Chapter 15

"Fannybaws!"

Mister McDonald entered the room, his plaid flapping around his diminutive frame. In the smiddy barn, the two men looked around.

"Guid morning, to ye, sir," said Malcolm, courteously. He stood up as the tiny blacksmith stumbled into the room.

It was morning, and he and James were sitting, propped up on their makeshift cots. Ainslee and Marisse had come in, each carrying tranchers and jugs. Hearing her father"s entry, Ainslee set down the wash bowl, and listened curiously.

Her father nodded a brief acknowledgement, and then continued speaking. All the while, attempting to re-tie the oversized plaid which hung around his waist. Watching him, Ainslee rolled her eyes.

"Tis fannybaws, young Master Duncan, if ye forgive me," said McDonald, his brown eyes fastening on Malcolm"s tight. Malcolm looked perturbed.

"Ahm, um, whit?" he was forced to ask. He and James had been sitting discussing matters, when Ainslee"s father had come crashing through the door, delivering his baffling verdict.

Mister McDonald smiled at Malcolm patiently. "My apologies, sir. I couldnae help overhearing whit ye an" the laddie said..."

Malcolm looked blank, so Mister McDonald elaborated. "Aboot the fight, between yer father an" yer brother..."

"Half-brother," said Malcolm, troubled. He rubbed his stubbly chin, despondently. It didn"t matter to anyone but him, but times like this it rankled. "He was ma"s stepson, by her previous marriage. In truth, he isnae really ma brother at all..."

His voice trailed off. At times like this, it helped to remember that Bruce was his brother, in name only. "But father brought him up as his own... an" see how he repaid him?"

Softly, he drifted off. When Malcolm came back to, it was to four pairs of eyes, all trained on him. This brought him up fast. "Ah, I mean, tis nae fash, sir, please continue wi" yer point..."

Holding court in front of them, McDonald nodded, although was still battling his oversized plaid.

"I said, twas fannybaws, when yer friend here, I, forget his name...," McDonald shuffled unceremoniously from one foot to another.

Ainslee looked down, Malcolm noticed her cheeks redden. Swiftly, he hid a smirk. But Mister McDonald was his host, and a generous one, so Malcolm looked keenly at him, and smiled.

"James," said James, his eyes twinkling at Marisse. She stuck her head down and averted her gaze. Malcolm pretended not to notice the frisson between them. He was too busy trying to catch Ainslee, similarly looking away from him.

"James," said Mister McDonald, before clearing his throat. He blinked back the rays flooding the barn early that morning. By the look of things, it was a clear day, albeit chilly.

Already, Malcolm was giddy with anxiety. He longed to be away, on his horse and speeding through the clan. If he set off now, he could reach the Duncan keep easily by nightfall. But first he had to plan his moves.

Maybe his eyes had glazed over, because Mister McDonald tapped him jovially on the shoulder. With a start, Malcolm turned around.

"Aye, what he said... about the laird, yer father, offering yon brother, ahem, step-brother oot for a fight," said McDonald, his dark eyes glinting in the sudden, bright sunlight.

Now Malcolm was listening. "Go on," he said, keenly, settling down to listen.

"Well, I was there," said McDonald, conscious of their interest. His eyes flitted briefly to Ainslee who looked up.

"I didnae ken," she protested. Now she too sat down on a little stool by the smiddy fire. It was smoldering gently in the fireplace, waiting to be rekindled. Half-heartedly. Ainslee stoked it, keeping full view of her father. "Ye nae told me..."

"I didnae want to upset ye," said her father, grimly. "Twas nae a nice sight..."

McDonald"s eyes went to Malcolm"s. "Twas nae as Bruce said. Yer father didnae offer him for a fight..."

"I kent it," said Malcolm, quietly. And he had. "There"s nae way my father would have fought him... it doesnae make sense. Bruce was the challenger..."

McDonald nodded, but did not quite concur. "Bruce came to yer father, accusing him o" all sorts... saying that he was in league wi" the McIvers, that sort o" thing," he said.

Malcolm listened. "So, Bruce threatened him to a duel?"

His jaw was clenching, inside, he felt sickened and wronged. But the little blacksmith raised his eyebrows.

"Nae," said the smith. "He didnae, that is the whole thing. Laird Rabbie was trying to smooth things over, when Bruce came marching over, hollering the odds! But Bruce didnae challenge him to a duel..."

Now they were all listening. The tiny smithy had the ear of the entire barn, self-consciously, he hopped from foot to foot,

"So what did happen," asked Malcolm, quietly. McDonald smiled.

"...They argued for a while, an" then eventually, Bruce backed off. Thinking it was all over, the laird began to turn, to leave as well. But then, in a second, twas all over… Someone had plunged a sgian dubh right into Rabbie"s back. I didnae catch who, but either way, twas either the son, or one o" his lackeys!"

Malcolm sat there, blinking. The more he heard, the less he understood. Suddenly, he felt the chill wind from outside penetrate the shop.

"Ye mean, Bruce attacked him, when he was going away," he said, in a small voice.

McDonald just gave a nod. His eyes went to Ainslee, blinking back tears.

But this was nothing on how Malcolm felt. His heart was erupting painfully in his chest..

"Ye cannae trust a man, like that," said McDonald, somewhat unnecessarily. Malcolm almost choked. He was horrified. "So ye"ve got to do the right thing, for all o" us in the clan. We"re right behind ye!"

