fire. His dinner companions followed quickly behind him, claiming seats where no one would obstruct his view of their charms. He warmed his hands, smiled at the two lasses, then took up his drum again. Quietly he played and sang a few easy songs he had known since he was a wee lad. The noise of the people still eating covered up his mistakes and lent him a feeling of fading into the background that made him relax a bit.
Slowly more people filtered back to sit about him, listening while they talked quietly with their neighbors. He winked at Netta and the other lass, then glanced about the circle at the other friendly faces there. As he relaxed more, he found it easier to weave the melody through the beat of the drum without tripping one over the other. As he ended the song, he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, watching over the rim as his host moved through the crowd toward him.
He did not wish to speak with the man again, though ’twas impossible to avoid, he supposed.
Tayg lowered his mug, resettled his drum on his thigh, and prepared to start another song. But he did not get the chance.
“Come with me,” Duff said, grabbing his elbow and nearly tumbling the drum to the floor.
Tayg shook off the man’s grip and slowly leaned the instrument against the stool once more. He turned to his audience and bowed low as he had seen many a bard do. “I shall return to amuse you shortly,” he said with a pointed look at the chief.
The man snorted and led the way out of the crowd to a deserted table in a darkened corner of the hall.
“Take this to Assynt,” he said, shoving a folded piece of parchment at him.
Tayg took it, turning it over to peer at the other side, but there was no seal to indicate the author of the document, only a thick, unmarked blob of gray wax.
“Do you wish to tell me what it says so that I may repeat it at Assynt?”
“Nay. ’Tis private—a note to my betrothed. See that her brother Broc receives it. He will see ’tis read to her.”
Tayg raised an eyebrow.
“See it done,” Duff said. “If you leave here by first light and ride hard, you can reach Assynt by sundown.”
“I thought I might bide here a day or two.” He watched the chief’s face and realized this was a man who brooked no argument from anyone. You did what he demanded or you paid the consequences. He had served with men like this and had little use for his type.
“You leave in the morn.”
“But I have discovered…reasons…to stay longer,” Tayg said, adding a cocky grin. Truly were it not for his bonny dinner partners, he would not care to stay beyond a single night, but he could not keep from goading Duff. He did not care to be ordered about by this man.
“You will leave in the morn. You will not be welcome here beyond the morning meal.”
Tayg looked again at the parchment in his hand. From what the lasses had said, he did not think this was a love note. His mind worked quickly. This man did not know he could read. He was entrusting a missive to him to deliver to the brother of his intended. If Tayg found the wax seal loosened and just happened to read the contents…
“As you will,” he said, tucking the note in the small leather sack hanging from his belt. He walked away quickly, not wishing to give the MacDonell time to dismiss him.
What was so important about this other clan and their shrew? Were they all gathering against King Robert? As soon as he was clear of this wretched clan’s lands he would read the note, and then he just might have to deliver it. After all, what better way to find out what the two clans were up to, and if they threatened the king and Scotland, than for a bard to sit among the folk and trade a tale or two?
CHAPTER THREE
C ATRIONA LED THE blue-black horse that belonged to her middle brother, Gowan, through the bailey. She would have taken her mare, but the horse was pregnant and could not travel as far or as fast as Catriona needed to this day. She had brought
Slowly more people filtered back to sit about him, listening while they talked quietly with their neighbors. He winked at Netta and the other lass, then glanced about the circle at the other friendly faces there. As he relaxed more, he found it easier to weave the melody through the beat of the drum without tripping one over the other. As he ended the song, he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, watching over the rim as his host moved through the crowd toward him.
He did not wish to speak with the man again, though ’twas impossible to avoid, he supposed.
Tayg lowered his mug, resettled his drum on his thigh, and prepared to start another song. But he did not get the chance.
“Come with me,” Duff said, grabbing his elbow and nearly tumbling the drum to the floor.
Tayg shook off the man’s grip and slowly leaned the instrument against the stool once more. He turned to his audience and bowed low as he had seen many a bard do. “I shall return to amuse you shortly,” he said with a pointed look at the chief.
The man snorted and led the way out of the crowd to a deserted table in a darkened corner of the hall.
“Take this to Assynt,” he said, shoving a folded piece of parchment at him.
Tayg took it, turning it over to peer at the other side, but there was no seal to indicate the author of the document, only a thick, unmarked blob of gray wax.
“Do you wish to tell me what it says so that I may repeat it at Assynt?”
“Nay. ’Tis private—a note to my betrothed. See that her brother Broc receives it. He will see ’tis read to her.”
Tayg raised an eyebrow.
“See it done,” Duff said. “If you leave here by first light and ride hard, you can reach Assynt by sundown.”
“I thought I might bide here a day or two.” He watched the chief’s face and realized this was a man who brooked no argument from anyone. You did what he demanded or you paid the consequences. He had served with men like this and had little use for his type.
“You leave in the morn.”
“But I have discovered…reasons…to stay longer,” Tayg said, adding a cocky grin. Truly were it not for his bonny dinner partners, he would not care to stay beyond a single night, but he could not keep from goading Duff. He did not care to be ordered about by this man.
“You will leave in the morn. You will not be welcome here beyond the morning meal.”
Tayg looked again at the parchment in his hand. From what the lasses had said, he did not think this was a love note. His mind worked quickly. This man did not know he could read. He was entrusting a missive to him to deliver to the brother of his intended. If Tayg found the wax seal loosened and just happened to read the contents…
“As you will,” he said, tucking the note in the small leather sack hanging from his belt. He walked away quickly, not wishing to give the MacDonell time to dismiss him.
What was so important about this other clan and their shrew? Were they all gathering against King Robert? As soon as he was clear of this wretched clan’s lands he would read the note, and then he just might have to deliver it. After all, what better way to find out what the two clans were up to, and if they threatened the king and Scotland, than for a bard to sit among the folk and trade a tale or two?
CHAPTER THREE
C ATRIONA LED THE blue-black horse that belonged to her middle brother, Gowan, through the bailey. She would have taken her mare, but the horse was pregnant and could not travel as far or as fast as Catriona needed to this day. She had brought
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