Chapter 37
When Ethan entered the great hall the next morning, he was feeling confident. Cocky, even as he sized up his competition. In addition to the Luttrell coat of arms, Ethan wore a smug smile. He wanted his competition to know who they were dealing with.
Ethan was also pleased his conversation with James had been productive yester eve. James had listened to his arguments and had nodded agreeably throughout his plea.
Never once did Ethan lead on that his father wanted Lachlan to be the one to win the property back. No, instead he promised to be the more responsible twin.
Ethan also reminded James how Lachlan had relinquished the family name, and for that reason alone, his twin should be out of contention.
James even nodded favorably when Ethan had insisted Fyvie stay in the Luttrell family. Neither brought up Rosalyn’s claims.
Ethan also told James, as a knight serving his king, he wouldn’t have the leave of duty to preside over both an estate in Scotland and one in the south of England.
Ethan pledged to make the sacrifice. With the two working together, he promised, the Luttrells could be an insurmountable force again.
But as much as Ethan campaigned for the award, James refused make a promise before the formal hearing.
Now, on the dais where they’d supped the night before, sat one solitary chair occupied by his half-brother. Two Garter knight sentries stood on either side of the long trestle table that served as a land court bench.
The room buzzed with conversation between Highlanders, wearing matching clan plaids, as they stood in small groups. Families of fathers and sons consorting over their claim.
Whispers among the Highlanders became more noticeable. Curious, Ethan shifted his gaze to the back of the hall for his own edification.
To his surprise, a sizable group of servants, led by a woman, walked straight up to the front of the hall. James nodded to the woman and stood. Clapping his hands together, the buzz in the hall subsided.
“Take your seats,” James instructed, and he did the same. “Will those making a claim raise their hands?”
Immediately, the arm of a woman servant shot up at the table in front of him, making Ethan let out a loud harrumph. The woman turned around and let her mouth flap open. He laughed at her reaction as did most of the others.
Her face turned beet red and she spun around giving James her full attention while Ethan made a quick calculation that as many as six, including himself were here to ask for control of Fyvie.
James took a gavel from the table and rapped on it three times. “Welcome clansmen, nobles, and servants. Although I usually start with the proceedings in the order of attendance, I will break with that decorum and allow the lady to go first out of courtesy.”
One of the Highlanders stood. “Donna waste all of our precious time, Sir James. You cannae be serious about hearing a servant woman’s claim to Fyvie, can ye now?”
The servant woman walked forward and stood in front of James. After raising her hands and clapping them above her head, an army of servants filed in behind her. Cooks, stable boys, farmers, serving maids, more than fifty. When they couldn’t stand directly behind her, they filed in around the rest of the contenders.
James stood to address the group.
“Good people. This is quite unusual. As members of the serving class, you are well aware you may not own land. What claim do you make this morn?”
By the time James finished addressing the servants, the rest in the great hall were on their feet and had moved toward the front to witness the claim. Ethan followed suit.
The leader of the group, the servant woman before James, stood at an angle so Ethan could see her face. She was tall in stature and wore a simple gray shift that matched her aging appearance. She wore her silver hair drawn back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck, and no adornments. Even though she appeared to have little significance to those in the room, it was apparent she was empowered by someone. No servants were this bold on their own. James had already made the point. They could never be landholders.
While Ethan considered the servants who stood behind her, he was grateful they were unarmed. Otherwise, they would have been a formidable group, a potential tyranny in the making.
He’d expected the Highlanders to cause some ruckus, but assumed the clans to be more boastful than baleful. Now he was grateful all would abide by his brother’s decision, for the Garter knights were revered and operated with the granted authority of the king of England.
Ethan studied his half-brother’s face as the servants finished taking their places. His patience was running short.
“Speak,” he commanded.
The woman blinked quickly. She took a half-step back, but stood steady.
“Good sir,” she began in a clear voice, surprising Ethan. “I am here to represent Rosalyn Macpherson, daughter of Dengas Macpherson, who was laird of this castle and whose family has held the only Scottish rule over Aberdeen since I’ve been alive. She’s of age now and deserves her rightful place.”
