“Why all this work for some toadstools?”Wee Brian chimed in.While his face beamed with pride at the weight of his task as their chaperone, his voice was whiny.Typical post-adolescent boy, Ailith presumed.And a question she had learned to hedge very well.
“These stools can do many things.No’ only can they be used for many healing properties, they can help keep invasive plants out of an area.Weeds out of your turnips or barley stalks, for example.”
Wee Brian snorted in much the same way she’d heard William snort.Ailith and Sine shared a humorous glance at the resemblance.
“’Tis a fair bit of work for an herbal and weeds,” he intoned dryly as he marched a few steps ahead.
Post-pubescent indeed.Ailith grinned to herself as they reached the stones William had mentioned.From the moss on the north side, she believed the spot would work perfectly.
With only a few stools to plant, they finished before the sun crested the sky and made it back to the keep in time for the midday meal.Afterwards, Ailith returned to her chambers, lonely and too large without William with her, and she set about adding the new mushroom location to her parchment.
That night, she took her evening meal in her chambers and slept alone in the wide bed, empty without her husband’s presence and his large body curled around hers.
How had this man, in so short a time, managed to embed his way so deeply into her heart that when he was gone, it was like a part of her own body was absent from her?
It took her a while to fall asleep, and when she did, she dreamt of William.
Moray lands covered much of the east along the coast, interrupted only by the small pocket of Keith lands surrounding eastern Stonehaven, from south of Dunnottar into huge holdings farther north to the seat of the Mormaer Moray.They were not traveling that far and meeting the Mormaer –thank God for small favors,William thought.Rather, they were meeting with the Moray chieftain of the southern holdings, Malcolm Moray of the Aberdeen Morays.
Heading east, they entered Moray lands, and William had the same sensation as he did when he rode across the lands to Dunnottar with Ailith to attack the mad king.
One of wariness and dread.
Under hooded eyes, he glanced at his cousins and father; each of them was erect, focused, and ready for anything.
Evidently, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
The battle, only a fortnight past, would make this meeting any easier.William wondered how Malcolm Moray would receive them, even with a letter from the king.Ailith said not to trust the Morays, and William was more than willing to heed her words.
But if she was right, and the Morays were positioning themselves in power, then aligning with the new king would only serve them toward that purpose.
William hoped that Malcolm would see it that way.
The road was clear most of the way to Blair Castle – a reinforced tower surrounded by a foreboding stone wall where Malcolm and his men abided.Yet as they neared the towering palisade wall, that changed.A pair of guards flanked the closed gate.
Closed and unwelcome, William noted.
“Hold!”the guard in chainmail called out, holding up his hand.
They slowed their horses, and Bernard nudged his horse forward.
“I have a missive from King Causantín.Please escort us to your chieftain.”
The other guard stepped in front of the gate and was joined by two more who had been installed farther around the castle wall.They all held swords in front of them, and William had the sense this was going about as well as might be presumed when it came to the Morays.
Something about their posture William did not like.Nay, he did not like any of this at all.
“And who are ye, making claims on behalf of the king?”the guard shouted.
William exchanged a cautious look with Robb.
“Bernard MacDougal of the Drumoak MacDougals.”Bernard’s voice carried an air of authority.
The guard speaking was the shortest of the four.He looked around at his three companions nearby, then gave a derisive snort.He spat on the ground in front of Bernard’s horse in insult.Bernard did not react.
Behind him, William shifted his weight, rising in his left stirrup, ready to swing his right leg over the saddle and dismount.
“William,” Bernard snapped out, without looking back.Bernard had heard the quick creak of leather and knew his son was dismounting, not in the mood for the men’s disrespect.
