The Eagle by Hildie McQueen
Chapter One
Stuart Ross sat atop his horse on a ridge above the shore, along with twenty other archers, bows at the ready. Below them, atop their own huge warhorses was his brother, Laird Darach Ross, flanked by his other brothers, Duncan, and Gideon. They were in turn surrounded and well protected by skilled warriors.
Everyone was tense and ready for whatever would happen next, as just offshore a line of bìrlinns had arrived. Their banners high on the masts declaring them to be Clan Maclean.
It was not a totally unexpected visit, but it was an unwelcome one. The Maclean had not bothered to send a messenger ahead to announce the upcoming visit. Instead, the man had shown up without warning and only that morning had sent someone to proclaim his arrival. His ploy showed not only a lack of tact, but also why he was not well-liked by other lairds.
Ross and Maclean clans were not on good terms, but neither were they enemies. The animosity between them had endured from when they’d warred decades earlier.
This current visit probably had to do with Clan Ross taking in a group of men seeking asylum in early winter. Their leader, a man by the name of Lennox, claimed he and the other men had left Clan Maclean fearing execution.
Apparently, their defection was not taken lightly; because instead of sending an emissary, Laird Maclean traveled to see about the issue personally.
Even from a distance, it was easy for Stuart to tell who The Maclean was as he rode toward Darach. An older man with gray hair shinning in the sunlight was one of the few who’d brought a horse. He was slight and looked almost childlike compared to Darach, who was younger, taller, and well built.
At times like these, Stuart was not fond of his role as archer because it meant remaining in the background. An archer’s position was behind the warrior lines, which meant being far from the conversations and many times also a distance from the actual battlefield.
Not that he expected there to be any sort of fight. The Maclean had only brought a small contingent of men with him ashore. And only those warriors flanking him were on horseback.
“This is aninteresting turn of events,” his brother Ewan, also an archer, said. “The asylum seekers have not caused any trouble since arriving. Why does the laird himself come to retrieve them?”
Stuart shrugged. “Obviously, there had to be a strong reason for the men to leave. Lennox has been reluctant to give any explanation, other than the laird believed them to be disloyal.”
The Maclean’s arrival meant that Lennox would have no choice. He would have to give Darach a good reason to allow him and his men to remain.
As a signal, Darach lifted his right hand and flicked his cupped hand toward the keep. It meant that he’d invited Laird Maclean to visit. As the two lairds led the way, the warriors and then he and the archers followed.
“I really am not in the mood to hear whatever this is all about,” Ewan said. “I must go home and see about Catriona.” His brother’s wife had recently given birth to their second child—a healthy boy they’d named, Gawin—and since then, Ewan was rarely away from his family.
Stuart did not blame him. It was good to see his brother so happy and settled. With a shrug, he replied, “No reason for ye to remain. I doubt our presence is required. Go home, I will let ye know if anything of interest happens.”
It would take roughly an hour to arrive back at the keep. Stuart replaced his bow, strapping it to the side of his saddle and rolled his shoulders. He’d not slept well the night before, accosted by restlessness. Being less rested made him extra alert. He never wished to be the cause of others coming to harm.
Just then a rider neared. It was his cousin, Artair Ross, whose primary duty was as a scout. “The laird requests that ye go speak to Lennox. Tell him what has happened and ask that he come to the keep.” His cousin looked past him for a moment before continuing, “When ye and Lennox arrive at the keep enter through the side gate, so not to be seen by the Maclean warriors.”
Stuart hated missing the discussions that would occur once the laird’s arrived at the keep. “Did the Maclean state what he wants?”
Artair shook his head. “They only spoke greetings and talked about the late laird, yer father. Then the Maclean asked if he could speak to Darach in private regarding who he called ‘the traitor’.”
Stuart blew out a breath. “I best hurry if I am to retrieve Lennox and be back in time to help if needed.” He motioned to two warriors. “Come with me.”
“I think I will come as well,” Artair said.
The abandoned buildingwhere the asylum seekers were housed had been transformed during the winter. True to his word, Lennox and his men had made extensive repairs to the walls and roof restoring the house to its former state. There was even a garden on one side that a man was tilling when they rode up.
The night they’d first discovered strangers on the shore, twenty men had set up a meager camp. Once settled into the current building, nine made the choice to leave before the weather turned any colder and had traveled south to seek a home with another clan. The eleven that remained seemed content with their new living arrangements.
Upon Stuart and the warriors nearing the house, Lennox came out, his gaze wary.
“Has the Maclean arrived then?” he asked.
“Aye,” Stuart said dismounting along with Artair. “He and my brother are at the keep now.”
“Is he demanding we be turned over to him?” the man who’d been tilling asked, as he walked over and joined Lennox. Another pair of men came from the house and listened with interest as well.
When Stuart hesitated, Lennox motioned to the door. “Should we discuss this inside?”
