Page 99 of The Scottish Bride
Liam listened, bemused, wondering if old Sir Thomas was a little lost in the head himself, eighty if he was a day. “That is a fascinating tale.”
“No tale. I saw him go. Come in!” Thomas waved them through the open gate. The keep was a modest stone block enclosed by a fieldstone wall.
He led them up the steps of the keep, where they met his wife. Dame Learmont was short, plump, dimpled, and merry. She bustled about, offering a hot drink of mint, berries, and honey, and served cheese and oatcakes.
Rather than sit with them at the table in the quiet, simply furnished hall, the dame retreated to a corner to sit at a loom and take up her work, colors and shuttle flying to and fro as she wove a handsome cloth of three or four colors. Liam could tell she was listening, a smile on her face, with fond looks for her aging husband.
“Heaven guided you here, I think,” Sir Thomas said. “My father left me his house and lands here at Ercildoune, where he was born. My wife and I have no children to inherit this place. Our daughter died in childbed with her child, and our son, another Thomas, was lost in what I call Edward’s war.”
“I am so sorry to hear that,” Tamsin said.
“Sad, aye. I thought to leave all this to the Keith children as my grandnieces and grandnephew, and I wanted to reach out to you. But Edward’s war makes it difficult to do ordinary and important things.”
“It does. Oh, Sir Thomas,” Tamsin said, “my brother would appreciate this inheritance.”
“It is not just for your brother. It is for you and your sisters too. My father would want these lands divided between you. He loved you and often said the four of you are special. He said hegave each of you something of his. Are you the scholar, my dear, or the healer? Or perhaps the bold wee sister?”
“The scholar, I suppose. He gave me his writings. I mean to honor those.”
“I am glad.”
“So you knew about the Kincraig children all along?” Liam asked.
“I did. But I had no good means nor the health to travel to Kincraig. Sir William, so you are a harper?”
“Aye, and a knight loyal to Bruce, who valued your father’s counsel years ago.”
“So I understand. Do you know what Thomas said of the harper?”
Liam frowned. “Do you mean the mention of a harper in a verse about Dalrinnie?” They had only discovered it—and here it was, come round again in this meeting. If he never marveled at miracles and magic before, he might have to begin, he thought.
“The very one. I heard the Dalrinnie verse long ago. Did we not, my dear?” He turned to his wife, working at her loom, shuttling and shifting in a rhythm.
“We did,” she said. “The lady of gold and her harper to hold. Something like that.”
“Aye! And you, lass, you have the truthy tongue?” Thomas asked. “I thought so. And a harper-knight for a husband. Good! Come with me,” he said then. He rose and took up his cane, and the tall, leggy gray dog stood with him. “Follow me.”
Liam and Tamsin crossed the hall behind old Thomas. The dog trotted along beside its old master. “That is a handsome hound.”
“You ought to know. He is a Dalrinnie hound, descended from one called Colla when I was a boy.”
“Colla! My grandfather and father had more than one of that name. I am pleased to hear it.”
“We have had several of these hounds over the years and bred them ourselves. He is the last of those. When I go, he will go. And my wife—” He stopped.
“You and your wife,” Tamsin said, “are always welcome with us. We are family.”
“Thank you. Come. I want to show you something.” Thomas grabbed a torch from the wall in a shadowy hallway and brought it outside, crossing the bailey in daylight, then inside an arched doorway down a corridor that went past a kitchen on one side and storage rooms on the other.
He led them down a few steps, where the torch became necessary. Liam held the door for the old man, the dog, and Tamsin as they entered the cellars. Barrels and shelves held food stores, grain sacks, farming implements, wooden boxes, even a pile of old muddy boots.
Opening a creaking wooden door, Thomas ushered them into a vaulted stone room. Liam ducked to pass under the lintel. Thomas, hunched with age, held the torch aloft.
“Thomas’s things are here,” he said.
Liam saw that the room held wooden boxes, a large chest, some chairs, a dismantled bed. Taking in the disarray, he wondered what this Thomas wanted amid the jumble.
“Here.” The old man pulled a cloth off a large bulky shape to reveal a wooden chest. Opening its lid, he rummaged about and drew out a leather satchel. He held it out.
