15. A Plea of War and Peace

15

A PLEA OF WAR AND PEACE

“ W oah. Uncle Loch, ye did nae tell me that the McKenzies had this much land.”

Aila couldn’t help but agree with Arran. They had made it to the McKenzie border just before tea time, and Aila found herself wondering if this part of the Highlands always looked so beautiful. Mountains rose high, casting tall shadows on the snow-covered ground below. The sun bounced off the white earth and reflected back across the scattered houses, the village center, and into Aila’s eyes. There were no signs of death or destruction here, a stark contrast to the Kincaid land.

“Is that the castle over there?” Aila asked, pointing to the stony building in the distance.

It had to be two or even three times the size of anything else she could see. With lush forests surrounding the building, it looked like something out of a children’s storybook—ideal and inviting yet strong and impenetrable at the same time.

“Aye. It will still be another hour or so before we make it there, but we should be in time for tea.”

Arran’s eyes, darkened by lack of sleep and the toll the journey had taken on his young body, were wide. It was clear that his exhaustion and soreness had been forgotten at the sight of the McKenzie Castle.

“I have never seen a building so large! How many rooms do ye think they have? How many windows? Do ye think they have a large army? How many soldiers would they need to keep the castle safe? Maybe they will let us train with their men! Do ye think ye could ask them, Uncle Loch?”

Aila and Lachlan chuckled at the never-ending stream of questions that flowed from the boy the entire ride to the castle. He wanted to know everything from how old the castle was to what they ate for breakfast every morning. It wasn’t until they were approaching the looming metal gates that his questions slowed to a stop.

“Umm,” he said, tilting his head all the way back to see to the top of the gate. “How are we going to get in?”

“We are going to storm the gates,” Lachlan answered, his face completely serious. “Are ye ready? Did ye bring yer sword?”

Arran whipped around to look at his uncle, shocked that he would suggest such a thing. It took a split second for Lachlan’s face to break into a wide, mischievous grin.

“I am just messing with ye, laddie. They will come down to us. Dinnae fash. We are nae intruders here.”

Arran, visibly relieved, sagged in the seat, prompting Aila to lean over and whisper, “We will get him back for that one.”

That was all it took for Arran’s face to light up once more. Aila winked and then righted herself in her saddle, shifting nervously at the prospect of meeting the rulers of such a powerful clan.

“State yer business, sir.”

It was a curt greeting from the bearded guard standing behind the metal gate. With several more positioned atop the castle walls, bows loosely loaded with an arrow, Aila wondered just how accurate Lachlan’s explanation of their situation was. They may not be invaders or enemies of the McKenzie clan, but they certainly were not welcomed guests if this was any sign.

“I have urgent news for Laird McKenzie.”

The guard looked them all up and down with a grunt and a look in his eye that made Aila sure he wasn’t going to let them in. Lachlan spoke again before the man could order them away.

“Please. My wife and son and I have traveled a great distance to share this news with yer Laird. They are weary and in need of rest. I swear to ye, we mean nay harm and are here as friends.”

Convinced by Lachlan’s story, the guard gave a simple nod and motioned with his hand to open a door off to the side of the gate. One by one, the small family passed through on their horses, only to be greeted by a group of a dozen armed men on the other side of it.

“Lachlan,” Aila breathed nervously.

He reached across them and put a hand on hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. With a warm smile, he managed to appease some of her worries.

“There is nothing to worry about. I would do the verra same thing they are doing, if we had the men to spare.”

“And a gate,” Arran added.

The boy had spoken earnestly, but it was said so dryly that Lachlan laughed and Aila chuckled.

“Aye, Arran. A gate first, then the men to guard it. I will make a list.”

Surrounded by McKenzie guards, the trio were escorted through the courtyard and towards the castle door. Tall, blazing fires burned in torches and outdoor fire pits every few feet, keeping the men outside warm. The stones had been swept clear of any snow that had fallen, giving them a clear path forward. Aila was taken in by the beauty of it all, though the courtyard paled in comparison to the castle itself.

Dismounting, they were walked inside, through the curved wooden door that had to be twice the size of Lachlan in both height and width. Candles were lit everywhere, as if someone was convinced that enough light could vanish the cold of the harsh Highland winters. Every wall they passed was adorned with a beautiful woven tapestry or a display of swords that must have been a hundred years old already. There were paintings in gilded frames and hallways carved out from the stone walls with dark wooden beams.

Had they been at the Kincaid Castle, their footsteps would have echoed against the floor as they moved deeper into the heart of the fortress. There weren’t enough people and enough happenings to disguise their arrival. Here, the McKenzies seemed to be bustling with activity in all directions. Hardly anyone even stopped to acknowledge the newcomers surrounded by guards. Aila wondered if it was a normal occasion to have unannounced guests here.

When they finally made it to the Great Hall, Aila was sure her eyes were as wide as Arran’s.

“Wait here,” the man in charge said before he disappeared into the hall.

It wasn’t as if he had given them a choice, as all of his men were still stationed around the family, keeping them from so much as breathing without being seen.