Malcolm stared for a moment or two, dazed, into the distance. The revelation had not taken him by surprise, exactly, but it had made things real.

Anxiously, Ainslee looked at him. "We are behind ye, Malcolm," she said, softly. Malcolm"s stomach tightened. She looked so sweet and fragile, he immediately wanted to put his arm around her. Of course he could not.

Coughing, Malcolm confounded his fears, and resolved to sound firm.

"I shall find Bruce, an" slay him," he said, simply.

There was silence from Ainslee and her dad, but James looked approvingly.

"An" I shall be right by yer side!" announced James, sitting up from the makeshift bed. Malcolm felt the burn of his anger bubbling up on the inside. Just thinking about what happened gave him anguish.

But to his concern, Ainslee was watching him with uncertain eyes.

"But what army?" asked Ainslee, presciently. Her brown eyes met his, and Malcolm had to work hard to restrain his feelings. At first light she was radiant, the early sun picking rays out of her hair. But her eyes remained focused.

"Whit?" Malcolm asked, taken by surprise. It was hard for him not to look at her, she was compelling, the softness of her hair curling over her shoulders. Eventually, Malcolm managed to drag his eyes back to the room.

"Ye an" whose army?" said Ainslee, pointedly. Now everyone was looking at her. In the early light, the three of them stood, and listened. Ainslee continued. "Ye ken, that I will be there to help ye... but Malcolm, I am nae a scary prospect for a platoon o" men! Malcolm, ye need an army, or at least, a body o" men... Ye canna just ride in there an" offer oot Bruce. He will slay ye dead..."

It was a bold statement, and from the silence that greeted Ainslee"s sentiment, Malcolm realized there was sense. He cast his eyes about. No-one would catch them; James, Ainslee"s father and Marisse all looked away.

Finally, Malcolm spoke. Deep down he already knew she was right. "James?" he said, looking to his captain. Reluctantly, James raised his head. His murky brown eyes leveled with him.

"Aye, the lass is right. On oor own, we have nae chance. But Mal, I"ll still be by yer side...," he said, before adding. "Perchance we ambush him, on the roads, somewhere, where naeone is around?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Absolutely nae. We are nae common brigands!" he flashed, angrily. James looked abashed.

"Well, then, maybe I can raise a crowd, I can go back to the boat, an" get some..."

"Nae," said Malcolm, troubled. He began to walk around the room. As he did, his thoughts cleared. "Nae, nae like that. Ye dinnae understand it... Ainslee, James, I am nae some rabble rouser...nae a rogue...! I am nae going there to slay the laird, like some wee cur... I am the laird!"

His pacing about stopped, Malcolm found himself holding a recently constructed pair of tongs. Softly, he put them down, and looked back to the others.

"I ken ye are, but what can ye do to prove it?" said Ainslee, point blank. Malcolm stopped, he hadn"t thought of this. Ainslee continued.

"Malcolm, I ken ye, but ye"ve been gone ten years, an" to most, yer already dead," she said, as Marisse nodded, her sheet blonde hair dazzling in the light. "Nae-one kens ye, an" it took me some time to spot ye!"

Ainslee moved over, watching Malcolm closely, "Ye need to find some other way...to show them..."

She was close now, near enough to touch her. Malcolm sensed her body, its heat coming closer. A small breath of her perfume came over him, leaving him transfixed.

For a moment, he paused. He had not thought of this. Then, his thoughts cleared.

"I have proof," said Malcolm, his hands going to his pocket bag. Swiftly, he rifled through his things, before drawing out the gold clan ring.

Placing it in his palm, he revealed it - its distinctive black gemstone plain for all to see. Ainslee"s eyes widened.

"It...it"s yers," mumbled Ainslee, and went to sit down. She sat so quietly it was hard not to surmise she was affected deeply. Malcolm"s heart quickened. He had upset her.

His mind went to the ring he had given her all those years ago. It should have been this one. She should be wearing it now.Trying to stem the thoughts that were brewing in him, Malcolm"s eyes flashed around.

"Aye, tis mine, an" Bruce kens it. So do the elders, an" everyone else... Trust me, when they see this, they will ken tis mine too... Which is why I must do this...!"

Shaking, Ainslee reached out to him.

"Aye, ye must," she said, as beside her James nodded his head. "But nae just yet. Malcolm, allow me... to find oot a bit more about the lie o" the land... Mal, I beseech ye... Remember, fools rush in...!"

Eye to eye, she made her point, her deep brown eyes connecting with his. Surprised, Malcolm felt their spark. And from having been certain, he now found himself a little more calm.

"Very well," he said, with reluctance. Once again, he was pacing the small confines of the smiddy shop. Here and there items were strewn about, and Malcolm could not help picking at them.

Finally, he stopped in his pacing, and, inexplicably, holding a small metal bolt or somesuch, he found.

"Very well, I will wait. Until ye come back, an" then we will hatch oor plan..."

Mister McDonald nodded, and the others sped along. It seemed like no time, but somehow they were now both very much alone. Uncomfortable, Malcolm moved backwards.

Her gaze was still fastened upon him, glowing.

"I will go, I will find things, I will nae let ye doon," said Ainslee, before turning to leave. Malcolm smiled.

Looking down, he noticed the iron nut in his hand was in fact a ring. Astonished, he held it closer.

Not just any ring.

"Mon coeur avez sans départir,"

Malcolm read the inscription, it was the posy ring he had bought for Ainslee, all those years ago! He gave a gasp. "Ainslee?"

But she had gone.