He and Artair walked inside what had been a dilapidated structure. Stuart was impressed with all the work they had done. The interior had been transformed into a beautiful home.
Support beams had been replaced, and furniture built. A long table with benches filled half of the large room. There were a pair of chairs by the large hearth, and cots lined two opposite walls. Five on one side, six on the other.
The men gathered and Stuart motioned to the table. Understanding their worry, he had to tell them something, but there wasn’t really any information to impart.
“Laird Maclean, along with a small contingent came to shore today. He and my brother are to have a private conversation upon their arrival at the keep.”
The men murmured among themselves, several looking toward the cots, probably mentally deciding what to take. They had not come this far only to give up.
“We can leave.” The statement from Lennox was soft, but resolute.
“Nay. My brother wishes to speak to ye. He asked that ye come to the keep with me. We are to enter through a secret entrance so ye are not seen by the Maclean men.”
“How do we know ye will not take us captive and turn us over to the Maclean?” one of the men asked.
“If we wished to imprison ye, we would have done so by now,” Artair snapped. “Ye should have expected that sooner or later, Clan Maclean would come in search of ye.”
Lennox looked to the men who seemed to consider him their leader. “Laird Ross has been a kind host and I trust him. I will go and see what the Maclean wants. Remain here. I will send word.”
“I can assure ye that my brother is not inclined to turn ye away,” Stuart informed the men. “Ye have posed no threat to our clan and we hold ye in high esteem.”
The men seemed to take in what he said, but still exchanged looks as if considering whether to flee or remain. Stuart did not blame them.
As they rode toward the keep, Lennox gave Stuart a curious look. “Who came with the Maclean?”
“Just the small contingent of warriors. There are four bìrlinns. Two men remained with each one.”
Lennox frowned. “Ye were with yer brother? Ye know what was said?”
“Nay, I was on the ridge a distance away. I could not hear anything.” He did not mention that Artair had heard the conversation.
“But yet ye could see everything so clearly?”
Stuart shrugged. “I have very good eyesight.”
They rode a bit longer before Lennox spoke.
“Ye and the laird look nothing alike.” Lennox seemed eager to make conversation. It was probable he was nervous about what awaited.
“Darach is son to my father’s first wife. The rest of us are sons to his second wife, except for Caelan, who is bastard born.”
“I see,” Lennox said. “Yer brother Caelan comes often and gives us work.”
“Aye, I am aware,” Stuart said. “He has a lot of land to maintain around his house. I am glad that ye and yer men have been able to earn a living.”
The warrior was quiet for a few minutes. “Five of my men wish to work as Laird Ross’ guards. Do ye think it will be possible?”
Stuart understood the need to find work doing what one knew best. He would always prefer to be an archer over anything else. “Let us see how this visit goes and then we can speak to my brother.”
The man nodded and let out a sigh. “I do not understand why the Maclean would wish for us to return. There is nothing to be gained from men who are not loyal to the one in charge.”
“It could be a matter of pride?”
Lennox nodded. “Aye, perhaps.”
Upon arriving atthe keep and stowing Lennox in a room near the maid’s quarters, Stuart went to seek out his eldest brother.
Darach and the Maclean were in the great room. It seemed the hospitality portion of the visit continued.
When Stuart walked closer, Darach motioned to him. “This is Stuart, third-born son.”
The Maclean looked to him with disinterest, but he managed a nod and a slight lift to the corners of his lips. If Stuart was to guess between a smile and a sneer, he would guess the latter.
Upon closer inspection, he saw the man’s gray hair was actually quite thin. It was more likely his scalp Stuart had seen shining in the sunlight earlier, as it was showing between the limp strands of remaining hair that for whatever reason the man chose to wear long, hanging well past his chin. There was also a yellowing to the Maclean’s skin that told of failing health. At the same time, by the narrowed eyes and pinched brow, he fought to not show the pain he was in.
Stuart recognized the gleam in the Maclean’s eyes. He should, he’d seen it often enough in his late father’s gaze. It could be that the man was not there so much for the men who he called traitors, but to see what he could gain as recompense for what he considered an insult.
When he met Darach’s gaze, it was obvious his brother saw it as well.
The Maclean had not brought his wife, nor did any other women accompany him. Therefore, Isobel, Darach’s wife, and the other women of the keep were not present. Instead, the long tables in the great room were filled with the warriors who’d come with the laird. The men ate and drank, speaking in low tones. From their wariness, the Maclean must have warned them to be on guard, or something of the like.
To ensure the family was well protected, Darach had stationed his guardsmen—double the number the Maclean had brought—throughout the hall. Some sat at tables, separate from the other clan, with their own tankards and platters of bread and cheese to share, while other warriors were on duty guarding the entrance. Further assurance was provided by Darach’s personal attendants, who stood at his back.
Stuart reluctantly went to the high board and sat next to a man who’d accompanied the Maclean. The man looked to be close to his own age of two and thirty. Unlike the Maclean, this man had the bored look of someone who wished to be anywhere but there.
