Page 17 of Laird of Sighs (His Highland Heart #5)
CHAPTER 17
L ater, Stellan and Anders held a quiet conversation while the others, including the Sinclair guards meant to watch them, shared hunting and fishing mishaps they had suffered, to roars of disbelief and hoots of laughter. The noise they made was the perfect cover for the twins to discuss their next move.
“Ye were right that I have strong feelings for Ailsa. Ye heard her say her father willna accept the idea of our wedding, but ’tis the best way to end this siege and let everyone go home. I believe Ailsa still hopes to convince her mother to change his mind. Somehow.”
“’Tis worth a try.”
“If Ailsa is right and Sutherland has more than one thousand men camped around Sinclair, her father must ken he canna win at this game he’s playing.”
“Nay, he canna. Sutherland would be in a stronger position, except for us being in here.”
“And except for one very bad piece of news she gave me.”
“How bad?”
Anders let his gaze rove over the Sutherlands occupying the other cells, all focused on making as much covering noise as they could. “The Sinclair has tired of the siege and has begun to listen to his son’s counsel. If aught doesna change soon, he will begin to kill a Sutherland, one at a time, until the army outside his walls breaks camp and leaves. Ending with me, saving ye for a final inducement.”
“Well, that’s some comfort to me,” Stellan quipped and Anders forced a laugh.
“If Sinclair is fool enough to start down that path, ’twill do him nay good,” Stellan continued. “Da willna accept the deaths of our men. He will tear down this keep and kill every man in it.”
“Aye, and he has enough men to do it.” Anders shook his head. “I canna ken what Sinclair hopes to accomplish, save that their supplies are limited and so long as he has ye, he considers the rest of us expendable. The force outside his walls can hunt and fish, cut down his forests, do whatever they wish while he is locked up in here. Once food runs low and his people begin to starve, he’ll start tossing the rest of us off his walls if by then he hasna already. All save ye. For the rest of us, dead or alive willna matter.”
“Where are his allies? Has he sent word to the Norse king?”
“Ailsa hasna mentioned that. I dinna ken. But ’tis likely that Rose and Brodie ships guard the entrance to Sinclair Bay, so if he reached out before Sutherland arrived, they willna be able to reinforce Sinclair by sea, and ye can be sure Da has patrols out looking for trouble from the landward side. Ailsa hasna said yet whether Raghnall will allow any of us to help harvest the fruit trees in the orchard. It lies behind the kitchen garden, much closer to the forest outside its wall than anywhere else around the keep. But we can only get out that way if they are foolish enough to let all of us into the orchard together. A few at a time leaves the rest here to suffer for any who escape.”
“Even if we canna get out that way, ’tis a good idea. These lads need some time out of this place,” Stellan said and looked around with a frown. “I dinna ken what the season is outside but ’tis colder here, and at night, so dark I canna see my hand in front of my face. The only light is around the corner and down the hall for the guard. Little to none of it reaches these cells. During the day, they give us more light. What if they stop doing even that?”
“Ailsa would put a stop to all of this if she could.”
“Aye, but she canna. We are Sutherlands. We will tolerate what we must and do what we can until this is over.”
Ailsa heard her mother’s voice as she entered the kitchen after her visit to the dungeon. Maesie would be waiting for her to help with the plant harvesting. They still had to keep a record of what was left and how soon it might be ready to use. Ailsa didn’t see what was gained by doing this every day, but her mother insisted.
“I told him to leave the cats alone,” her mother complained as she stalked out of the kitchen. Cook followed close on her heels.
Ailsa hurried to catch up. Her mother’s angry tone was not something she often heard. That was bad enough, but Cook’s worried expression chilled her. “What has happened?”
Lady Sinclair stopped, whirled to her daughter and pressed her lips together, her fury palpable in the sudden silence of the great hall. “Cook found rats in the granary,” she snarled. “Rats that the cats wouldha killed, but the few that are left are hiding and no’ doing their job. Yer brother decided they were more of a challenge to hunt than the rodents, and yer father said naught against him. What sort of son have we raised?”
