Highland Devil (Murray Family #22)(41)

Harcourt let out a quickly muffled yelp as he suddenly went flying out  of the saddle. Gybbon was impressed. He had not seen Sigimor move, yet  the small grin on the man's face as he looked down at Harcourt was proof  enough that he had done it. Mora's brothers chuckled, but softly.  Sigimor's men laughed freely.

"Curse ye, Sigimor. I hate it when ye do that," muttered Harcourt.

"Then ye should ken when to keep your clever remarks to yourself."

"Ye must kick a lot of people out of the saddle," he murmured, "because ye do inspire the remarks."

"I did find that it had become a habit and I should be more careful when  I suddenly saw my wife on the ground once and realized I had kicked her  out of the saddle. She wasnae pleased with me. I even got down to help  her up and she punched me in the face." He sounded outraged.

"How did she reach it?" Harcourt asked in a voice that told everyone he was fighting hard not to laugh.

"Slammed her tiny fist right into my eye as I was bending over to lift her up and saying  … "

"‘Stiffen your wee backbone and grit your tiny teeth,'" the MacFingals called out, then laughed.

Sigimor shook his head. "I often wonder why I have them around so much."

"They are your kin."

"I should look more carefully into that claim of relation," Sigimor muttered, then went back to staring at the keep.

Harcourt rode ahead of Sigimor, out of kicking reach, and said, "They  may nay have the red hair, but the relationship is glaringly apparent."

Gybbon waited with a swiftly dwindling patience as Sigimor studied the  place. He was amazed by how calmly Niall and David waited, sitting  quietly on their horses as the time slipped by. He suspected they had a  much deeper faith in Sigimor than he did.

The gates were wide open and he wondered about that. Only two men stood  near them watching, and he was certain they could see Sigimor and his  small army. He wondered if the men of Wasterburn no longer cared much  for the place they protected. Glancing at Harcourt, he could see his  brother staring at those open gates nearly as hard as Sigimor was.

Sigimor finally nodded a little, then looked at Harcourt. "Ye and I and  Gybbon are going to ride right in. If we are questioned we will say we  have heard of what has happened and have come to speak for the accused."

"And ye think they will just let us in?" asked Gybbon.

"Aye. We are two neighboring lairds and ye are the brother to one of us.  Then there are her brothers, whom someone might recognize. I think  those men willnae dare to stand firm before us and will let the laird  deal with us."         

     



 

"What do we do when we get in there?" asked Harcourt.

"Just what I said, and Nanty will slip in to speak to the ones in the  bailey that are our kin or simply have no stomach for what is happening.  Slowly the rest of the men will slip in, either because none of these  fools are watching or because they just let them do so. The rest of the  men will follow directions from Nanty."

"And when we are all within the bailey?" asked Ciaran MacFingal.

"I want that scaffold the old fool ne'er takes down surrounded. Put one  of us behind each mon standing nearest to it. I want Camerons standing  behind anyone who is our kin just in case a fight breaks out. I want  someone up behind the men at the top so nary a one of them can act as  they believe the laird wants before they can be stopped. I want as  little blood spilled in this as possible."

"Why so careful?" asked Gybbon.

"I told ye we are very intertwined. That old fool is pushing his people  into standing against friend and family just to protect a son who  probably should have been strangled at birth. I want those people who  are only doing as they swore to-protect their laird-nay harmed by this  idiocy. In truth, I only want one in there to be killed. Robert. He is a  poison to what had become a very quiet, peaceful area."

"If it works, it is a verra clever plan," said Harcourt, then grinned  and shook his head when Sigimor just nodded. "I dinnae want to fight  these people either. Alliances such as we have here mean more choices  for all our people. A wider selection when a mon wants a bride and for  when they need work they like."

"Aye. Customers for the goods one makes and the crops one grows. If we  nurture this we may soon reach the time where we dinnae much need the  rest of the world to survive verra nicely."

