When the farmers had gone, he turned to Zander and Findlay. “I reckon Nurkirk’s behind this, as revenge for what happened the other week when I threw him out on his ear,” he told them, furious by now. “I willnae let this lie. I want revenge on that simperin’ dog. If he wants a fight, then he’ll get one all right.”
“’Tis easy enough to say that, Edan, but the men are exhausted by a year of war. They’re nae ready for more battles,” Zander pointed out.
“I cannae agree with ye, Zander,” Findlay put in. Edan noticed how disturbed he seemed by the whole incident. “The Laird’s right. We should attack Nurkirk without delay and remove him from the picture if possible. He’s trouble, and he should pay with his life for attackin’ our clan before it goes any further.”
“Aye, I agree, Findlay. I dinnae want to fight any more than the next man. I’m tired of fightin’ too, Zander, but I have to put a stop to this as soon as possible.”
Zander shook his head dubiously. “The men arenae fit for battle, I tell ye,” he insisted.
“Then make them ready, man,” Edan ordered him with an air of finality. “Because we’re goin’ to put an end to this before it gets any worse.”
Deeply troubled as well as furious with Nurkirk, Edan strode off and left the two men standing. He went immediately to find his grandmother, his heart full of misgivings at having to tell her what had happened. He knew exactly how upset she was going to be when she found out that he had to leave again, to go and fight yet more battles. But he had no choice. There was too much at stake not to fight.
“Ach, lad, this is a terrible turn of events,” his grandmother told him, tears forming in her eyes. He had found her in her chambers, resting. “Ye’ve only just got home from the war, with everyone sayin’ ye were dead. And now there’s this new threat hangin’ over us. But ’tis always this way for the Laird.” She gripped his hand tightly. “And each time ye go away, I worry it’ll be the last time I see ye. I’m old. What if I die before ye come home?”
“Grandmaither, dinnae make it any harder for me to go than it already is. Do ye think I want to leave ye again? Nurkirk had given me nay choice.” He tried to put a lighter spin on the dire situation. “Anyway, ye’re as tough as old boots. Ye’ll be here when I get back, all right.”
But she did not look convinced. “I pray the good Lord makes it so, lad, and that he keeps ye safe while ye’re away. I ken ye have to go, and ye ken best what must be done.”
Edan bent and kissed her forehead. “Thank ye for understandin’, Grandmaither. While I’m gone, will ye take care of Olivia for me?”
“Ye dinnae have to ask me, lad. Of course, I’ll do me very best for her,” she promised, tears starting to roll down her weathered cheeks as he left.
That evening after supper, Olivia was tucking Greta into bed as usual, chattering about upcoming celebrations. “Now that I dinnae have to plan me dates with Edan, I can put all me efforts into our plans for St. Patrick’s Day. That’s comin’ up very soon. Now that Edan’s back, I think we should host a special celebration for The Turning of the Light as well.”
The annual festival of the Turning of the Light marked the vernal equinox, the halfway mark between the seasonal equinoxes dividing winter from spring. The Turning of the Light festival for that year was due on the fourth of February. Despite the sway of the Church, celebrating the old pagan festival was an important part of Highland life.
“What do ye think, Greta? Our first one as man and wife. That would be nice, eh?”
But instead of answering with the expected enthusiasm, Greta only sighed and appeared restless, as though unable to focus properly on what Olivia was saying.
“What is it, dear? Is somethin’ on yer mind?” Olivia asked, growing concerned.
The question seemed to get Greta’s attention at last, but Olivia found her anxious expression even more worrying.
“Ach, Edan will soon tell ye, lassie,” the old lady replied.
“What does that mean? Why can ye nae tell me yerself when ’tis obvious something’s troublin’ ye?” Olivia asked, worrying that the old lady was ill.
“I’d like to tell ye, lass, but ’tis nae me place. Ye’d best hear it from Edan.”
“Greta, dinnae do this to me, I beg ye! Please, tell me what it is.” Olivia was frantic now, suspecting Megan was right and something awful was about to happen.
“Ach, all right, I’ll tell ye,” Greta relented. “Edan is leavin’ again soon,” she confessed.
“Leavin’?” Olivia gasped in shock, fury taking hold of her. “How could he even think of it?! I must go and speak to him right away. Goodnight, Greta.”
She hurriedly kissed the old lady’s cheek and bid Jane goodnight as she rushed out of the room, going in search of Edan. She headed for his chambers and did not even stop to knock before stepping inside.
She halted on the threshold when she found him at the washstand, naked to the waist, shaving. Distracted by the sightof his naked chest, she paused for a moment, almost forgetting why she was there.
“Well, we’ve only had one outing so far, but ye seem awfully keen,” he said teasingly, putting down his razor and wiping the soap from his chin with a clean rag before throwing it down.
It was too much for Olivia.
“Greta says ye’re leavin’ again. When we’re ye goin’ to tell me? Or were ye goin’ to sneak off in the middle of the night? Well, I’ll nae allow it. Ye cannae leave!” she shouted, clenching her fists in anger.
He sighed. “Aye, ’tis true, I’m afraid. Something’s happened, and that means we have to go and fight again.”