She whirled, continued her stomp across the great hall to the solar, and flung open the door.
The solar was empty.
“Where are they? I’m going to flay them both!”
She hurried past both Cook and Ailsa and into the bailey, barely letting the keep’s heavy door open wide enough for her to squeeze through.
Outside, Ailsa spotted her mother’s quarry. Her da stood talking to Boden and Raghnall near a set of stairs to the wall walk.
“Ye!” Lady Sinclair charged forward, nearly knocking down poor Raghnall in her haste.
“Wife, an offer has come to trade one of our hunters for Stellan Sutherland. Can ye believe the bollocks on Sutherland?”
“I’ll take care of Sutherland’s bollocks,” Boden boasted, indignation reddening his skin.
Her father laughed off his son’s bravado.
Ailsa’s mother’s temper only heated while he ignored her. “Husband!”
“Now Wife, what fashes ye?”
“Yer son, ’tis what. I warned ye about him harming the cats. Now we have rats in the grains. Ye,” she huffed, “laughed when I told ye what he was doing. And ye,” she snarled, turning on her son and stabbing a finger into his chest, “are going to find and remove every one of those rodents. Ye want to kill something? Have at them !”
Cook, when Ailsa’s father turned to her for confirmation about the grain stores, could only nod. Ailsa remained mute.
Boden put a hand over his mouth, choking back laughter. “I have a better idea. Kill the Sutherlands one at a time to convince the invaders to leave. The grain stores willna matter.”
His mother slapped him, shocking everyone around them into immobility. “Winter is coming, ye daft eejit . Even without an army at our feet, we must have that food for the clan. The next harvest is months away.”
She turned back to her husband, ignoring the glowering rage on her son’s face. “Keep him in line, and set him to catching rodents— now —or the first person tossed over the wall will be yer heir. He hasna the sense to be yer successor.”
“’Tisna a fit occupation for the Sinclair heir,” Boden objected, finally realizing his mother was serious.
“Any occupation I deem fit is what ye will do. For now, ye will do as yer mother directs,” Sinclair ordered with a glance at his wife. She stood fuming and tapping her foot, while her glare burned at her son.
“I should be on the wall,” Boden objected again.
Ailsa had to believe her father was smart enough not to fall for Boden’s whining. Her brother didn’t have the sense to know when to stop. She had never seen her mother so angry, nay, enraged.
“If I see ye on that wall before every rodent is expunged from this keep,” Lady Sinclair snarled, “I’ll make sure ye go over the side. Sutherland can deal with ye as he sees fit. He seems to ken how to raise responsible sons.”
Ailsa swallowed a gasp. Surely her father would not let that cut pass. But he did, for the moment. The look he gave her mother promised they were not done with this incident.
“Boden, get to work,” Sinclair growled. “And if ye touch another cat, I’ll toss ye over the wall myself.”
Now Ailsa wanted to cheer. It was rare for Boden to suffer consequences of any sort, and these were particularly humiliating, especially delivered at full volume in the middle of the bailey.
But she feared what he would do when her parents were not looking.
“He has a point,” Sinclair said to his wife as Boden stalked away. “Fewer captives, fewer mouths to feed if food supplies run low. He counseled tossing one over the wall with a threat pinned to him to continue with one each day. I would bet before we got to the Sutherland’s twins, any army out there would withdraw.”
“Nay, Da, ye canna.” The words slipped out before Ailsa remembered she was doing her best not to draw his attention while tempers flared.
Her mother gave her a warning glance.
“But I can stop coddling them,” her father said, his tone milder than she expected. “If food is in short supply, their rations get cut first. Cook, dinna think to disobey me in this.”
Cook nodded, but her expression said plainly that she didn’t like his order.
