Page 84 of The Splendor of Fire
“The fact she hasn’t opened the door is telling you something.No. Besides, what will Niall do? He doesn’t tolerate insolence, ask Father Allen. I’m warning you. Stay away from her.”
Gordon’s narrow face lit with annoyance as if Léo was a midge flying around his face. “I don’t need her to be interested.”
At this Léo jerked, and Thorny began to buck. He settled the beast and pinned Gordon with a look of rage.
Gordon began to pick up on Léo’s warning look. “How very funny that you, a man I saved from prison, is telling me to know my place. I have half a mind to inform Niall that you come and go as you please since he’s been away. Of course, should you be willing to interpret another dream I’ve had—I might have a lapse in memory.”
A laughable thought. Gordon was a miserable guard, and had no clue what had truly gone on in Cràdh, nor that he and Moira trained in nighttime hours. It was only in the interest of preserving the man’s belief that he held something over Léo that he played into his threat.
Unable to disguise the edge in his voice, he pushed him. “What would you have me interpret? Go on.”
Gordon’s face twisted into something spiteful and he shifted in his saddle. “I’m within the laird’s house, but I work in the kitchen. I’m preparing his food, and taking care of all his meals, and placing the food for him in baskets. In the first basket is food for the servants: the choicest meat, the freshest fruit, the best bread. In the second basket is food for the family—and they have the same: meat, fruit, and bread. But their food is covered with flies. In the third basket is food forthe laird: pastries and tarts, baked goods. I stack the baskets and put them all on my head. Suddenly, the back door opens and an eagle swoops down, shooting fire from its mouth and singeing the basket of the laird. More birds rush in and together the birds eat what is meant for the laird.”
A chill of foreboding crept along his neck. This wasn’t just another dream about finding yourself in the market with no clothes on, or teeth falling out of your head. This was something else.
Gordon studied his face. “It means something?”
“Oui.”
Excitement came over Gordon. “After your last interpretation, I thought it must. Both the laird and I dreamed of the eagle that breathes fire. There are many symbols in it.”
Understanding filled Léo’s heart and strengthened his spirit, but how would he tell Gordon? And how would Léo keep his little eagle safe when she despised him?
“The three baskets represent three weeks of your life. The food is the Lord’s provision. The servants of the house and clan are being strengthened. The family is …” He gave his words careful consideration, knowing whatever he said may make it back to Malvina and Niall. “The family is being tested, and the flies represent…turmoil.”
Turmoil in the form of spiritual sickness, a rotting of their souls.
“The food for the laird is the most refined, food that satisfies, brings pleasure.”
Yet the laird was not who ate from the basket. So far he had given Gordon an honest, but cautious, interpretation.
“I knew it.” Delight washed over Gordon and he threw a hand to his forehead in relief. Thorny skittered sideways. “I knew it meant something important.”
Léo settled the skittish horse and brought him to a stand. “Yes. Very important.”
“What do the birds mean?”
A picture of his Birdy flying through the air filled his heart with warmth. “Birds represent hopes. Birds that fly represent a pursuit of joy, harmony, and peace. A bird with fire represents a pursuit of passion.”
But the fire was the eagle’s, not Gordon’s. Her passion for the mission, singeing the basket representing the laird’s physical body. Theother birds, their team, feasting from what was meant for Niall, now given to them.
“And why are the baskets on my head?”
He paused not knowing how to make it palatable. “In three weeks, these things will come to pass.” Michaelmas. “And the birds eat from the baskets on your head because…” Gordon would die. “You are the harbinger of what will happen and your future will depend on it.”
Gordon frowned. “What does that mean? Is that good?”
“God’s plan is always good. Now, will you agree to keep your mouth shut and to leave Moira alone?”
Gordon adjusted himself in the saddle, a self-satisfied look on his face. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Chapter 25
DUN RINGILL CASTLE - SEPTEMBER 8, 1385
Elspeth MacKinnon’s chamber was overwarm and overdecorated, not unlike the woman herself. It was so full of objects, murals, textiles, and furs, there was not a sliver of empty space for the eye to rest. Which was why, on this unseasonably warm September evening, Moira pulled the table and chair beside the window and sketched the moonlit loch below, longing to connect to the truest parts of herself, not the role she played as leman.
Beneath a charcoal sky, she sketched a radiant white moon dappled with pock marks and shadow. Moonbeams reached over the rippling sea loch and trees stood still in the sultry air. Dragging her fingers over the ripples of the water, she blurred the dark, creating depth and shadow.
