Lass' Valor (The Pith Trilogy) (24 page)

“I
can hear ye, boy, no need to shout,” he grumbled. “You say you’re from the
king?”

“Aye,
we are. We need to know what happened here, your lord is dead. Can you tell me
anything?”

“What’s
your name, son?”

“Brendan
MacKinnon, at your service.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, then frowned.
Couldn’t the man hear him? He said he had, yet didn’t. Brendan decided to use
intimidation to gain his compliance. He stepped forward and towered over the
man. Of course, the man’s back hunched slightly, making him appear to be bent
over.

The
old man waved his hand at Brendan. “Back up, lad, I won’t crane my neck to the
likes of you, looking up at ye. Lord Richard was …” The man began coughing and
sputtering.

Brendan
hoped to get answers before the man croaked in front of him. He stepped forward
again and pounded the man’s back, for which he received a grimace and the man’s
drawn-in breath.

A
dauntless elder lady stepped forward. “Sir, let him be. Davy always coughs like
that.” She helped the man to a chair and turned to him.

Brendan
thought perhaps the lady was the aged man’s wife. She spoke rather loudly,
likely from having to speak to her husband.

“Sir,
Lord Richard was here earlier. He and Lord Harry fought. None saw Lord Richard
kill him, but we know he did. After the servants set the food, they were
directed to leave them. We found our lord dead, and we were afeard that Lord
Richard remained, and that he would kill us, too.” She stopped to pat Davy on
the back then continued. “Lord Richard must have run off a short while ago. And
many of the servants did as well.”

“Where
are Fitzhugh’s solders?”

“My
lord’s men were severely decreased due to the crusade. He lost much wealth and
hadn’t been able to pay the knights. Many left when their service ended.” Davy
supplied that information.

Brendan
nodded. “Damn, he’s gone again, Colin,” he all but shouted.

The
aged man didn’t seem to notice his aggravation and mumbled absently. “The lot
of them ran off, just left me and the women here to see to the Lord. They be
frightened of spirits and claimed the lordship’s goost would kill them. Our
lord wasn’t all that bad, was he, Mary?”

Mary
didn’t answer her husband, but gave him a disgruntled look. So like a wife to
disagree with her husband. Brendan could see Katie’s expression, one of which
rivaled Mary’s.

“Is
there anything we can do for you before we leave, old man?”

“Aye,
ye might want to let the king know, and have him send someone …” The old man
commenced coughing again and Mary pounded his back.

Brendan
nodded and followed his brother out the door.

Colin
grumbled that he was in need of a good soaking in the loch to get the stink off
him from being in such filthy keeps. Brendan couldn’t agree more. After
visiting that place and de Morris’, a good dip in the loch was well-needed. He
wouldn’t feel clean again until he returned home to his beloved Highlands.

As
they left Fitzhugh’s holding, several knights surprised them. Brendan pulled
his sword free and took up the fight. At least, he was able to release his
frustration at not finding Richard. He used his foot to hold a man on the
ground, and he used his dagger’s butt to knock him unconscious. When he looked
around for more foes, he realized the fight had ended. Colin motioned for them
to move into the forest, where their steeds waited.

They
rode to a clearing, an hour’s ride from Fitzhugh’s keep, and surveyed the
damage to their men. Several men had been wounded and needed tending. Brendan
made a fire while Colin gauged their injuries.

Colin
winced when he saw Walt lying on the ground. He ran to him and knelt down
beside him. “Walter, where are ye hurt?”

“I’m
struck in me chest, it does not bode well, lad.”

“You’ll
be all right, Walt.” He looked around for his brothers then assessed the wound.

“Nay,
don’t bother, ‘tis a grave day for me, lad. I must speak to Brendan before I
die. Get ‘em for me.” Walt’s chest heaved.

Colin
jumped up and called to him. He paced beside Walt, frowning. “Walt, you cannot
tell him, the news will destroy him.”

“I
cannot die without telling him. He deserved the truth long ago. I always
promised myself I’d tell him one day, and that day is today. Get ‘em now,” Walt
insisted in the strongest voice he could muster.

