Holler and thundering applause, stomps, and cheers exploded in the hall and Leith allowed them to continue for a while. “I must give thanks to a healer, who made the way to have him back fully on his feet. In honor of me Faither, Aaron Balloch, Laird of Lenichton, we will feast tonight till the wee hours of dawn!”
Platters of roasted beef, fowl and lamb began to enter the room, as mountains of boiled, braised and roasted potatoes followed. Fried fish, sugared mackerel and loaves of brown bread graced the many tables as well as sweetmeats, pudding, pies, and shortbreads. Leith went to his seat and took his mother’s frail hand.
“ ‘Tis a good day, Mother, try to smile,” he said.
Her thin lips barely curved and Leith had to hold back a tired sigh. Reaching for his goblet, he sipped water and looked over the room. He kept one eye on his father and one on the hall. Everyone was joyful, everyone was celebrating, music was in the air and food was flowing. For once, Leith felt the load he’d carried on his back for the past seven months ease.
* * *
“Here,” Nessa said while handing Mary a cup of tea and a trencher of food. “The hall is filled and nay one is going to be sending back their goblets in a good while. Makes no sense for ye to nae fill yer belly as well.”
Taking the food, Mary set to eat, it was nearly midnight but the people beyond, inside the great hall did not seem to realize that it was night. The kitchen was warm, fragrant and bright as other servants puttered around it.
Nibbling on honey-glazed pheasant, she nearly moaned in pleasure. The food tasted so much more delectable than it had before. She was nibbling on a sweet shortbread when a loud crash with screams chasing after it, blasted through the room.
She dropped her food, not caring that it had spilled to the ground and ran into the great hall to see people running out of the room and others cowering behind upturned tables. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw why.
Laird Lenichton, the man who had been so calm and serene was now lobbying goblets and trenchers far and wide. The high table was on its side and food dashed to the ground. Long rivulets of wine were staining the floor stones like freshly drawn blood.
He spun with a snarl and hefted a knife that whistled through the air before it embedded itself in a door. Leith was trying to get to the man but he had another knife in his hand and was brandishing it like a sword. “Come at me, ye heathens!” he snarled to thin air, “Fight me if ye dare!”
Leith lurched himself at his manic father and the knife slashed down in a killing strike. Mary screamed. Heads snapped to her, Lady Lenichton the first one, but Mary did not care that her act was blown. Leith was about to die at the hands of his own father. The man she loved was one wrong move away from being disemboweled.
Her hands flew to her mouth in horrified fear as the battle between father and son continued. Leith had managed to dodge the blow but his father was growing more manic. People were fleeing the hall, tripping over their feet to safety. Her legs were weak but she had to do something. She ran in and went to Lady Lenichton who had fallen on her side.
Looping her hands under Lady Lenichton, Mary pulled her away from the fracas. The lady drew her legs up under herself and pressed herself in the corner. Mary’s eyes were trained on the two still battling out on the dais. Dugald and another guard, Finlay, were lingering around the two, keeping keep watch for any chance to jump in.
Leith managed to grab his father’s arm and forced him to drop the knife. His father howled as his arms were twisted behind him. Dugald and Leith leaped in and grabbed the mad Laird. Mary’s heart shattered in two when she saw the raw heartbreak on her lover’s face.
She then looked at Lady Lenichton and saw—what? Was that a…smile? Mary blinked and the woman’s face was now bleak and tortured. Her mind must have tricked her, there was no way the woman would be smiling while seeing her husband in that condition.
The Laird was thrashing in his guard’s hands and the veins were bulging in his neck and arms. He went stiff while every limb of his body was rigid, before his knees buckled under him and he went slack. The man had collapsed.
Leith’s face was tormented and grief-stricken. He pressed both of the heels of his palms to his eye and a low groan of pain left him. Mary stood but lingered back. Leith staggered a little but he caught himself, took his hands away from his face and said, hollowly, “Take him to his room, tie him to the bed. Dugald, stay inside with him and Finlay, outside. No one goes in unless it is me and the healer, understood?”
“Aye,” Dugald grunted as he and Finlay heaved the man into their arms and carried him out and back to his room.
The steel in Leith’s spine gave out and his shoulders sagged, “Mary, stay with me mother for a while. I have to go and track down that healer. I cannae understand why this has happened. He was well, I kent he was well. He was back to himself. All this week he was well. I saw him last night…he slept like a babe.”
Mary nodded. Leith called for the servants to come in and clean up the place while he accompanied Mary and his mother up his mother’s room. He hugged and kissed his mother the cheek and then did the same to Mary. “Stay with her, and pray
