A Highlander Forged In Fire (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 8

  “I will miss ye, Duncan, but I agree that the life of a blacksmith is nae yer destiny and that ye are more suited to prayer than manual work,” Fraser said, as his brother began to clear away the bowls.

  “Besides, ye dae nae want me around when ye are courtin’ Isla Armstrong,” Duncan replied, winking at Fraser, who rolled his eyes.

  “I have met her on only a few occasions, Duncan, and the first of those was to shod the horses. That is my job. I am a blacksmith; that is why she came to me,” Fraser replied, shaking his head and stooping down to stoke the fire.

  “Aye, and she came back to ye the next day, despite being forbidden by her father. Ye will see her again, of that I have nae doubt,” Duncan said, settling himself opposite Fraser by the fire.

  “Her father has forbidden it. She came out of curiosity, that is all. We will nae see her again,” Fraser replied, shaking his head.

  “Well, dae ye want to see her again? And why has he forbidden it? Surely, she can speak to whom she likes. What is it about ye that he so dislikes? He doesnae even ken ye,” Duncan said, looking puzzled.

  “He is the Laird. His daughter is a noble lass, and she will be made to marry a noble lad. He doesnae want her going off with a lad like me. I am just a common blacksmith,” Fraser said.

  “But dae ye want to see her again?” Duncan repeated.

  Fraser though for a moment. He did want to see Isla again, but he had no wish to anger Alistair Elliott. The Laird had brought much business his way over the years, and to lose that would be unfortunate for business. Besides, Fraser wished only for a quiet life, and the thought of becoming embroiled in the affairs of the clan held no appeal to him.

  “If I saw her again, then I would be happy, aye, but I shall nae go out of my way to dae so. She is a nice lass, but she will soon find someone else on whom to fix her fascination. Now, ‘tis high time for bed. There is much work to dae tomorrow, and I need my rest,” Fraser said, nodding to his brother and making his way to bed.

  The scene in the little croft that night was homely and warm. Duncan, too, took to his bed as the fire burned low in the hearth. Outside, an owl hooted in the forest, and Fraser lay awake for a little while, the blankets pulled up over his head. He would like to see Isla again, but he dared not face the wrath of Alistair Elliott, and as he fell asleep, he knew that his thoughts of her were mere idles and that he should do his best to put her out of his mind.

  * * *

  The next morning, Fraser was busy at his work. He was hammering out a sword for one of the clansmen, and there was a chain-link to make for one of the crofters. The forge was hot, and every now and again, he would step out from the workshop and into the cool of the forest that surrounded the blacksmith’s workshop. Duncan had gone off to the kirk to see to his duties, and Fraser was sitting on the stump of a tree when a familiar figure emerged along the track to the village.

  “Hail there, Sweeney,” Fraser said as the stable hand approached, leading one of the Laird’s horses.

  “Fraser, a good day to ye,” Sweeney said, pulling up the reins on the horse.

  “Have ye lamed this poor beast already? I only shod him last month,” Fraser said, shaking his head and patting the horse’s nose.

  “Nae I, the Laird. He took him out on the marshes yesterday. There was trouble with the English at one of the crofts, and the Laird rode out to see the damage. The horse needs shoddin’ again. Can ye dae it?” Sweeney said, passing the reins to Fraser, who nodded.

  “Aye, of course, I can, ‘tis what I dae, is it nae; but ye must tell the Laird to be more careful with his beasts else they will nae serve him when the time comes,” Fraser replied.

  “Ye can tell him that if ye wish,” Sweeney replied, smiling, “and ye can enjoy his response.”

  “I’ll shod the horse, and ye can return for it tomorrow,” Fraser said, leading the animal to a tethering post outside the workshop.

  “Or ye could bring it up to Kirklinton,” Sweeney replied.

  Fraser laughed and turned to the stable hand with an incredulous look upon his face.

  “And be treated as I was last time by the Laird? Nae thank ye. I would rather take the horse to the English than face him,” Fraser said.

  “And ye may have to if the rumors are true,” Sweeney said, taking out a hip flask from his pocket and offering it to Fraser, who shook his head. “The English plan to rout the borders and see to it that the clans are made to pay for their aggressions these years past. It may be a different place very soon.”

  “And how dae ye know this? Ye are just a stable hand,” Fraser replied, shaking his head.

  “I hear things, Fraser, and I heard the Laird speakin’ to ye the other day. What is it he has against ye?” Sweeney said, cocking his head to one side.

  “If I knew that, then perhaps I could find a way to be welcomed up at Kirklinton instead of hurried away like a man in disgrace,” Fraser replied.

  “Ye were nae in disgrace with everyone. Wee Isla has certainly taken a likin to ye, Fraser. She is a bonnie lass and make nae mistake,” Sweeney said, smiling at Fraser, as though waiting for his reaction.

  “And what business is that of yers, Sweeney? Go on, get yerself away. We both have work to dae, dinnae we?” Fraser said, turning away from the stable hand who laughed at him and waved his hand.

