“Throw it,” Keira said from beside him.
“Why?”
“It is a game,” she said with a shrug.
“Seems senseless to me,” he muttered. “Who throws it?”
“McGregor, the man standing over there,” Keira replied in a cool voice, pointing at a redheaded man who stood beside the huge metal gong, which served as a bell. He was the moderator. “He will decide who carries the wood. He likes to choose older men.”
“Why?” Horace asked, alarm evident in his tone. Violet almost pitied him. “Why does he not choose younger men?”
“He says older men have more experience,” Keira explained, her tone somber.
“What happens if you do not throw it properly?” he asked with all seriousness. Violet had to fight to keep her mirth in check.
“Well, that is a very big problem,” Keira answered, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Ye will have to be flogged.”
“Flogged?” Horace exclaimed, drawing the attention of the people nearby. His face was red with disbelief. “You cannot mean it.”
“Aye, I do.” Keira said with a curt nod. “They will place ye on yer stomach and paddle yer backside. Most folks arenae able to sit for weeks.”
“That is barbaric,” he scoffed.
“Ye just have to pray that ye arenae chosen then,” Keira said, fighting back a devious smile.
Violet had to disguise her laughter with a cough.
Her father looked pensive now. It was funny, but considering the pain he had put her through, he deserved a spot of discomfort.
21
McGregor rang the bell, and the men filed out bare-chested, with just their tartans tied around their waist in kilts and slung over their shoulders. They came in different colors, sizes, and shapes, but they all looked fit, their bodies honed into weapons, lean muscles with no fold in sight.
Ruaridh was in their midst, his dark hair tamed into a knot at the back of his head. He was smirking at Laird McLeannen, saying something she could not hear from a distance, but from the way the other man shouted back, she was willing to bet he was mocking him.
His competitive side was interesting to watch, and she was excited for it.
The bell rang, and the first man stepped forward. He was a stout man called Dougal the Red, from Clan McCommirck. He bent at the knee to take the caber and locked it to his chest before straightening to assume a wide-legged stance. Then, with short,fast steps, he launched the wood forward amid a roar from the crowd.
Everyone watched with rapt attention as it flipped from end to end and landed perfectly on its wide end, eliciting a wild cry of joy from the crowd. One of three judges went to measure it.
Keira cheered, and when Violet turned to look at her father, he was engrossed in the game.
Seems that Sir Horace is starting to enjoy barbaric entertainment,she mused with a smile.
After a congratulatory thump on his back from the men, Dougal the Red stepped out of the waiting line. Then, it was Laird McLeannen’s turn.
The large man stepped forward, his steps heavy. In terms of strength, one would think he would have no problem with the caber, but Violet knew better. Caber toss depended more on technique than brute strength. She had learned that watching Ruaridh practice. One foot placed wrong, and the caber would roll on its merry way to failure.
Laird McLeannen stepped forward then, squatted to take the caber, but something about his balance was off, so he wobbled while rising, eliciting a worried sigh from the crowd. When he stood feet apart, everyone held their breath. Violet even felt her father shift in his seat.
He made the run, then launched the caber.
At the beginning, all went well. It flew once in the air, then landed on its side and rolled down to meet Dougal’s. A brief silence ensued, and the judges were shaking their heads, not bothering to stand up to check the distance.
They did not need to. Anyone familiar with this game already knew he would lose from the onset. His form was not great, and the wobbling did not allow him to place the caber properly. Even if he was given points for the distance, the caber landed wrongly, not very far from where he stood.
Looking in Ruaridh’s direction, Violet saw him pat McLeannen on the back in what was supposed to be consolation, but she also saw his lips twitch and knew he was mocking the man, who just waved him aside and exited the lineup.
