Chapter 20

20

N ews spread throughout the keep and then flowed wider. Like a flood, it drenched the village, seeping into every crevice. People reacted with disbelief and awe. Many barely believed it, thinking that Laird McKovac had been too ornery to die, and would have plagued the world with his immortal bitterness. Given that he had held on to such power for so long, there were people loyal to him, people who knew they were now going to have to answer for the crimes they had committed under Laird McKovac's rule. The fact that they were following orders was not enough of an excuse. Some began to fight back, and were quickly caught by guards loyal to Hamish, who had spent a great deal of time picking guards who possessed integrity. The ones who remained devoted to the former Laird were hauled away in chains, bemoaning their guilt. News of this reached the village as well, and there was a notable group of people who fled the land, running into the forest and disappearing from sight. Their crimes would go unpunished this day, but at least the village would not be darkened by their presence.

Elvira's face was adorned with a smile. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and it was as though the sun shone on her for the first time in a long time. The caress of Rory's lips echoed on her own. The sensations tingled, and she became aware of every bubble of sweat that rose to the surface of her flesh. The kiss had been like a dream. The excitement she felt was exhilarating, and it was as though she were lighter than air.

But all was not well with Rory. He had managed to summon enough strength to stand by her side and kiss her, but the wounds from the fight had taken a greater toll than she had imagined. It hadn't helped that he had refused to rest while being locked in the dungeon, instead hammering and prodding against every bar and every brick to test for weakness. More than that, he had wrestled with the guards in an effort to protect Elvira. Now, he swayed, almost toppling over. His eyelids twitched, and a haze came over him.

"Rory…" she gasped, concern etched upon her face.

"Nae worry about me, lass. This is a good day, a grand day. We must return and tell the others that the threat hae been dealt with," as he finished speaking, Rory's head lolled to the side and he made a frail cry. Elvira's concern deepened. Fighting against his protests, she got the attention of a guard and told him to take Rory to a healer. Rory did not have the strength to resist, and was subsequently led away.

This allowed Elvira to observe the hall. The Laird's body had been taken away. A trail of blood led out of the hall, the spots getting smaller and smaller as they led towards the door. The advisors were grouped together, looking relieved. They had been solemn when she entered, and must have been burdened with tension. Now they drank wine and spoke of better times. Even the room itself seemed lighter, as though some darkness had been dispelled.

That was true of every part of the room, except the throne. Hamish McKovac, the new Laird, now stood beside it, staring at the stain of blood left by his father. He looked to be a man alone, isolated from everything else. What a toll it must have taken, Elvira thought, to save the clan by killing his own father. Ultimately, Hamish had done the necessary thing, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. She had always been inclined to help tortured souls, so she approached him softly, light of foot. Although, even if she had stomped she doubted he would have noticed, for he was lost in thought. His face was drawn, and he looked as though he had aged a decade in a matter of moments.

"Excuse me, I dinnae mean tae interrupt, but could I hae a word with ye?" Elvira asked, tugging at Hamish's sleeve. He nodded, although there was a blank look in his eyes. Elvira walked away from the throne towards the wall, where the shadows enveloped them. She thought it was best for Hamish to put some distance between him and the celebrations that were taking place. "It must be hard for ye tae cope with what ye hae done."

"I did what I hae tae dae. I knew he was nae gaeing tae give up the Lairdship. There was nae other choice," Hamish spoke. His throat was tight, his voice strained, and his eyes glistened with tears. He tried to blink them away, but the liquid remained.

"I want tae thank ye on behalf of the Romani people, and all the others who suffered under ye Da's rule. I'm just sorry it hae tae end like this. I'm sorry that it hae tae be ye who struck the final blow."

"It could hae been naebody else. I was the only one…" he sighed, the exhalation heavy, seeming to take everything out of him. "I know it's a good thing for the clan, I just dinnae like how everyone is celebrating. A man died. He may nae hae been a good man, but he was my Da nonetheless."

"I understand, although I fear that his mind was addled, especially taewards the end. He was nae the father who raised ye. He was a husk of a man."

"Aye, driven crazy by the curse he thought was placed upon him," Hamish said. For a moment, fear curled in Elvira's heart, worried that Hamish was going to blame Maria for the state of his father's mind. Thankfully, he didn't.