  “I shall send Isla to collect the horse. Ye would like that, wouldnae ye?” he said, walking off down the track.

  Fraser made no reply, and he sighed as he patted the horse’s mane. All this talk of English invasions and an angry Laird was unsettling. Fraser wanted a quiet life, and as much as he liked Isla Armstrong, he knew too that she was forbidden fruit. Besides, she wasn’t interested in him, surely, he thought to himself, as he returned to the forge and began hammering out shoes for the horse. Even if she was, her father had forbidden it, and there was no point in pining after a lass who could never be his.

  Fraser was happy alone, or so he told himself. He would have to get used to it if Duncan was soon to enter the monastery and become a monk. He had his work and friends enough around about, he was happy, or so he told himself. Happy in his quiet life, undisturbed by the conflicts of Lairds and English nobles.

  “And that’s how I like it,” he said out loud, bringing the hammer down hard upon the horseshoe.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Isla had risen early that morning, and she was surprised to find Sweeney absent from the stable yard. Usually, he was up early, grooming the horses and preparing them for the day ahead, but this morning he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is Sweeney, father?” she asked, as the Laird appeared in the hall for breakfast.

  “If he is here, then he is in trouble. I sent him down to the blacksmith’s with that horse I rode yesterday. ‘Tis lame from the bogs on the marshes and needs shodding. I am glad he has left already; we need all the horses ready, lest the English try their luck upon us,” he replied.

  Isla was quiet for a moment. She had heard talk of an invasion between her father and the other clansmen. The rumors were rife, and it was said that soon, an English force would cross the border and wreak havoc upon the clans around them. There was a sense of fear in the air, and her father had sat up long into the night, brooding over what might be.

  “Dae ye really believe the Musgraves have strength enough for an attack, father?” she asked. “They have only ever shown themselves as cowards in the past, attackin’ innocent folk in their crofts or burnin’ remote farms. Would they really invade like that?”

  “Never trust an Englishman, lass, and remember yer own dear parents. They died when the Musgraves had greater strength than we, and I dinnae wish to see another day like that, nae ever,” he replied, shaking his head.

  Isla nodded; the thought terrified her, for if an attack came, then surely she would be caught up in it. Her first taste of battle had been far from successful, but she still wished to fight, despite her fears. If the English really had gathered strength, then her father would ne
ed all the help he could get in defending his lands. With these thoughts in mind, she wandered aimlessly back out to the stable yard, where Sweeney was just arriving back from the village.

  “Did ye see the blacksmith?” she asked, as he came to greet her.

  “Aye, I saw him, and he certainly blushes at the mention of ye,” Sweeney replied, grinning at her as she blushed.

  “‘Tis a pity then that I am nae allowed to see him, is it nae?” she said, glancing up at the windows of the castle, lest her father was watching.

  “And who knows what reason there is for that, aye?” Sweeney replied, walking off towards the stables, as Isla ran alongside him.

  “I could collect the horse for ye if ye wish?” she said. “He will be shod by the mornin’, won’t he? I could go and come back without my father realizin’ it.”

  “Aye, and if he did realize it, he would have me strung up from the battlements,” Sweeney said, shaking his head, “I will nae get involved in yer games, lass. I kept yer secret when ye went off for yer little walk, but I am nae going to let ye collect the Laird’s horse from the man whom the Laird has expressly forbid ye from seein’. Now let that be an end to it.”

  Oh, Sweeney, where is yer sense of adventure? Ye and I used to get up to all kinds of mischief when I was a bairn. Ye are nae fun anymore,” she said, catching hold of his arm.

  “There is little ‘fun’ to be had when we are facin’ an invasion from the south, lassie,” Sweeney said, turning to her, a serious expression upon his face. “Ye and I have always been friends, but I have a duty to ye and to the Laird, and I am nae going to let ye collect that horse, ye hear me?”

  Isla shook her head sadly and turned away. He was right, of course. It was a foolish thing to further seek to antagonize her father. But she was determined to see Fraser again and discover the mystery of their forbidden friendship. It was then that an idea struck her, and she looked up with a smile across her face.

  “Now what?” Sweeney said, eyeing her with suspicion.

  “Well, if I am nae allowed to collect the horse, then perhaps ye would deliver a note for me to Fraser? My father has only forbidden me from seeing him, he said nothin’ about letters,” she said, her face set in an imploring look designed to melt the heart of Sweeney, who sighed and shook his head.

  “And if I do so, will I get some peace from ye, lass?” he said, failing to disguise his amusement at her.

  “Oh yes, ye will nae hear from me again on the matter,” Isla said, and jumping up and down, she thanked him and raced back to the castle to compose her note to Fraser.

  It needn’t say much, only that she desired to see him once again and discover the secret of why her father had such a vehement dislike for him. She was careful not to let her father see what she was doing and waited until he had gone out before taking quill and parchment and scratching out her letter.

  “Dear Fraser,” it read, “since I am forbidden from coming to you, I have sent these words instead. I should like to see you again if you wish to, and I will wait for you on the road above the village this evening, where the track forks. There is a place there where we can speak freely. I have thought of you a great deal since our meeting the other day, and I long to see you. Yours, Isla Armstrong.”

