Page 39 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Jaimie was a distant cousin of Tòrr’s, a stalwart lad he trusted to bring him the plain truth without embellishing it.
“All up, we found at least twenty of the company of gallowglasses. Some were newly arrived and others had been here even before ye arrived wi’ the lass.”
This was startling news to Tòrr, who had figured the presence of the mercenaries would number four or five at most. It was clear from this information that MacDougall was planning something dire.
“I only spoke tae some of the men. The other lads can tell ye what they learned from speaking with the others.”
“And what did ye learn, apart from the number of men assembling? What are they intending?”
“All I could glean from the lads I spoke with was that they’d been placed near Dùn Ara, should they be needed.” He glanced at Tòrr and Edmund, who was scribbling furiously on his parchment. “I questioned what they believed they were needed fer. They were vague, speaking of a possible skirmish. I asked who they fancied they’d be skirmishing wi’ but they said naught further.”
Tòrr huffed and folded his arms. It seemed obvious to him that such a large company of MacDougall’s paid men could have only one purpose in assembling so close to the castle. They intended an attack.
Each of the other men had similar stories to tell. MacDougall’s men were being placed in position ready to be called on to fight.
It was only when he came to the youngest, a lad by the name of Matheus, who was hardly more than a wean, that MacDougall’s motives were more fully revealed.
“I learned they were tae stay alert fer the presence of a lass.”
Tòrr nodded, his heart sinking as he waited to hear what was next.
“The lass’s name is Lady Lyra MacInnes.”
Both Edmund and Tòrr could not contain a gasp at this revelation.
“They said she is the daughter of the old laird, Alasdair MacInnes, murdered years afore. She is the last of the laird’s family.”
“And they wish tae murder her, as they did her faither?” His blood boiled at the evil of it.
“Nay, ‘tis nae murder Laird Alexander has in mind. He wishes tae wed the lass and rule the MacInnes lands as their laird. Once he is married tae the heiress, naught can prevent him from ruling.”
Tòrr’s head was spinning. The MacInnes seat, Kinlochaline Castle, was the center of the clan lands in Morvern. By marrying Lyra, a vast swathe of country would be under the control of MacDougall and there’d be nobody to stand in his way.
He knew with a quiet certainty that he’d never hand Lyra into MacDougall’s clutches.
Edmund laid down his quill. “In all this talk, did ye learn aught of MacDougall’s whereabouts. Is he with the men?
Each of the assembly shook their head. It was Jaimie who spoke again. “From what I gleaned, the laird remains in Duart Castle, awaiting news of the lady’s capture. Seems likely they’ll take her tae him.”
Tòrr took this news with apparent calm, yet inside he seethed with an awful rage. He took out his leather pouch and paid the men their gold coins for their effort.
He held in his fury until the last of the men had filed out and the door closed behind them. His hands were curled into tight fists as he turned to Edmund.
“That swine MacDougall…” Tòrr took a deep breath, working hard to bring himself under control.
Edmund was already pouring two fingers of whisky into two glasses. He handed one to Tòrr.
“Slàinte mhath.”
“Slàinte mhath.”
They clinked their glasses and retired to the fireside. Tòrr remained on his feet, his gut roiling with a combination of fear for Lyra and rage at MacDougall’s arrogant audacity.
Edmund took a sip of the whisky. “So, it’s plain enough. MacDougall intends tae fight if ye dinnae hand over the lady.”
Tòrr gritted his teeth, his blood boiling and his breath high in his chest.
“We’ve nae heard from him yet. Nay doubt the messengers are heading tae Duart Castle even as we speak. Once he is informed, he’ll make his demand of us.”
