed in him. I suppose I should have known better.
“I expected Baen would be the one to succeed. He is strong and competent, and carries my authority. And then I told myself it should be Daerg, since the lands are meant for him. But”—Gawen resumed his seat, facing Adair—“Daerg is not a persuasive man.”
The big room fell into silence. Gawen stared at Adair meaningfully. Adair gazed back at his father, sensing a hovering significance.
“Ye are.”
“I am what, Father?”
“A persuasive man.” A slight grimace of distaste crossed Gawen’s face. “Ye do not apply yoursel’ as ye should on the training field. Ye are certainly not first among my warriors. Ye prefer whiling away the time wi’ your friends, playing at draughts and listening to music. But by all accounts, ye do possess a silver tongue that could charm a flea from a hound.”
Adair, with dawning horror, saw where this was going. He did not speak. Glancing at the other occupants of the room, he noticed they exchanged glances.
“It seems,” Gawen said heavily, “it is what I need—someone with a silver tongue and the ability to talk Kendrick around, and make him see he does not want war.”
War?
“Perhaps I should have sent ye in the first place.”
“Nay.” Adair’s legs unfolded beneath him. He rose to his feet.
