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A cheer went up from the watchers as finally the beam was forced into its resting place and suddenly Duncan swirled around, glancing in her direction. She shrank back into her fetid hiding place, holding her breath. Surely he couldn’t see her in the shadows? Someone came out bearing a tankard of ale for him and distracted, he turned away. The group of men all started slapping each other on the back and congratulating themselves in the rough way that men do and Ailsa took the opportunity to slink away, a hazardous idea taking seed in her mind. She had to do something, anything to change her situation.
Chapter Five
Ailsa steeled herself to go before Duncan and ask a favour of him. After hours of pacing back and forth trying to find her courage, she sought him out.
Her father’s old study was quietly situated in the east tower with a commanding view of the loch and encircling mountains. It had been Gordon MacLeod’s sanctuary against the bickering of his clan and family. It was a shock to see Duncan there in his place. He was absorbed with poring over papers and ledgers and seemed strangely out of place amongst such things, too large for the room somehow. Ailsa strode in as boldly as she could on shaking legs and stood before him. It wasn’t just anger and fear that made her heart feel as though it might thump right out of her chest.
Duncan glanced up at her in surprise as she stared at him balefully.
‘Lady Ailsa what a pleasant distraction,’ he said, slamming shut a ledger which sent a hoard of dust motes dancing up into the rays of the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows.
‘I’m not here for your pleasure. I come only to ask a favour of you.’
Duncan did not rise to her hostility. ‘Whatever the reason I am pleased to be diverted from this task. Please sit and I will send for some refreshment,’ he replied looking appreciatively at her in that insolent way of his as he pulled forward a chair.
Ailsa felt her temper start to rise. ‘No I do not wish to sit.’
‘If it’s a favour you seek you might want to replace tartness with sweetness. You’ll get more out of me that way,’ he countered, smirking.
Ailsa glowered at his smug, handsome face and, resisting the urge to slap it, took the seat stiffly. He leaned up against the edge of the table in front of her and Ailsa could not help but stare at his legs partially visible under his kilt and with a black fuzz of hair all over them. He was very close and she wished she were far away. Nevertheless, she gathered her wits and pleaded her case, hoping Duncan was in a good mood.
‘The kitchen is in disarray. It has not been properly supervised since….since your arrival. Food is allowed to spoil, we buy too much of some things or too little of others and there is theft and wastage occurring. Vermin are getting into the grain stores and that is not the half of it. The stables are neglected…’
‘I agree, the food has been very bad. So bad in fact that I have wondered if you MacLeods were trying to poison me out of here,’ he said laughing.
‘Poison is the least you deserve,’ thought Ailsa venomously, not joining in the laughter.
‘So what are you asking of me Ailsa?’
‘Look I know how the kitchen should be run and I propose that I take on the role of overseeing it.’
‘I would appreciate that. Do as you will. My men and I have strong appetites and I am sure you will improve on the grey slop we have been served recently,’ he said smiling at her.
‘Believe me, I don’t offer to do this for your benefit but for the benefit of the servants and villagers hereabouts who rely on our kitchens in time of hardship. And hardship they have received in good measure lately on account of you and your men.’ Ailsa couldn’t help but insult him nor could she keep the contempt out of her voice. She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, humiliation biting into her pride.
Surprisingly when he answered her there was no hint of anger or offence in his voice just something more akin to pity.
‘Do what you will with the kitchen,’ he said gently. ‘You know Cailleach best and I am sure you are more than capable of running it.’
‘The stables also?’ she continued.
‘They are your domain from now on. I shall not interfere…truly…,’ he said holding up both hands in mock submission.
Emboldened Ailsa pressed on. ‘Our harvest this year has been meagre due to the fighting. Crops of barley and oats have been left to rot in the fields. The castle’s orchards and gardens are thriving but it is not enough and I don’t know how we will get through winter.’ She looked up at him, trying hard to master her resentment of him.
‘Aye, men talk of glory and honour but I know full well that starving children, burnt homes and broken bodies are the spoils of war. I am aware of the hardship hereabouts and have taken steps…’
‘You speak so casually about suffering when you are the cause of it,’ she interrupted bitterly.
‘I alone am not the cause of it as you well know.’
He fell silent and Ailsa looked away. She could feel his intense gaze, burning into her.
‘I do not rejoice in your clan’s downfall nor do I seek to increase the hardship of its people…or yours Ailsa. I have seen enough fighting to know that there is no glory in the death of good men, only awful waste and desolation.’
Ailsa did not respond. She did not want to hear his justification for his brutality so she looked down at her hands and bit her tongue. Duncan continued nonetheless.
‘I have seen countless friends bleed and die for men who were not worthy of their sacrifice. When I was in Europe, selling my sword as a mercenary, I saw a king once at the head of a great army. He was just a very small man on a big horse, placed well back from our line. He did not lead his men into battle. He threw wave after wave of men at the muskets and the pikes and when too many had died for him to be victorious he simply turned his horse and rode away. I swore then I would never be like that king, throwing away the lives of others for power, or wealth or to crush those weaker than me.’