This was one of the fears plaguing Ailsa. She couldn’t believe the damage Boden had done. Good men might lose their lives because of his cruelty. Her mother was right. He was not fit to succeed her father. But when the time came, unless something drastic happened, he would. The thought saddened her.
In the meantime, the Sutherlands would suffer. Anders would suffer. And if her da came around to Boden’s point of view, men she’d come to know and like would die. Men who should have been sent on their way immediately when they were found instead of brought inside the keep. And for what? Ransom? Gold and cattle that Sinclair did not deserve? None of it made sense to her.
After Ailsa finished the latest count of viable plants in the kitchen garden with Maesie, she went to the orchard gate. In the orchard, six of the Sutherlands were helping several Sinclairs harvest ripe fruit from the trees.
Maighread’s latest visit to the dungeon had turned the tide for the men to get out and help with the harvest. Some of the men were getting sick from being confined below, and Ailsa worried that if reports reached Sutherland of them being ill or dying, it would either spark the battle everyone feared or prolong the siege. Maighread had ruled that fresh air and sunshine, exercise and something to look at besides each other and stone walls would help them all.
Tomorrow, Raghnall would allow another six to continue the work, and so on until everything that could be picked had been, or until they were forced to await the ripening of the remainder of the fruit, or weather prevented the work. Then they would start again until everything was harvested. Even frost and freeze damaged fruit could be pared down and baked into pies or stewed, so little or nothing would go to waste.
Anders was not among the men outside today. Nor was his twin, Stellan. She saw Tomas on the ground taking fruit from another man’s hands and placing it carefully in the baskets each pair had. They could have tossed around what they picked, bruising and damaging it. She was pleased to see them paying heed to what would feed them as well as the Sinclairs.
Her mother joined her at the gate and stood silent, watching the work progress. “They pay us respect I’m no’ sure we deserve,” she said after a few minutes. “Being so attentive with their work and our food. Others might have destroyed most of what they handled.”
“They’re good people, Mother. Hasna Anders shown ye that often enough?”
“Aye, well, ’tis no’ me he must convince.”
“I ken that. But we’re running out of time, are we nay?”
“We are. I ken it. Yer brother has yer da’s ear of late. I like it no’ at all.”
“Nor do I. These men dinna deserve what Boden proposes.”
“Do ye deserve what ye propose? To be wed into Sutherland and leave us?”
“I’ll leave eventually to be married somewhere. Anders suits me, and I him. ’Tis what we both want, and it gives Da an honorable way to end this,” she added, sweeping a hand toward the orchard and the Sutherlands at work there alongside Sinclairs. “Why would he choose war over an alliance that could benefit both?”
Ailsa’s mother straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Let’s go ask him, shall we? He’s listened to yer brother long enough.”
Ailsa wanted to applaud. She knew that look and that posture. Mother was ready to fight to win. “Let’s.”
They entered through the kitchen and made their way from there through the great hall to the laird’s solar.
“Husband, we need to talk,” her mother said as she strode into the solar. Raghnall was standing before the laird’s desk looking chastened, head down, while the laird frowned at him.
“Ye are excused,” the laird told his head guard.
Raghnall turned. “Milady Sinclair, Ailsa,” he said, acknowledging them as he passed and left them with the laird.
“What is it, Wife?”
“What was that about?” Ailsa’s mother glanced toward the door Raghnall had just exited.
“I suppose the idea of using the Sutherlands to help pick the orchard was yer idea?” He turned a frown on Ailsa.
“Aye, and ye should go see them, Da. They’re being most careful with their work. Ye would find naught to question or complain.”
“Indeed?” He didn’t look mollified.
“Yer daughter speaks the truth. I watched them myself for several long minutes. They take even more care than our Sinclair workers. Ye have misjudged those men, Husband. Ye canna listen to Boden and his warmongering. They dinna deserve what he proposes. Ye must continue to negotiate. Send a betrothal agreement between Ailsa and Anders to the Sutherland, and this siege will be over in hours.”
