“However, if we can plant seeds in the minds of all the assorted clan members to make them believe one of the twins will make a fine laird, I believe we can bend him to our will. Alasdair and Andrew Stewart are not the sharpest knives in the toolbox!” He laughed wickedly.
“Then, in effect, will the Stewart clan be under our control?” William asked.
Laird Ballantine nodded. “I hope so, but only if we can bend the successful Stewart twin to our will, and I don’t think that will be a difficult undertaking. Then we will have gained a massive amount of influence and power.”
He looked at his son with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Of course, if you could somehow make Janice Stewart fall in love with you at the same time, that would be enormously helpful. It would be a most advantageous marriage, especially if there were children. Think of that, Will!” His voice was rising with excitement at the possibilities. “You would be spreading our influence deeply, not only into the Stewart clan but all the others too. We could end up being overlords of everyone.” He chuckled wickedly.
Bernard Taggart was becoming alarmed and a little angry as he looked at the laird. The whole idea of manipulating people in this way was making him feel distinctly uneasy, but he worked for the laird and depended on him for his livelihood, and he had to do his will. However, if he had known the truly devious nature of Ballantine’s plans, he would have feigned illness or found another way to avoid the event.
“Father, that is never going to happen,” William said patiently, as if he were talking to a small child. “I have told you before that I have no intention of being married yet. I will not be wed for the sake of your political ambitions! If you are so keen to have the Stewart woman in our family, marry her yourself!”
He jumped to his feet, grabbed a lantern, and strode into the forest, both to relieve himself and to calm down a little. His sire was desperate for him to wed, but he had his own reasons for not doing so. Anyway, Janice Stewart sounded like a nightmare!
* * *
When William came back to the fire, he found that his father had retired for the night. Bernard was sitting beside it, looking into the flames thoughtfully.
“What are you thinking about?” William asked his friend.
Bernard looked up, startled, then laughed. “I was thinking about a haunch of venison with a lovely Burgundy wine,” he confessed. He lay down on the grass and closed his eyes.
“Thank you so much for reminding me how hungry I am!” William grumbled. “I hope we have enough food for the rest of the journey.”
“That is a terrifying prospect,” Bernard said, shivering. “I am not a pleasant person when I am hungry!” They both laughed. It was at times like this, when he and his friend were talking companionably, that he felt as if he truly had a brother.
“You? Terrified?” William asked in disbelief. “Now I have heard everything! If you are hungry tomorrow, just kill something.”
“Well, there is plenty of meat on you…” Bernard mused, looking his friend up and down.
William swatted him, and there was a brief, friendly wrestling match before the two friends went into the cottage and lay down on the hard ground, so exhausted that they fell asleep at once. When dawn came, they broke their fast with ale and bread that was as stale as slate and reluctantly mounted up again for the rest of the journey.
“I hope we get to the castle before nightfall,” Bernard said wearily. “My backside is already complaining.”
1
Laird Donald Stewart was weary to the bone. He had been up since dawn coughing and retching since the wasting disease that was consuming him gave him no rest. He knew that his days were few and did not want to waste a single second of the time he had left. Nevertheless, he wanted his children to remember him fondly and with joy, and that was why he was attempting to make the question of his succession into a celebration.
He sighed with disappointment as he looked at his twin sons, however. The whole debate around who would be the heir could have been settled if his youngest child, Janice, had had the sense to be born first and been a boy. She had stubbornly refused, however, leaving her twin brothers, Andrew and Alasdair, who were two years older than she was, to fight it out between them. Since this suited absolutely nobody, the laird had decided to choose another approach, one that he hoped everyone would enjoy.
“I see that most of the hard work of organizing the celebrations has been done,” the laird observed, frowning. “By Janice.”
He glared fiercely at his sons, who were sitting on the other side of his desk. Andrew was picking at his fingernails with a pocket knife, barely listening. Alasdair was inspecting his shirt sleeve, tutting with annoyance at a wine stain he had acquired that morning through imbibing his favorite drink as soon as he rose from bed.
Laird Donald Stewart thumped his fist on the table, startling the two young men into awareness. “Have you two heard a word I have said?” he demanded, before he succumbed to a bout of coughing so severe that he had to brace himself against the table to stay upright.
Janice rushed around to his side of the table and knelt down beside him to hold his hand until the worst was over. She waited for the coughing to stop, then passed her hand gently over his forehead and kissed his cheek.
“All right now, Da?” she asked softly.
Donald looked into the soft, loving eyes of his only daughter and nodded. He wiped away the tears caused by the paroxysm of coughing, managing a weak smile. “Much better now,” he said hoarsely.
His two sons were watching him, looking concerned, but neither had made a move to help. However, this was quite normal, and he had not expected them to behave any differently.
“Can you fetch a glass of water, please, Alasdair?” Janice asked sternly. Her brother did so, and when she received it, Janice put it to her father’s lips and tipped it carefully into his mouth. He sipped it slowly, and after a few moments, he smiled at her.
“Thank you, Janice,” he said fondly. “You are a good girl.”