Page 38 of The Shadow of a Laird
Do not tell me that the cows have knocked it down, or it has suddenly been eaten by woodworm or a witch cast a spell on it in the middle of the night and made it disappear!”
The two farmers started to speak at once, then the unintelligible noise became even louder because they were trying to be heard above each other. There was much pointing and gesticulating, but just as it looked as though a fist fight was about to break out, Gavin intervened. He stepped in between the two men and wrenched them apart.
“Now,” he growled. “Tell the Laird your latest problem one at a time. I have a dagger in my pocket. If either of you even tries to cause trouble, they will be the first to feel the sharp end of it.”
The men nodded frantically, and Gavin stood back a little. The story of the dagger had been a complete fiction; he had been unarmed since he came to Ardneuk. However, his stature and strength had been enough to make the farmers believe him.
“What is your problem?” The men obeyed.
“When I came down this mornin’ the fence was a’ splintered, M’Laird,” Armstrong answered. “An’ he”—he flung out his arm and pointed at MacLean—“he was standin’ beside it wi’ a hammer in his hand!”
“I was goin’ tae fix it, ya eejit!” MacLean replied furiously.
“Because ye broke it, right?” Armstrong asked fiercely.
Gavin raised a hand and patted the pocket with the imaginary dagger in it.
“Now, I have heard about you two from Laird Jamieson, and you are two of the biggest troublemakers on his estate, and he has been trying to solve your problem for a while now. I respect your laird for being a very wise man, and he has come up with an answer to your problem.” He looked across at Laird Jamieson and said, “May I tell them, my Laird?”
“I think you should,” Jamieson answered through gritted teeth, with wide eyes at Gavin’s ease in lying. “I might clobber them.” Even though it was still quite early in the morning, he poured himself a glass of wine and swallowed it in one gulp.
“My name is Laird Gavin Forsyth, and I am a good friend of Laird Jamieson,” Gavin began. “He has had a good idea that will solve all of your problems in the future so that this problem will not arise again. There will be a monthly meeting so that anybody with a grievance can come and tell him, and you can discuss it. That will save you having to come to see him every day. Your problem with the fence was likely caused by the storm we had a couple of days ago. A lot of trees fell down and damaged buildings and fences. Go and fix your fence—together. You have made him angry enough already.”
The two farmers looked at Gavin, then at Laird Jamieson. They smiled. “Thank ye, M’Laird,” they said in unison, then Armstrong said, “We will dae as ye say, Laird Jamieson, an’ we will be at the meetin’.”
“Laird Forsyth will be supervising the first meeting,” Jamieson said. “Last Friday morning of the month. And after the winter is over, we will replace the fence with a stone wall.”
The men thanked them both again, then turned and left.
Gavin sat down again and waited to be reprimanded for speaking out of turn, but Laird Jamieson had no such intention.
“That was very well handled, Gavin,” he said, with a rare smile. “I thought I was going to have to give them the same old lecture about fighting with each other. Maybe having to repairthe fence together will help them to cooperate with each other, and your idea about a monthly meeting was excellent.” He reached out to shake Gavin’s hand, and the two men smiled at each other.
Gavin felt enormously relieved that he had acted as a real laird should; perhaps he was not as hopeless as he thought. Moreover, Laird Jamieson had seen him doing so. Things were going much better than he had expected them to, and if Alan Jamieson wanted him to be involved with the tenant meeting, then it seemed that he had been accepted—he hoped.
“You know,” Jamieson said thoughtfully, “the way you handled those men—firmly but fairly—reminded me of the way your father treated people. You may not know this, Gavin, but we were very good friends. We saw each other quite a lot for business reasons, and we got on very well. He was good with the common people, and they respected him. So did I.”
“What about the cholera outbreak?” Gavin asked. “He didn’t seem to care then.”
“That is not true,” the Laird said firmly. “He could do nothing for those who were already ill, but he showed the villagers how to clean their water, and he had wells dug upstream, which do not connect with the water in the loch, and that is where the Duncairn villagers get their water now.”
“But he locked up all the healers,” Gavin protested. “It took me a long time to forgive him for that.”
Laird Jamieson shook his head. “He kept them inside for two days to boil a lot of water, then organised that to be delivered to those who could be saved. When a person gets enough clean water, they can recover, but he was not sure if the disease was infectious, so he kept you and your mother inside for your own safety. Your father did everything he could, Gavin. He was a good man.”
Gavin felt wretched. “He would never talk to me about it,” he said sadly. “I thought he felt guilty about shutting the healers away. So many people died.”
“He felt guilty because he could not do enough,” Laird Jamieson replied. “And that is probably why he wasn’t willing to talk about it, but he tried his best.”
Gavin was intensely relieved, but he felt guilty because he had thought so badly of his father. “I am so glad to hear that,” he said, smiling. Then he became brisk. “Do you mind if I go and meet some of your guardsmen after breakfast?” he asked. “It occurred to me that I should spend more time amongst ordinary people and learn their ways. As I told you, I am ashamed to say that I have been very neglectful of my tenants. I have never bothered to get to know them or the men who might save my life one day.”
The Laird nodded. “Good thinking,” he agreed.
He stood up, and the two men walked to the biggest courtyard, where various martial skills were being practised. An archer was shooting arrows into a target, while two men were duelling with swords. A fierce wrestling match was going on between two big, burly, sweaty men, cheered on by a crowd of their fellows.
Gavin was delighted. He felt as though he had arrived in a different world, one that was full of intense masculine energy, and suddenly, he realised how much he had missed it. There was much pleasure to be had in the company of a beautiful woman, of course, but sometimes a man needed to be amongst others of his own kind.
Laird Jamieson introduced Gavin to the Captain of the Guard, a short but muscular man who eyed him up and down critically. Gavin had a feeling of foreboding. This man would not be easily impressed!