“Everything will be all right. Just hold my hand and let me do the talking for now. I swear it will nae be as frightening as it seems. If the stories are to be believed, Iona McKenzie will love ye just as much as I do.”

“I will hold yer hand too, Aila,” Arran offered, putting on a brace face.

“Well then,” Aila answered with a warm smile. “How can I be nervous with my two favorite men here to keep me safe?”

Taking her place between them, she wove her fingers through Lachlan’s, holding them tight. In her other hand, Arran’s small hand tucked into hers. She didn’t know if the boy had offered more for her sake or his own, but she was happy to have him close. Squeezing his hand tight, she pulled her shoulders back and determined to ignore the nerves in her stomach.

“Follow me,” the same guard said curtly, having stepped in only seconds later.

Too nervous to take in the room, Aila kept her eyes directly in front of her, on the back of the guard’s head as he led them all inside the Great Hall. The rest of the guards faded to the background, taking up their positions around the room. She was half convinced that they had just walked into a death trap. At least, she was until she looked up and met rich, brown eyes.

The woman wasn’t smiling, but her eyes glimmered all the same, as if she could have been. Long, thick hair, the same chestnut color as her eyes, was plated and wrapped around a shoulder, sitting serenely against her pale skin.

Her place at the head of the table told Aila that she was looking at Laird Iona McKenzie. To her right sat a man with broad shoulders and hair speckled with gray. She assumed this was Finn, Iona’s Captain of the Guard and husband. He wore a very grim expression that made Aila glad he wasn’t the one they had come to meet. The man didn’t seem to know that, as he was the first to address them.

“It is nae verra often we have a man insist on speaking to our Laird. It is even less often that this stranger comes with grave news. How are we supposed to trust ye?”

These were all questions Aila would expect any good captain to ask, but they set her on edge all the same.

“My name is Lachlan Kincaid. My father was the Kincaid Laird for nearly three decades. I think perhaps ye kent him.”

Aila was shocked to hear Lachlan tell the truth. His state as a wanted man had prompted him to keep his identity hidden from nearly everyone. Lachlan knew his admission would surprise his wife, but he also knew that the risk of putting on a facade in front of the McKenzies posed a far greater danger than being candid.

The rest of the men sat around the table, with Laird Iona whispering furtively at Lachlan’s answer. Clearly they had at least heard of him before. Aila wasn’t sure if that would play in their favor or not. For a moment, the room was filled with chaotic murmurings. Though it had been Finn’s question that Lachlan had answered, it was Iona who spoke next.

“Aye,” she said, her voice even, not needing to raise it to silence her advisors. “The last I heard was that the Kincaid Clan had been razed and left desolate. I was nae even aware that the heir still lived.”

“There was a rumor,” a balding councilor spoke up, his voice gravely from a lifetime of shouting orders. “That a Kincaid warrior escaped the English prisons and has thus far evaded being recaptured.”

Iona hummed thoughtfully, so clearly and completely in control of the room. Lachlan didn’t shift his feet or avert his eyes. Everything they had said so far was the truth, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. From the amused twitch at the corner of Finn’s mouth, he guessed that the Captain approved of Lachlan’s rebellious past.

“I will hear yer story,” Iona told him after another beat. “I want ye to tell me in yer own words. And then we will decide what to do.”

“Thank ye.”

Lachlan gave her a nod that looked more like a bow than anything else. She returned the gesture and sent a hand into the air, waving it over. Maids, who seemingly emerged from thin air, came behind the trio, giving them all a chair and a fresh cup of tea at the table. Aila settled herself in, grateful for the steaming brew and the accompanying biscuit. Arran looked just as relieved to have been given the chance to sit. Lachlan sipped once at his cup then set it down and pushed it back, ready to dive into his recounting.

“What ye have heard is the truth. At least, they are bits and pieces of the truth. I am honored that ye give me the chance to tell the truth in its entirety.”

Iona waved Lachlan on.

“Many years ago, a dear friend and I were sent to an Englishman’s home to bring him the warhorses he had bought and to help with training. Once there, we discovered a Scottish lass, desperate and distraught. Her father had given the lass to the Englishman to pay off a debt. But this man was a wicked man and had already taken to beating the young woman whenever the mood struck him.”

Arran winced at hearing his mother’s tale. Aila reached out a hand and rubbed his back for just a moment, wishing he didn’t have to relive this alongside Lachlan.

“She begged for us to help her escape. I could nae, in good conscience, leave her there. She was convinced the man would kill her and within two days of kenning this Englishman, I was too. So my friend and I helped her escape back to our clan. There, she married and started a family.”

Lachlan reached a hand in front of Aila and gestured to Arran.

“My godson, Arran, is her firstborn.”

Iona studied the child for a moment before flicking her eyes back to Lachlan.

“Though we kent the Baron was angry, we vastly underestimated just how far his fury would take him. Years later, he, with the help of a traitorous spy, attacked my clan. As ye said, my people were hunted and slaughtered mercilessly. He imprisoned me and a few of my most fearsome warriors only to torment us. They sacrificed themselves for me so I could escape and have a chance at rebuilding the clan. It was only in the last few months that I have been able to do so and have reunited with the few surviving members.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Finn probed.

