The Laird by Virginia Brown

Author:Virginia Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2018-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

DAYLIGHT PICKED out details in the construction that evening shadows had hidden. Rob went over the accounts with Simon, then supervised the workmen’s labor, watching as the masons carefully placed stones on the second floor. Ramps and scaffolds clung to the sides of the tower, and the steady tap of carpenters’ hammers on joists and floorboards sang a melody of progress.

“Much of the materials are local,” Simon said as he squinted up at the workmen on the scaffolds, “and that has saved you money. The master mason costs you four shillings a week, while the cheapest worker still costs sixpence.”

“What of the barnekin walls?” Rob said. “Will they be finished by summer’s end?”

“Och, aye, with only a little more to go.” Simon shot him a frowning glance. “Do you expect trouble?”

“When has there not been?”

“Peace these four years past—what do you know?”

“The Red Earl of Ulster is dead, and the king is in Ireland. Trouble is afoot, and men are gathering.”

“The regents stir up war.”

“Aye, and hired mercenaries are converging in York. If Edward moves north, the Bruce will meet him.”

“What of you?” Simon asked.

“Word will come when I’m needed.”

“And the lady?”

Turning to face him, Rob said, “She will remain here until I decide.”

“Will you return her to Argyll?”

He had wondered that himself. Loath as he was to admit it, he knew that to relinquish the lady to a cruel fate was impossible. He would never do it willingly. Argyll would have to come to his gates with an army to recover his hostage, and he didn’t think him fool enough for that. There was the matter of treason that hung in the balance. . . .

“Or to her family?” Simon asked when Rob did not reply at once. “You could ask a hefty ransom of Wakefield.”

He swore softly.

“Christ, Simon, you have more questions than an oak has leaves.”

“And you are in a devil of a temper.” Simon leaned on a carpenter’s frame, eyeing his cousin. “You never told me why there is such bad blood between you and Argyll. Oh, I know of his treachery that saw you arrested by the English, but there is more to it, I think, than you have told.”

“Aye, so there is.” It was a thing he’d not told anyone, for to reveal too much would be to share the danger. Argyll was ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to use any means to find the proof of his treason. But that was hidden well, where no man could find it until he was ready. The time would come. He had only to wait.

There was a shout, and both men turned to see one end of the scaffold slide and a stonemason leap free just before it came crashing down. The man was unhurt but shaken, and large blocks of stone lay broken on the ground.

“Grant pardon,” he kept muttering, shaking his head, his leather apron covered in stone dust, “grant pardon.”

“Take him to the shade,” Rob said, “and give him some ale.”

The master mason gave directions for new stone to be cut, while the shaken worker was given a jug of ale.

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