"Which would suit ye fine," said Gybbon. "Ye have ne'er had much use for the rest of the world."

Sigimor shrugged. "It hasnae done much for me and mine. Nanty?" The  young man rode up to Sigimor and then the two had an intense but very  quiet talk.

Gybbon watched Nanty ride to the gates and then dismount. It looked as  if he was having a pleasant conversation with the two men there. Then  they shook hands and Nanty slipped inside the gates. Gybbon knew that if  he walked into the bailey right now he could search for a very long  time and never see the man. It was the younger man's gift and Sigimor  made good use of it.

Sigimor made good use of every connection he had, blood or marriage or  even just friendship, because they had fought on the same side at one  time. And that, he realized, was Sigimor's real strength. He never let  the connection fade away, kept it strong and friendly. Gybbon was not  even certain of how many connections or alliances the man could claim.

He was diverted from his meager attempt to try and figure out the many  connections Sigimor had when he saw several of the men dismount and walk  to the keep. "What has happened?"

"Naught. We just saw Nanty signal for the men to start going in. My  cousins now watch the gates." Sigimor turned and ordered the two  youngest to gather up and watch the horses.

"Are ye certain the others willnae notice them? Make some outcry?"

"Nay, but I do doubt it. Word has spread of a hanging and a lot of folk  round here would walk to the keep just to watch. So, seeing a stranger  willnae make them panic. They will be expecting some to come in. Ne'er  have understood people thinking a hanging is something ye want to watch,  but some do. If word got out that it could be a woman being hanged that  would bring even more."

"Sick bastards," muttered Ciaran, and Gybbon wondered when the boy had ridden up close to him.

"Sad to say there are a lot of them in this world," Sigimor said, then  watched as Ciaran dismounted, sheathed his sword at his back, and donned  a long, flowing cloak. "Ye be careful in there. I dinnae want to have  to explain why ye are bleeding to your parents."

"Aye, neither do I," Ciaran said, and ambled toward the gates.

"Who are his parents?" asked Gybbon.

"Ewan MacFingal and Fiona MacEnroy, who is also affectionately kenned as  Fiona of the eleven knives. She is very good with knives."

"Ah, nay. It would be difficult to explain their son's wounding to them and still be breathing afterward."

"Aye, and ye probably wouldnae be able to find your horse to run away."

Gybbon laughed and returned to watching the men they had brought with  them make their way into the keep. Finally, it was time for them to ride  up. The others had gotten in so easily he was rather surprised when  they were halted.         

     



 

"I thought ye said they were your cousins," he muttered to Sigimor.

"They are, but I can see two of the brothers standing back by the door  so they have to play the good guards now." He frowned down at his  cousins. "Has it begun?"

"She is just being brought in for judgment, but everyone kens what it will be."

"All to protect a son who isnae worth the spit in my mouth."

"Aye, I fear so, though I ken ye have the final part of this nonsense covered."

"As weel as I can. Ah, the brothers have gone back in."

"Then go ahead. Just try to nay kill the old fool. We all have the  feeling that once that boil named Robert is properly lanced the old mon  will go back to what he was. If ye kill the old mon it will just be  worse, nay better."

"Because Robert would be your laird then."

"Aye, and doesnae that just terrify the whole lot of us. Good luck!"

"Scares me," murmured Harcourt as they rode through the gates. "Be the end of our peaceful time."

"Doubt the last shovel of dirt will be put in the old mon's grave before  Robert stirs up at least one of the clans round here. He has been  trying for a while already by stealing things."

Two young men came to take their horses, and Sigimor, Mora's brothers,  Gybbon, then Harcourt dismounted. Another man opened the doors for them  and they walked in. Gybbon started to the door to the great hall. Then  he glanced down the hall and stopped, Sigimor walking into the back of  him.

"Mora?" He started to step forward, headed toward Mora, when Sigimor grabbed him by the arm and held him still.