Page 68 of Highland Spy

The herald called out that Clement would now go up against Angus MacKenzie. Angus had already fought against every other finalist except Clement and Caleb, and won. Clement stared at Caleb, not saying a word. Then he turned and headed to the center of the field to spar against Angus. They were equally matched, but Caleb was sure Angus was about to be sabotaged somehow. But then Clement looked over to Caleb and nodded slightly. The next blow from Angus knocked the sword out of Clement’s hand, even though it didn’t seem likely. Clement must have purposely let go. The crowd cheered for Angus, and he raised his sword above his head triumphantly.

“The last man in the competition to fight against Angus will be Caleb MacKeefe,” announced the herald.

Caleb passed by Clement on his way out to the field.

“It looks like ye were wrong about me, MacKeefe,” spat Clement. “Because I seem to have been sabotaged as well.”

Caleb knew damned well that it was no sabotage. He saw Clement nod at him before he let go of his sword. Had he really thrown the competition, just to prove his innocence? Or had he done it to cover his tracks instead? What was going on here?

“Somehow, I’m no’ sure I believe that ye were sabotaged,” said Caleb.

“Perhaps ye’re the one sabotagin’ the others,” Clement told him. “After all, nothin’ has happened to ye yet, so it does look suspicious.”

“Ye lie,” spat Caleb through gritted teeth.

“Either way, ye’re about to win this competition and we both ken it. All that talk about winnin’ fairly and by bein’ honest is a bunch of crap.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means ye dinna belong in this contest because ye are no’ a laird. If ye win, it means nothin’ other than ye are collectin’ on someone else’s misfortune and that ye will make all the other lairds look weak in front of their clans, just like ye accused me of doin’.”

“Nay, it doesna.”

“Do ye really believe that, MacKeefe? I canna see yer chieftain, Storm, agreein’ to let ye wear the crown and keep the title, let alone give ye land and money that never should have been yers. But go on. Win the contest and get mentioned in the Highland Chronicles, because isna that what ye want? Word has it that everythin’ written about ye in that book is already a lie. Why should one more lie really matter?”

“Caleb MacKeefe, advance to the field now,” called out the herald.

Caleb walked out to the center of the field, suddenly feeling like a cheat, a liar, a loser, and, most of all, a failure in front of his clan and also the woman he loved. Taking his position, he glanced over to the dais where the king clapped and shouted out his name, calling him his champion. It didn’t feel so good anymore. He looked for Bridget, hoping to gain strength from her smile, but she wasn’t up at the dais. That bothered him. Where was she? Even her father wasn’t there.

Caleb’s sword blocked Angus’ first blow and they sparred with each other as more thoughts crowded Caleb’s head. Sure, he was competing as his laird’s proxy by request of the king. But like Clement said, was it really fair since he wasn’t a laird? Caleb had hoped to use the money and land to make a home with Bridget as his bride. He loved Bridget with all his heart and would do anything to keep her safe and happy. Then he thought of his father saying that a man’s legacy was carried on through his children and that he would never have that with Bridget. Family was important to Caleb. He’d always wanted lots of children of his own since he had many siblings. Would he regret having married a barren woman someday?

“What’s the matter, MacKeefe? Gettin’ tired?” asked Angus.

Aye, Caleb was tired, but not in the way Angus thought. He was tired of always second-guessing himself, trying to prove himself since he was smaller than most of the men in his clan. He was also tired of doing what everyone else thought he should do. He didn’t really care about winning this competition, he finally realized. Even if Bridget couldn’t give him children, or even if he didn’t have land and money or ever have his name mentioned in the Highland Chronicles, why did he even care? Clement was right. Caleb was being no better than him, or at least no better than the man who had been sabotaging the other contestants. Well, he was going to change his life, and it was starting right here, right now.

Caleb threw down his sword and raised his hands in the air, causing the crowd to cry out in surprise. Angus shouted in glee and lifted his sword high above his head.

“What are ye doin’, Caleb?” shouted Storm from the dais.

“I canna believe it. He just threw down his sword,” said someone else from the crowd.

“The winner of the sword fight event is Angus MacKenzie,” called out the announcer. “And now we will add up all the competitors’ points from the entire competition, and announce the winner of the Leader of the Lairds.”

Caleb picked up his sword and walked back to the rail to see the confused faces of his friends.

“What the hell did ye just do?” asked Hawke in shock and confusion. “My faither is goin’ to kill ye.”

“I lost the sword fight. So, what?” Caleb shrugged his shoulders.

“Lost, aye. But we saw ye give up and throw down yer sword when ye were sure to win,” said Logan.

“Well, it’s over,” answered Caleb. “I’m sure when they add up the points, we’ll find out that Clement won, and that is fine with me. He is a laird and I’m no’.”

“Is that what this is all about?” asked Ethan. “Ye feel as if ye dinna deserve to win because ye are no’ a laird?”

“Well, I’m no’,” Caleb pointed out the obvious.

“Bid the devil, ye fool. Ye just let down our entire clan,” Hawke ground out with a scowl.