Page 57 of Highlanders for the Holidays
In fact, Aidan had weathered that situation rather nobly, for his sister had been ripped from the bosom of her family by none other than David of Scotia, with the sole premise of bartering her politically to England—much the same as was done to his own son. But unlike Malcom, Catrìona had escaped her captors, and promptly found herself a Brodie husband.
Aidan arched a dark brow, the twinkle in his eyes unmistakable. “Aye, well, it took me all this long to get over the foul temper it left me in.” He removed his riding gloves, tucking them into his waist, and said, “South was never my favorite way to ride.”
Iain couldn’t resist a bit of ribbing. “What the bloody hell lies north o’ ye?”
Aidan’s smile tightened. “Only Moray, though ’tis precisely the way I like it.”
Iain laughed, clapping Aidan fully on the back. “Welcome, friend,” he said. “Welcome. No matter how many years go by, I am no less pleased to see you.”
Both men sobered over that, for far too many years had passed, and both were now sporting a bit more silver in their manes—Iain a bit more than most.
“I would have brought you more,” Aidan said by way of apology, speaking of his men and the supplies they’d brought, “but the rest were needed in the vale.”
Dark times lay ahead, though it needn’t be said. In fact, the less it were spoken, the more one could hope to be spared.
There were whispers of war in the air. By all accounts David of Scotia was taking stock of his armies and his allies. Henry of England was in Normandy, fighting to secure his holdings, and ’twas said his daughter’s rebellions were taking a toll on his health.
“We are eternally grateful for all ye ha’e provided,” Iain said. “Tis a generous offering, no less.”
“And how is your wife?”
“Page is verra well. And Lìli?”
Aidan smiled. “We’ve a brand new bairn. ’Tis why she did not come.”
The keep was bustling with folk dashing about. The men were assembling tables in the hall and the women scrambled to find victuals enough to feed so many hungry mouths. Knowing Page as well as he did, Iain did not add feeding the masses to his list of concerns. His wife could make a fine soup from a pile of stones.
At the rear end of the hall, they climbed the stairs, with Iain leading the way. The sound of their footfalls echoed behind them.
“I hear tell Henry has called his liegemen to France.”
Aidan let the announcement hang in the air, leaving Iain to mull over all the possible reasons why—as though he did not already have enough to worry over. And yet, he realized Aidan would not have mentioned it unless the news somehow affected them.
“Do you know why?” Iain asked, peering curiously back at Aidan.
Aidan shook his head, though he arched a brow. “Jaime Steorling has gone to Edinburgh to meet with King David. He took my brother and Cameron with him. I believe he means to offer them a position with his newly formed guard.”He, meaning King David, Iain surmised. “As for Henry, your guess is as good as mine.”
Displeased with the news, Iain clenched his jaw. “I suppose this means we’ll not have the pleasure of my nephew’s company any day soon.”
Cameron had left them years ago to serve Broc Ceannfhionn, returning only once in ten years time. In his absence, his sister Constance had grown into a woman—somewhat of a wildling at that. At fourteen, Iain dreaded the day she would come to him with a bairn in her belly and no husband to provide for her. Thank God, thus far, she’d kept her knees shut.
“Only time will tell,” Aidan allowed. “But something is amiss. Henry’s barons were also summoned unexpectedly and David’s council may or may not be connected to that. I hear tell he’s had a time with the Kingdom of Moray as well.
Five years ago, David had brought down the Mormaerdom, giving much of the Kingdom of Moray to Henry’s new men, and stripping the sons of Óengus of their birthrights.
Some claimed that now, with Henry pre-occupied in France, the sons of Óengus were scheming to restore the Mormaerdom.
Aidan said, “If there is something more at stake—if Henry has changed his alliances with the Flemish counts, then I cannot speculate what it means for Moray or for Scotia.”
“So then, perhaps David means to send this new guard to fortify de Moray?” De Moray, meaning Henry’s Flemish counts, who could not directly claim the Moray bloodline, and so they’d styled themselvesdeMoray instead—ofMoray, but not Moray.
“That would be my guess.”
In much the same way Aidan dún Scoti represented the last of the blood of the Pechts, the sons of Óengus were the last of the Mormaerdom. Their tribes were a threat to David—no matter what David of Scotia claimed, and Iain knew Aidan could not be pleased that his brother would embroil himself in such a mess. Despite that David might have something to gain by an alliance with Aidan’s tribe, it was bound to be bad news for Keane. It was tantamount to sending a wolf into a lion’s den, quite literally, for the sons of Óengus would only see him as a contender as well as an enemy from David’s camp, and the de Moray counts would no doubt view him as a wild card, despite the fact that Aidan’s dún Scoti tribe had never claimed any kingship.
Add to this the skirmishes in Normandy, where Henry’s daughter had openly supported the rebels, and there was little good to come of it all.
“What of your brother?” Iain asked.