A low murmur of voices swept through the hall, but no one challenged her claim. When the modest disturbance settled, Ethan noticed the woman take the half-step forward she’d relinquished moments before.
Brimming with more confidence, she continued, “Unfortunately, neither my mistress nor her husband are available to appear here due to illness. The rest of her family has been in hiding.”
The room erupted this time in a louder conversation among groups of family members, no doubt over speculation as to why so many of the Macphersons were absent.
James pounded the gavel on table and took command of the proceedings again.
“Good woman, if I understand you, there is no one from the former laird’s family who can attend this hearing and you have been asked to make the claim on their behalf?” James asked with as much respect as Ethan imagined he could, but his half-brother did not keep the sound of disbelief from his voice.
When the servant woman hesitated, a man standing directly behind her stepped up to join her. “Good sir, my name is Simon Rothberg and I am the castle’s steward. Greta is a woman of her word and we,” he gestured to the impressive group of servants gathered, “are here to support her plea for Lady Rosalyn.” He bowed slightly, then faced James again. “May I speak freely, my lord?”
James nodded but did not relax his stance nor could Ethan. He was pleased his plan had worked so far, but he hadn’t expected advocates for the family to rally on its behalf.
Simon appeared to be close in age to the woman he stood next to, with graying hair at his temples and a slightly stooped stance, as if his years of working had taken a toll on his posture. The man shuffled a little forward and clasped his hands together in front of his heart.
“Sir James, I was born in this castle. So was my father and my father’s father. As far back as our family can recall, we’ve served the Macphersons. The lairds of this clan have always been fair to their servants and have cultivated our loyalty. For that I am forever grateful.” He paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts, then he grinned broadly. “Lady Rosalyn. Have you met her?”
James nodded.
“Well, when I describe her, you may recall, my lord, she has a fighting spirt and reminds me more of a lad than lass sometimes.”
With that admission, the group of servants began to chuckle and smile. It was clear she was loved by those who served her, making Ethan squirm. He was never comfortable with adoration or gestures of caring.
Simon’s face grew serious. “And because we honor her and support her leadership, we are prepared to die fighting for her,” he said as he raised his fist in the air and those behind him did, too.
James steepled his hands together in front of his chest. “I’m impressed with the loyalty you all share for your lady. No doubt that’s what most leaders strive to achieve. However, if given the need to defend this castle, Lady Rosalyn will need skilled soldiers and knights, not bakers and farmers.”
Now it was the clan groups turn to snicker and smile, making the servants look about and shrink their ranks, shuffling closer together.
“Loyalty is important, but I cannot award this castle on the pleas of servants. The king would never support it, so I must table this hearing until after the midday meal.”
Some disgruntled rumblings surfaced right away, but immediately subsided when James’s attention went from the servants to the loudest offenders.
“Regardless of the displeasure of those who join me today, I will give the Macpherson family a few hours. Clearly, even if their contention is to rule over this castle, a family member must be found to come before us,” James declared, then he snatched the gavel up and pounded on the wooden table. “Dismissed.”
This time the room erupted into a loud ruckus. No longer needed to abide by decorum, the clan groups and smaller gatherings of servants began to talk about the unusual proceedings. Ethan turned his back on them all and began to make his way to the exit. He was disappointed that James had not just dismissed the servant’s claims as bogus and award Fyvie to the Luttrells as he had expected.
With the great hall full of opposing interests, Ethan decided it was better to leave and revise his plan. For what he feared now, was word of James’s appeal reaching any remaining Macpherson family members in Aberdeen.
Until this hearing, he’d been certain Rosalyn and Lachlan had plans to make the claim by themselves. Yet, to secure his future, he needed to stop the gray-haired old lady from letting details of the hearing leave the grounds of Fyvie.
Stepping back from the main corridor at the intersection to the servant’s hallway, Ethan waited for Rosalyn’s supporters to disperse. Being servants, not nobles, no doubt they had chores to attend to and would need to return to their tasks.
Greta. She was his target now. As he zeroed in on his mark, he trailed her, unseen, in the shadows. When she led him to the dungeon staircase, he was not surprised.