“I am Liam Maclean, second-born son,” the man said in greeting. “My father introduced me to yer other brothers before ye entered.”
The man then looked toward the entrance from which Stuart had come, seeming to calculate why he’d arrived so much later.
He blew out a breath. “How far is the local village?”
“A bit over an hour’s ride.”
A young maid appeared with a large tray. She walked to the head table, gaze downcast and placed a tankard in front of him.
Stuart realized who it was. “Cait, did ye and yer mother make a good rabbit stew?”
Cait’s gaze lifted, and her lips curved. “Aye, Mister Stuart. She asked that I thank ye for the second rabbit.”
“Is a rabbit all it takes to spend time with ye?” Liam asked while leering at Cait, who’s eyes widened and cheeks turned a crimson red.
She hastily placed the food down before them and dashed away.
“That comment was unacceptable,” Stuart spoke in a low menacing tone. “Ye will not disrespect the women while in my home.”
“’Tis but a mere maid,” Liam said with an eye roll. “No one of importance.”
“I will not repeat myself.” Stuart took a long draw from his tankard, to keep from saying or doing something he’d regret.
Across the room, Cait’s half brother, Torac, watched with interest. The warrior’s gaze moved from the high board to his sister.
Just then Darach spoke to the laird in a louder tone, so that everyone could hear. “I insist that ye and yer men remain for the night. It will soon be too late to return across the sea to yer home.”
“I accept on behalf of myself, my son, and my men,” the Maclean replied. “As a matter of fact, I beg of yer hospitality for two or three more days. I have many things to discuss with ye.”
Blank of expression, Darach nodded his agreement.
It was much later that the lairds adjourned to Darach’s study. Stuart, Liam, and Duncan were asked to join them. Gideon, the youngest, as well as Artair would remain in the great hall to ensure order between their guards and the Maclean’s, who seemed to take an instant dislike of each other.
Once in the study, the men were poured whiskey and they settled into comfortable chairs.
The Maclean inventoried the room, not bothering to hide his curiosity. “I met yer father only the one time he came to visit me. I never felt the need to cross the water to come here. I find sea travel most discomfiting.”
Despite the fact he’d not been aware their father had ever visited a man so disliked by all the surrounding lairds, Darach managed to hide his surprise.
“Not everyone is fond of water travel,” Darach said with an accommodating tone. “We venture out a great deal by bìrlinn. I do not mind it.”
“Let us get to the reason for my visit,” Laird Maclean said suddenly. A tactic to throw off whoever he spoke to, by abruptly changing the subject. “All of the traitors must be returned to me immediately to be punished. I will accept nothing less.”
Darach sipped his whiskey slowly with his gaze averted and remained silent. A trait that often discomfited whomever he opposed. It was humorous when the Maclean and Liam exchanged confused looks as the long stretch of silence continued.
Use to Darach’s processing of information, Stuart downed his drink and rose to pour another. “I do believe the weather should be favorable to traveling for the next few days,” he said to the Maclean. “However, I agree with ye. I too prefer to travel by land rather than water.”
The Maclean didn’t reply. Instead, he looked at Darach, who looked to Stuart, glass still in hand.
“What…” the Maclean began, but stopped talking when Darach gave him a pointed look.
His brother let out a breath. “No.”
Once again, the Maclean and Liam exchanged puzzled looks.
It was Liam who spoke next. “What do ye mean no? It is not a request Laird Ross. My father has rights over those men.”
“Does he?” Darach asked with a flat tone. One that Stuart knew meant his brother thoroughly disliked the men he spoke to.
Darach looked to Stuart. “What do we know about the men?”
“They came asking for asylum from ye. Stated that they had fled for their lives. We know nothing more. Winter meant they were contained to a certain place and most of them have stayed there since.”
“Most?” Liam asked, his expression incredulous.
“Half of the men have since left.”
The Maclean’s eyes rounded. “Ye allowed half of them to escape?”
“They are not our prisoners,” Stuart replied. “They may come and go as they please.”
Liam jumped to his feet. “Those men are traitors to my father; they must face the consequences of their disobedience.”
Suddenly the Maclean’s countenance changed, and he gave them an appeasing look. “Be calm son. Let us not start off by arguing.”
“What other subject do ye propose we speak of then?” Darach asked.
“I would like to get to know ye better,” the Maclean said, meeting Darach’s gaze. “As a new laird, I am sure ye have much to learn. Perhaps I can provide guidance while here. For now, I will not press the issue of the men, ye hold.”
Every word the man uttered grated. Stuart met Darach’s eyes and understood his brother was on the brink of losing control.
“Why don’t we proceed to the courtyard. I will show ye the new guard training areas,” Stuart said motioning to the door.
As he walked out with the Maclean’s, he noted that Duncan moved closer to a very furious Laird Ross.