“Brendan.”
Colin shouted over the camp.

Brendan
heard the shout and he strode toward Colin and Walt. He knelt beside Walt and
noticed the blood soaking his tunic. “Are you all right? Got yourself injured?”

“Listen,
lad, I have something to tell ye … before I meet me maker.”

“Walt,
you will not die. Come, let us take care of you. Colin, send for Ben, he’s good
at tending wounds. We’ll have you healed in no time.”

“Nay,
‘tis a fine day for death and I will meet it like a man.” Walt grabbed
Brendan’s tunic, pulling him close.

Walt’s
strength amazed Brendan. Even with his injury, he was able to force him closer.
Brendan helped him to a sitting position, by holding his shoulders.

“I
should’ve told ye this years ago, not now when it matters not … och, I never
had the heart. Your mother and I … we had an affair long ago. I loved her more
than any woman. You are not Donald MacKinnon’s son.”

“I’m
not?” Brendan spoke low as the words sunk into his mind.
Not Donald
MacKinnon’s son.
He searched Walt’s face for verity and looked into his own
gray eyes. Now that he looked at Walt so intently, he realized he was looking
at an older version of himself. Why had he not realized the resemblance between
them before?

“Nay,
you are my son. I want you to know how p-proud I am of you, l-lad.” Walt’s
voice broke on the last word and he sobbed.

Brendan
slouched at the news and released Walt’s shoulders. “You’re my father? Not
Donald MacKinnon? I don’t know what to say.”

“Aye,
Maggie gave you to me, but I could not tell you ere now. I shouldn’t have kept
it from ye, but I was sworn to take it to my grave. I always w-wanted to claim
ye.”

“Why
… Why didn’t you tell me?” Brendan sank back, watching him intently.

“Maggie
made me promise not to tell you. I uh …” Walt weakened and his voice faltered.

Colin
leaned over him and joined the conversation. “Walt, you’ve always been like a
father to us, all of us. We care about you, too.”

“You’re
good lads. Continue to care for … each other. You are good s-sons.” Walt closed
his eyes, the pain in his chest clearly evident on his face.

“Walt.”
Brendan shouted, and shoved Colin out of his way. He sprawled over him, calling
his name. It couldn’t end like this, he needed to speak to him, wanted to tell
him how much he respected him.

Walt
opened his eyes and whispered, “Lad, I lost my love … don’t lose yours. Do you
hear me, son?”

Brendan
nodded. Walt’s breathing ceased. His blood covered Brendan’s tunic, but he
wouldn’t let release him. Colin tried to get him to release Walter, but he
wouldn’t budge.

“Brendan,
he’s gone, there’s nothing we can do for him now. Release him.”

He
shook his head. “How could I have not known?”

Colin
didn’t answer. “We have to get him on a horse and away from here. We’ll take
him home and bury him. He must be placed with honor.”

Brendan
didn’t hear him. Seething with hostility, he wanted to pound something. “You
don’t seem surprised by this news. Why? Did you know of it? How long have you
known?” His voice lowered and forewarned his brother of his rage. He wanted to
flail his brother alive. His chest butted against Colin’s aggressively, and he
knew they’d come to blows. As anger increased his actions, Brendan couldn’t
help his enraged reaction.

Colin
shoved him backward, returning the furious look. “Back off, Brendan, you don’t
want to do this. I won’t lie to you, but you’ll just get indignant. Damn it to
hell, if I had told you long ago, you would have overreacted. I didn’t want to
upset you, and besides, Walt made me promise not to tell you. I would never
deceive him.”

“Mayhap
I don’t want to know this,” Brendan groaned out, and he backed up a step.

“I
should have told you. I found out Walt was your father right before you told me
about our ma’s plight. Do you remember? It was when Julianna left me and I was
a wreck.”

“Aye,
I remember. He made you vow never to tell me, and you disregarded my feelings
on the matter? Were you ever going to tell me?” Brendan’s throat constricted.