"Ye hae tae know… there was nae power tae the curse.My parents sometimes spoke about the Laird… about why they hae tae leave for a while, and I hae seen how terrible he was with my own eyes. The curse Ma placed on him…it would nae hae any effect. I imagine she did it tae try and make him change his ways."

"The belief gave it power," Hamish whispered. "He could nae see any other way. But that was the way he always saw the world, filled with enemies. I sometimes wonder if he ever suspected that I was plotting against him. There were other times I thought about it, but I could nae bring myself tae make the final blow. If I'm honest with ye, I was a coward. I hoped that death would come for him in the night. He seemed tae get weaker and weaker. I thought it was only a matter of time, and yet he kept clinging on."

"For some men, hatred can make them survive. I'm sorry for yer loss, but at least the clan hae a Laird who will dae anything for them. Ye did what a Laird is supposed tae dae, put the wellbeing of his people above himself. I'm sure ye will serve them well."

"I hope I can, even if I will never be able tae forget what I did taeday."

Hamish's words were weighted with sorrow. Elvira feared that he was going to define himself by this action. She wanted to do something to help him, something to repay him for what he had done. "If ye like, I could read yer palm. It might help ye gain some insight intae the future."

Hamish chuckled and shook his head. "With all respect, I hae nae put much belief in all that."

Elvira rolled her shoulders. "Ye never know, I may get a glimpse of what's tae come, and it will nae take long," she held out her hand expectantly. Hamish stared at her, then presented his hand. Elvira had spoken to many troubled people before and knew exactly what they needed to hear. Holding their hand created a simple bond between them, a caring connection that helped them feel safe and gave extra comforting weight to Elvira's words. She traced the lines, pretending that she was accessing some mystical secret of the world.

"I see here that ye will live a long life. There is a part here where the lines intercross, and I believe that this is taeday. A great sacrifice hae been made. But it will not define ye. Ye see how it tapers and fades here, that means it dinnae hae tae define yer life. Instead, look at this line, the line of nobility. It's long and unbroken, which means there are still good deeds for ye tae accomplish. Ye are a good man, Hamish, and ye should never forget that."

"If I start to forget that, then I suppose I can just look at my palm for a reminder," he smirked.

"Better yet," Elvira replied softly, looking directly into his eyes, "look around at the clan ye command. Look at all the people who prosper under yer rule, and ye will see that they are a reflection of yer own heart."

"Thank ye, lass," Hamish said, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "I know that this clan hae nae been safe for yer people for a long time, but that will change. I will rebuild the farms my father scorched, and I will ensure shelter for the Romani people. If ye would like tae stay, then there is a place for ye here. Will ye and yer family return?"

Elvira wore a coy smile. "I appreciate the invitation, M' Laird, but I think that my future lies elsewhere. I shall spread the word among my people, however. The Romani will be grateful for yer promise," she bowed her head with respect, and then her thoughts turned to the path that lay ahead of her, as well as the man with whom she was going to walk.

Rory was feeling better after having been seen by the healer. She had given him some damnable concoction that had knocked him out for hours. He awoke feeling refreshed, but was shocked when someone told him how much time had passed. He pushed himself off the cot and rushed out, ignoring the advice shouted at him to take things slow. While he was glad that Laird McKovac had been killed, he still wasn't entirely sure about Hamish. He worried that something had happened to Elvira without him being there to protect her.

However, as soon as he left the infirmary, he realized that the entire keep was bouncing with triumph. Everyone had suffered under Laird McKovac, suppressed by the heavy boot of his bitterness. Now freed of his dark moods, they were able to laugh and smile again. They skipped through the halls of the keep instead of skulking about, and music played, a joyful, light-hearted tune that filled the keep. Before, there had just been a mournful dirge that had bestowed a melancholy feeling upon the residents.

Rory breathed a little easier. He overheard talk of a feast in the main hall, and assumed that Elvira would be there. He saw people leaving holding great mugs of ale and huge chicken bones. Other people were carrying barrels of food and wine outside, so the entire clan could partake in the celebrations. Rory passed them all with a stunned look on his face, thinking about how foolish Glennrock would appear after having cloistered himself away, embracing a siege mentality before one had even begun. He wore a smug look as he imagined Glennrock sputtering, trying to explain why he was willing to sacrifice the village when faced with the threat from Laird McKovac. He hoped that the Laird would move past his grief soon and return to leading the clan, for Glennrock could not be trusted.

