Page 13 of The Lion

Darach let out a breath. The last thing he needed were delicate creatures that had to be coddled every other moment.

Just then a woman dragging a child behind rushed past him. She grabbed a man who stood by the doorway. “Ye have nothing important to tell the laird. He is much too busy for yer whining.”

Darach frowned while unsure what to do.

The family hurried out.

Then to his surprise, laughter rang out.

Isobel was laughing so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes. “Oh, my goodness, this is the most entertainment I’ve had in years.”

She walked into the great hall and turned in a circle. “Ye managed to run off even the dog.”

“My dog is probably in the kitchen,” Darach grumbled.

Stuart went to Isobel. “What do ye have in that book of yers?”

When she smiled at his brother, she transformed, becoming even more beautiful. “I write my thoughts. Although, for the most part, I have to save my thought until later, since I do not carry ink and quill. But it gives me comfort to hold it.”

He was about to ask her about her choice of dress but couldn’t find a way to word so that it would not be insulting. Just then his mother and the other women appeared.

They descended the stairs as Darach walked back toward the kitchens.

“Darach,” his mother called out.

“I must find Albie,” he said, turning on his heel and hurrying away.

Once he found his dog—who was, in fact, in the kitchen—he and the animal went out the side door to where the guardsmen practiced. Already warriors warmed up by swinging their swords with one arm and then the other.

They were learning the trick of tossing the sword from one hand to the other and completing mirror maneuvers. His brother Ewan, who’d returned from mainland Scotland, taught them the motions. Ewan stood in front of several men, explaining how it worked as the men tried to do it. Many times, swords fell to the ground; other times, the men managed to catch it but could not complete the motions.

Darach strolled to where the men were and watched as Ewan demonstrated several times before trying it himself. The first few times, although he managed to catch the sword, he could not complete the movements exactly the same with his right hand.

Before long, he was sweating from the exertion but was able to complete the maneuver.

“Darach, people have gathered in the great hall,” Cairn called out from a safe distance. “Ye should come and listen.”

“Is Stuart not there?” he responded, annoyed at the man, who’d become overly involved in everything. At the end of the day, he would speak to Stuart and Ewan about Cairn. Something about the man gave him pause.

“He is. However, there are many people here.”

Darach stalked over to the man. “I am yer laird. Ye will refer to me as such.”

“Of course, my laird, I apologize.” Cairn bowed his head. “I am not yet used to it.”

“It has been half a year.” Darach stalked to the same door he’d exited from and grabbed one of the cloths that hung over a line for when guardsmen walked inside after practice.

After dunking a pot into a rain barrel, he leaned forward and poured the water over his head, repeating the process to rinse off his arms. Then he dried off with the cloth.

He stomped the dirt from his boots and walked inside. The entire time Cairn did not leave his side.

There were people in the great hall, but thankfully not as many as the days prior. He went to the high board and lowered into a chair next to Stuart, who listed to a husband and wife complain about someone stealing their cows.

Turning to a pair of young men who waited to speak to him, he motioned them closer. “Our da is missing. We think someone may have killed him,” the distraught young man explained. “We come to ask for help. We need more people to search.”

“Do ye not have neighbors to help ye?” Darach asked astounded that people would not help this family.

The other boy nodded. “Aye, and we have been searching for two days, my laird.”