“I’m
sorry, Brendan, but he promised Ma that he wouldn’t tell. He never did. I
couldn’t go back on his request, but I would have eventually told you. Walt was
a man of honor, Brendan. You should be proud to have had him as your father.
Count yourself blessed that you didn’t have the father Robin and I had.”

“I
should have been able to spend more time with him, Colin, to have been his son
as I would have liked. Dammit, I find out when it’s too late, when it doesn’t
matter.”

Colin
placed his hand on Brendan’s shoulder, and looked at him apologetically. “It’s
not too late to honor him. Come, help me get him on his horse, so we can take
him home.”

They
lifted Walt on his horse and tied him with rope to keep him from falling off.
Brendan went inside himself. He mounted his horse and kept his gaze ahead. All
those years living a lie, he would have been honored to have Walt as his
father. Instead, he had lived with rejection from a father he’d craved
attention from. Fortunately, he’d had his brothers while growing up, but
Donald’s rejection affected him and he had never gotten over his supposed
father’s dislike. He knew Donald’s dislike was the sole reason for his
demeanor, but he couldn’t help that. It had been best to remain distant, unnoticed,
and thereby unaffected by his father’s harsh manner.

As
he rode home, he couldn’t help but think of all the times that he’d spent with
Walt—the many battles they’d gone through together, the nights they had spent
by the campfire when out hunting, and the times they had drank ale and jested
with the soldiers. Walt had entertained him with stories from his childhood,
and jested about his difficulties when he’d been learning to fight. Brendan
would miss him sorely. He was the father he’d always wanted but never had.

*****

The
entire MacKinnon clan attended Walter Ross’ burial. Most ladies cried and some
of the men had a tear, too. Walter, their beloved commander-in-arms, held in
the highest esteem by the clan’s people had died a warrior’s death. Father Tomas’
heartfelt words rang true. Walt died in battle as a strong warrior should. It
was the wish of all highland warriors to do so, and according to their custom,
they shouldn’t be mourned—if they died doing their duty. Colin had always kept
that oath. Whenever his men died in battle, he didn’t mourn them, because it
would be an insult. It was a sad day for the clan, and a dismal day for Colin.
Not only because of Walt’s death, but because his brother, Brendan, became
distant toward everyone, even him.

Colin
stood by Julianna, and knew she resisted her sorrow. Walt had been like a
father to her too, and she would miss his gaiety and counsel. He had helped her
adjust to the highland life when she had married Colin. Colin squeezed her
hand, and tried not to appear so grim. His wife watched Brendan, who stood
obstinately erect, showing no outwardly emotion. Brendan kept himself in check,
his eyes downcast, as if searching for some sign from the wooden box. It wasn’t
to come.

When
Walter was placed in the ground, Brendan turned and marched away. His brother
strode past Kate, not giving her a glance or greeting. Upon their return to the
highlands, Brendan had stayed in the barracks, and according to Julianna, who
had spoken to Kate, Brendan hadn’t gone to visit her.

Colin
knew this would happen. His brother’s standoffish attitude would only cause
more problems, but Brendan didn’t seem to care. Colin turned to go after him,
but Julianna stopped him.

“Colin,
let him be. He needs time to adjust to the fact that Walt was his father and
has died. He must do so before he can properly mourn him. Let him alone for a
while.”

“I
cannot. You know how he is; he’s going off to sulk. I cannot let him, he might
not ever return.” Colin stared after his brother.

Julianna
knew what he needed. She rubbed his chest with a gentle stroke. “He needs time,
Colin, he’ll return when he’s ready.”

“Brendan
does not have time. Damn it, Kate wants to return to England. If he doesn’t go
to her soon, she will leave without him. I don’t like that de Morris is still
on the loose. He intends to kill her. Until we dispatch him, I’ll worry about
her.”

“I
know, Colin, but it’s his decision. Mayhap she should go without him. Henry
will protect her until Brendan comes to his senses.”

Colin
walked beside her, holding her hand. He knew she was right, but he felt
somewhat responsible for what his brother was feeling right now. He should have
told him the truth years ago.