Page 60 of Highland Spy

“I’m no’ goin’ in the water, dinna worry,” she told him. “We’re only spectators. Caleb will be doin’ the rowin’.”

The competition started off fine, and Henry MacDonald who had arms the size of tree trunks had no trouble pulling ahead of the others. But then it seemed his boat sprang a leak and, slowly, it started to sink.

Bridget’s father had slipped back into his past memories again. And when he saw Henry fall into the water, he cried out. “Nay! I’ll save ye. I will no’ let ye drown. Hold on, Greer, I am comin’.” He took off at a run for the water.

“Faither, nay!” shouted Bridget, pushing her way through the crowd, following him, stopping next to Logan.

“Bridget, what is yer faither doin’?” asked Logan, holding Slink under one arm.

“Logan, ye’ve got to stop him,” she begged him. “He thinks he is savin’ my mathair from drownin’ and he’s probably goin’ to jump in the water next.”

“What the hell do ye want me to do?”

“Stop him. Please. I need yer help. Bring him back before he makes a spectacle of himself in front of the king.”

“God’s eyes,” grumbled Logan, shoving Slink into her arms and sprinting after Brigham. Bridget watched, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Thankfully, Logan was able to catch him and keep him from entering the water. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Yer faither seems like he’s gone mad,” came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Valan peering over her shoulder. She jumped, and stepped away from him. Slink hissed at the man.

“Get away from me,” she spat through gritted teeth. She was afraid Valan might cause her trouble, but then Sorley walked up, thankfully interrupting. Valan stepped back, and walked away.

“Bridget, what is yer faither doin’ down by the lake?” asked Sorley. “I thought I heard him yell somethin’ about savin’ someone.”

“I’m sure he was just worried because Henry’s boat sank. My faither is always concerned for everyone’s well-bein’.”

“I see,” said the man, opening his book and lifting up his quill.

“Ye’re no’ goin’ to write that in yer book, are ye?”

“Why no’?” asked the man. “The king wants us to record everythin’. If yer faither so selflessly was ready to jump into the water to save a man’s life, then dinna ye think the king would want to read about it?”

“Please, Sorley. There is no’ need to put that in yer book.” Her eyes darted back to the king. He was watching the rowing and, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice her father’s actions.

“Bridget, is there a reason I shouldna write about it?” The man waited for her to respond, his quill held still above the page.

“Ye seem like ye’re very guid at what ye do,” she said instead of answering his question. “So, it is yer wish to someday be the king’s chronicler? Because I have a feelin’ ye are doin’ everythin’ in yer power to catch the king’s eye.”

“Bein’ the king’s chronicler is a job that is very coveted. I’d feel honored to ever have the opportunity to hold that position, just like anyone would.”

“Then just record the events of the Leader of the Lairds Competition, and no’ petty things such as an auld man runnin’ to the water, wantin’ to save someone’s life.”

“But that’s a heroic deed,” said the man. “Dinna ye want yer faither to be mentioned for it?”

“My faither has served the king well for many years,” she told him. “I ken ye want his job and, someday soon, ye might just have it. But dinna use trickery or twistin’ words to make someone look better or worse than they are. That is no’ respectable of a chronicler and naught what the king wants.”

“Wise words spoken from someone who should take her own advice,” said the man.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear, that mayhap it is time for an auld man to step down to make room for a much younger one at the top. Think about that. Because one way or another, I will get what I want, and ye canna stop me.” He put his quill down and closed his book, and turned and walked away.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the sky opened up and rain poured down, making everyone run in all directions. Thunder boomed and the sky became very dark as the winds picked up tremendously.

“Everyone, take cover,” the herald shouted as things began to blow around.

Then Storm called out, “The king has declared the rest of the competition will happen tomorrow mornin’. Villagers, please go to yer homes where ye’ll be safe from the weather. Those of ye stayin’ in tents, ye are welcome to spend the night inside the great hall.”