“And the Norse king’s offer?”
“He will find another bride for his son. Yer daughter loves Anders, and he loves her. This willna matter to Erik. Ye have the other agreements ye hammered out with him on our latest visit north. A wedding with a Norse prince doesna help us as much as ye think. An alliance with a powerful Scottish clan, one that already has many alliances of its own, will do us much more good. Let Ailsa and Anders wed and end this without bloodshed.”
Ailsa held her breath, waiting for her father to respond. He held her mother’s gaze for a moment, then shook his head. Ailsa’s heart plummeted.
“’Twillna do,” he said. “Ye women dinna understand what is at stake.”
“We understand all too well, Husband. We are the ones who bind the wounds and sit with the fevered, and wash the dead for burial. Dinna try to tell me we have nay stake in this. We do, and ye’d be wise to listen to me.”
“I can let the invaders sit until everything freezes. They’ll be eager to leave Sinclair by then.”
“Nay, Da. By then they will have built a village. And even if they dinna, letting men from every northern clan die of exposure willna help Sinclair now or in the future. Do ye ken why they came to be here on our land?”
Sinclair looked at her steadily for the first time since her mother had started this confrontation. “They never admitted their purpose in coming here. What could it be, save to spy on us? To cause trouble? They’ve certainly done that.”
Ailsa shook her head. “Ye dinna ken the story.” She explained about the mission of mercy to help a bairn at MacKay. The race, the storm, the search for Anders, all of it. “They were never here to cause trouble, Da. They truly sought our help. And look what we’ve done to them. Other than tending Anders’ injuries, we’ve done naught that would make us worthy allies to a clan willing to go to such great efforts to help another clan, a recent ally, mind ye, to save a wee bairn.”
“Anders was going to risk the Pentland Firth in a race with his twin to get to MacKay? What a daft idea.”
“Perhaps, but their intentions were good. No one save Anders has been hurt, nay lives have been lost. Dinna make Sinclair the villain by listening to Boden. Better an alliance, even a weak one, with the powerful Sutherland clan and its allies. There is nay honor in letting people—good or bad—freeze to death, and these are good people.”
“Nor is there honor in letting our people starve. Winter is coming, Husband,” her mother said, speaking up at last. “I want this over and that army gone so our men can hunt and refill the larder before the snow comes. Before long, the summer garden will be exhausted and the cold weather crops willna be in yet. The damage the rats did to our store of grain is significant. We may need to appeal to allies—if we have any—before the next harvest comes in. And the men in the dungeon are getting ill. How do ye think Sutherland will feel about that when this standoff is over? This canna go on much longer.”
He huffed out a breath, and she went in for the kill.
“Ye do recall the battle ye fought to win my hand, Husband, and what it cost. We owe our daughter the same chance at happiness, without what we went through.”
Sinclair shook his head again. “Leave me.”
“Da!” Ailsa couldn’t help her cry, even knowing it would annoy him.
“Out,” he said.
She traded a heartbroken glance with her mother, turned and left. Still in the hall, she heard her mother berate him.
“Ye are an old fool. Ye ken that, aye? Ye are willing to turn down the opportunity to make yer daughter happy and save yer clan the pain and bloodshed a clan war will bring them, and for what? Neither a siege nor a war would be happening if ye hadna demanded a ransom. All of this could have been avoided and an alliance made if ye had just sent the visitors on their way once they found their man. I’ve never been so disappointed in ye in my life.”
“Out, woman!” Her father bellowed.
Ailsa slipped away from the door and down the hallway. What was she going to do now?
She felt reassured that the hunters captured by Sutherland weren’t killed outright. Their Sutherland captors recognized they had value to Sinclair that the laird would honor.
She hoped.
Though worried, she knew all she could do for now was to be vigilant, and to continue to honor whatever was growing between her and Anders. If they could get through this, perhaps she was right to be falling in love with him.