However, Rory did not spend too long thinking about these matters, as there was something far more important that occupied his mind. He entered the great hall and was greeted by an undulating, animated crowd. They embraced each other and sang songs, they danced and they laughed. Rory had to check his pace once or twice as he almost collided with people who were too busy dancing to pay attention to others around them. Rory avoided the food, searching for Elvira. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of girls who looked like her, but each time he was disappointed. Had she left and gone to spread word to the other Romani that it was safe for them to live in the clan? His heart ached as his search became more desperate, but then he saw her.

Their eyes met across the room, and they were drawn together by an invisible force. Everything else melted away, even the people spinning around them in a dance. They met in the middle of the dance floor, but the rhythm of the music did not capture them. They could only hear the beating of their hearts.

"Ye are looking well. I came tae check in on ye earlier, but ye were sleeping," Elvira said.

"Aye, they knocked me out. I thought I would never find ye here."

"Aye, it's gotten a lot busier than it was before. Still, it's nice tae see people happy again."

"Indeed, they're gaeing tae enjoy a new beginning."

"We all are. I hope that Hamish is the complete opposite of his Da."

"I'm sure he will be."

Although they exchanged words, they were only half-listening to what each other were saying. They smiled constantly as well. Rory's jaw was beginning to ache. Then, a rude dancing couple came rushing past and danced in between them. Rory and Elvira were forced to take a step back each. They may as well have been stranded on either side of a chasm.

As soon as the dancers passed, which happened in a flash of a moment, Rory and Elvira stepped towards each other again. Rory asked if they could go somewhere private, and they agreed to head towards the garden. Elvira's hand slipped into his, and they hastily left the hall, leaving the fun and frivolity behind to an open courtyard garden. The air was filled with a floral scent and stars blanketed the night sky. The moon was a crescent, as though it was winking at them.

They stopped in a small area, surrounded by a leafy bush. It helped give the impression that they were alone. Even though they stopped walking, they didn't let go of each other's hand.

Rory was overwhelmed by Elvira's beauty. His heart thudded in his chest. A haze appeared in his mind, almost as powerful as the healer's concoction. He reached up with his free hand and stroked her cheek, grazing his thumb along her jaw. It rested near her lips, and then he retracted it, instead leaning forward to kiss her again. He closed his eyes as he did so, losing himself in the dream that was her kiss.

"Talking about the new beginning for this place… it gets me thinking about ye. After all, with the new Laird things are safer now. Ye can come home again," Rory's voice hitched as he spoke these words. "I saw how ye were received in the tavern. People here care about ye."

Elvira tilted her head to the side. She wore an enigmatic smile. She lifted her palm, twisting it away from his hand. She showed it to him, offering it. "Perhaps ye could read my palm and tell me where my future lies," she teased.

Rory licked his lips quickly. She could be maddening sometimes. Was she going to make him come out and declare his feelings for her? He huffed as he placed his hand under hers, then looked at the slender fingers, the smooth palm. The lines across it were elegant and shallow. He had no idea what any of them meant, or how he could derive purpose from them. He only knew what he wanted them to say, and he hoped this would be enough.

"Elvira… I think ye are gaeing tae be very happy, surrounded by people who love ye. Ye hae a lot tae contribute tae the world. Tereza and Ollie are gaeing tae be grateful for all ye hae done for them, and ye should gae down in history for the part ye played in bringing peace tae this place. But I… I think that yer time here is at an end. I think yer future lies elsewhere," he grew uncertain as he revealed his feelings.

"Oh, and where daes my future lie?" Elvira asked. Her words were a whisper that drifted past his ear. Rory took his gaze off her palm, looking into her eyes instead. A smile flickered on his face. He was standing tall, yet he felt as though he was on his knees, begging for her to come back with him. Being with her was what he wanted more than anything, perhaps even more than he had wanted to be a blacksmith. He took a deep breath and then stated his desire.

"With me. As my wife. I-"

He was ready to launch into a long speech extolling her virtues and explaining the depth of his feelings for her. He thought he might need to persuade her to stay with him. Instead, she placed her finger upon his lips, silencing him.

"Ye dinnae need tae say any more than that, Rory. I accept," her eyebrows tilted and something shifted in her eyes. A smile broadened on Rory's face. He swept her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around. A light laugh soared through the air, and then it was silent as he pressed his lips against hers, stealing a kiss under the moonlight. His hands ran through her hair and she melted into him as they claimed their future.