“This man is verra dangerous. He was thwarted once more by one of my wife’s friends, who has now been captured and vanished. I come today to warn ye, this man does nae fight by the natural rules of war. He has nae issue killing women and children, ambushing clans so they dinnae have a chance to keep their families safe. His greed far outweighs any other thought he might have. I ask, humbly, that ye would consider allying with me and my people so that we could perhaps stand the chance of surviving against him. Another attack will nae be long off and without support, my clan will once again be wiped from the earth. Only, I fear the Baron will nae be content with only my land to claim. He will continue to invade, destroying everything in his path.”

Just as they had done before, the table of elders, perhaps ten men in total, broke out into frantic discussions. The once calm, quiet room erupted into waving hands and frustrated grunts.

“Ye claim that ye are here to warn us, but that is nae the truth,” a pudgy, red-faced man accused. “Ye are only here to use us.”

“Aye! He expects us to protect him from a problem that he created in the first place.”

“Coming here has put us all in danger,” the bald man from earlier added to the fray. “He openly admits he is wanted by the English. We could now be accused of harboring him. What of our families?”

Iona put a single hand in the air again. It took a moment or two longer to regain control of the room, but still, the cacophony of dissent died down. Each man turned in his chair to get a better read of her face, waiting for their Laird’s thoughts on the matter. But Iona’s face was inscrutable and Aila was convinced this had all been a huge mistake. It was bad enough that Taryn was in trouble, now they were too.

“I hear yer concern, Angus,” Iona answered serenely. “But I do think it is worth pointing out that Laird Kincaid—for that is the man in front of us—has put his own family in harm’s way to come here. He carries the greatest risk by traveling in the open, yet he did so anyway. We must hear the truth of the matter before making any rash judgments.”

“If I could be permitted to speak, M’Laird,” Aila found herself saying.

She didn’t know what had come over her to grant her the courage to interrupt other than the fact that she wasn’t going to sit idly by while a table of strangers attacked her husband’s character. And something told her that Iona didn’t mind hearing Aila’s opinions.

“Please,” Iona welcomed.

“I, too, was just as skeptical when I first learned of Lachlan’s past. I shared the same concerns that he was putting my family, complete with a few children, in immense danger. But from the verra beginning, Lachlan has done nothing but protect us. His purpose is nae to shirk his responsibilities to his clan or to run from trouble. He has come with the hopes of gaining the power to face this head on so that we have the chance at a future again.”

With every word she spoke, Aila gained more confidence. She believed in Lachlan to the very core and knew they needed this venture to be a success. They couldn’t afford anything less.

“His people were nae given any warning that their homes would be burned to the ground or that their children would be hunted like animals. If all we manage to do today was give ye that warning, then our purpose in coming is fulfilled. The threat in the south is a formidable one and growing. We must all be prepared.”

“Unless we unite,” Lachlan added to her impassioned speech, “and stand against the English as one, we will lose everything. There will nae be a single clan left to stand.”

Finn stood then, his arms tucked behind his back. Turning, he positioned himself behind Iona’s chair, putting a hand on her shoulder. Aila couldn’t help but think of what a striking pair they made. Though Iona stayed impassive, Finn’s expression had only hardened. His brows were tucked low over his eyes, his lips pressed in a thin line. When he spoke, his words were every bit as hard and unmoving as his tone.

“We have had enough war to last a lifetime. There is nay need to get involved in another man’s plight. Ye have gotten yerself into this mess. Ye must be responsible for getting yerself out of it. Ye say this Baron who poses such a fearsome threat is in the south, and there he will stay. I will nae drag my own good men into a war that does nae affect us.”

“It is my goal that we are able to avoid war entirely,” Lachlan answered, just as firmly yet with significantly more warmth. “I have enough widows and orphans to care for. I have buried all of my friends. I dinnae wish to stand at any more graves. That is why we are here. That is why we have come to ye. The Baron must see that he is outnumbered, outmatched. That is the only way to stop an invasion that will shake the verra core of the Highlands.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed even more, becoming slits of doubt and skepticism. He opened his mouth to give another sharp retort, but Iona’s hand raised once more, this time landing on Finn’s fingers still curled around her shoulder.

“If it is war we are discussing, then this is nae a topic that can be solved in a single night. Nor is this a decision I am willing to make without the support of Laird Murray. I will send a messenger to my cousin, requesting he join us in the morning. I think between the three of us Lairds, we will manage to come up with a winning strategy. For now, ye will be our honored guests.”

The maids reappeared at Iona’s words and stood just off to the side of the young family.

“Please, show the Kincaids to their rooms. See that they are each given hot baths, fresh clothes, and anything else they might require. Refresh yerselves. Rest after the journey ye have had. We will see ye all for dinner tonight.”

Dismissed, Lachlan, Aila, and Arran trailed after the maids, following Iona’s instructions. Though nothing was settled yet, the sense of dread that had followed them here lessened every time Iona spoke. Aila breathed a sigh of relief and thought of the bath that awaited her.