  With the short note composed, she rolled it up and placed a seal of wax upon it, lest Sweeney’s wandering eyes should care to look upon it. She took it out to him later that evening and found the stable hand busy grooming the horses.

  “There is the note I wish ye to deliver in the mornin’, and I have sealed it too,” she said, handing the rolled-up parchment to Sweeney, who slipped it into his pocket.

  “Dae ye nae trust me nae to look at it, lass?” he said, sounding a little offended.

  “I dinnae trust ye at all,” she replied, laughing at him, “but think about it this way, if ye dinnae know what the note says, then ye can hardly be responsible for it, can ye? All ye have to dae is hand it over, and that is all. This way ye are nae going against anythin’ my father has said.”

  “I am too soft on ye, lass,” Sweeney replied, shaking his head and laughing as she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “What are ye plannin’ anyway?” he asked, as she turned to go.

  “Ye dae nae need to know,” she said, winking at him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fraser had the horse ready for the Laird early the next morning. He had other jobs to see to and wanted to ensure that the animal was ready for Sweeney’s arrival.

  “I may need yer help later, Duncan,” he said, as his brother prepared for his day’s work at the kirk.

  “I am helpin’ Father MacConkey. That old woman, Aileen Grant, has gone to her rest, and they are to bury her later,” Duncan replied, crossing himself.

  Fraser did the same, the mention of death bringing back thoughts of his parents and the sadness which both he and Duncan endured on their deaths. Both had been sudden, and there had been little warning, the fever striking them with sudden ferocity.

  “God rest her soul,” Fraser replied.

  “They say she was at peace though. Yer touch surely helped her, Fraser,” his brother replied, and nodding to Duncan, he left the croft.

  Fraser sighed and yawned, rubbing his eyes. He had not slept well that last night, his thoughts on Isla and her father. He wandered out to the workshop and brought oats for the horse, patting the animal’s mane as it neighed and stomped its hoof.

  “Aye, laddie, ‘tis better now ye have yer shoes, ‘is it nae?” he asked, as the horse shook its head and whinnied again.

  He was about to fire up the forge when the sound of approaching feet caused him to turn. Sweeney was approaching down the track, and he hailed him as he came close, holding a rolled-up parchment in his right hand.

  “Sweeney,” Fraser said, absentmindedly, untying the horse from its tether and glancing down at the new shoes to check all was in place.

  “Fraser, is the horse ready? The Laird will need it soon,” Sweeney said, pulling out a purse and handing it to Fraser, who nodded.

  “Aye, the horse is ready, but what is so urgent that the Laird must have him immediately? Are we at war?” Fraser replied, looking in puzzlement at Sweeney, who bore an anxious expression.

  “Nae yet, but soon we shall be, and it will be the worse for us all if the English invade. Ye will nae be safe here; they will come for us all,” Sweeney said, taking the horse’s reins.

  “Ye have heard somethin’ fresh since yesterday? Some new news?” Fraser asked, counting out the silver coins from the purse.

  “The Laird is worried, and there are reports on the road of English spies. Trust nae one ye dinnae ken, Fraser,” Sweeney said, and he took hold of the horse’s reins.

  “Ye may be one yerself,” Fraser said, smiling at him. “What is that ye carry in yer hand? A sealed scroll? Is it some secret message to the enemy?” and he laughed.

  But Sweeney shook his head and handed the scroll to Fraser, who took it with a puzzled look upon his face.

  “What dae I want with this? Is the Laird writin’ me notes of thanks now for his horses?” Fraser said, looking down at the seal, which bore the crest of the Elliott’s.

  “Nae, but one close to him is,” Sweeney replied, and without waiting for Fraser’s response, he led the horse back up the track towards Kirklinton, leaving Fraser quite surprised as he looked down at the scroll again.

  “Here … wait now,” he called, but Sweeney was already gone, and shaking his head, he looked down at the parchment and tore off the seal.

  He was pleased, though somewhat surprised to read Isla’s note. It seemed strange that she wanted to meet with him again, but he was delighted that she did, and as the afternoon wore on, he found himself humming and singing to himself as he went about his work.

  “Ye seem very happy, brother,” Duncan said when he arrived home later that afternoon. “Did ye nae hear the kirk bell tollin’ for Aileen Grant?”

  “Aye, I heard it, and I said a
prayer for her soul. But a man is allowed some happiness, even on a sad day, is he nae? She is gone to her rest and left this sorry world behind her, but we that are left must go on.”

  “Ye are right, but ye still have nae answered my question, why such happiness? Ye was singin’ just before,” Duncan said, settling himself on a stool and watching Fraser at his work.

  “I received a strange note today from none other than Isla Armstrong. She says she wishes to meet me this evenin,’ upon the path above the village. For what reason she didnae say,” Fraser said, smiling at his brother who rolled his eyes.

  “What did I tell ye, Fraser?” Duncan said, shaking his head.