Chapter 41
As James made his way toward the great hall, he weighed the options of awarding Fyvie. Although he’d expected to have made the final decision by now, he was more conflicted than before.
Last night, while he lay awake alone in his chamber bed, missing his feisty new wife, James was reminded why the decision was so important.
Yes, he’d killed his father Nicholas, not out of spite, or anger, or for personal gain. He’d killed him to protect his own. His mother, Victoria, and wife, Elena. Both women’s lives had been threatened by his deceitful and malicious father. A man who did not raise him. A man who defamed his mother and stole Fyvie from her. Both women had been pawns in Nicholas’s plan to regain his earldom, the castles he’d lost when King Richard III had taken the throne.
But because his father’s cousin, King Henry VII, had reinstated the Luttrell family’s holdings before Nicholas’s death, his half-brothers now coveted the Scottish castle that had been in his mother’s family for generations.
It had all started when Victoria’ father, Sir Brodie, banished Nicholas to Fyvie castle many years ago and James was told his real father was dead. It wasn’t until King Henry’s coronation and his mother’s kidnapping that James met Nicholas in a battle to the death. Oddly enough, that wasn’t when he’d killed him, though the joust was the impetus to unraveling his family’s story—that Nicholas was his real father, and uncovering his mother’s ties to Fyvie.
Now from what he’d been told by Lachlan, his mother, Victoria, was related to the woman named Rosalyn. No doubt if his mother had a say in the matter, she’d insist that Fyvie Castle be awarded to the Scottish lass.
Yet, the word from his half-brother Ethan claimed King James III refused to award the castle’s title to a woman and had forced Lachlan’s marriage to the young Macpherson lass to solve the issue. Now, not only did she covet the award, but so did her brother-in-law, Ethan.
‘Twas a story many might think fictitious, gathered from his twin half-brothers and the Italian bishop, but the issues were real for James.
A final turn in the corridor brought him to his destination. The final judgement could be delayed no longer.
Taking his place at the makeshift court bench in the great hall, James scanned the group before him.
“Welcome nobles, clansmen, Lord Lachlan, and Lady Rosalyn.” He directed his attention to the Highland lass before him. “I see you are now well enough to join us.” A few snickers surfaced in the back of the hall.
“Aye, Lord Luttrell, I am honored to be here,” she responded, ignoring her husband beside her. “You see it was not that I was sick at all. Instead, I was held against my will in the dungeon of this castle to prevent me from making a claim.”
The sounds in the room went from the snickers to shocked ahhs of surprise and hushed voices.
Lachlan’s expression turned from neutral to nervous.
James responded by slamming the gavel to the table. “Go on,” he encouraged her, still standing.
“You see, Sir James, Fyvie is my home, where I was born, as was my father, his father, and his father before.” She glanced behind her. “I was told my servants stood before you earlier today to support my stake. I see the men of families who’ve protected the Macphersons for hundreds of years gathered here.”
She swept her hands in a broad arc and gazed about the room from one side to the other. “I am willing to lead Fyvie, because I am willing to die for Fyvie.”
The men cheered as she clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Sir James, I would like to do something unconventional.”
“My lady, you’ve already accomplished that so far. Please,” he said, gesturing her to take his place and speak. James stood to the side while she walked onto the dais and Lachlan stepped back into the crowd.
Rosalyn held her composure as she readied to address those before her. “When I left Aberdeen a few weeks ago, I tried to take over Fyvie dishonestly.” She paused, after a few hushed words interrupted her, but she pushed on.
“And I married for convenience, hoping that would bring me closer to my goal.” More mumblings of disbelief sounded, and she waited to finish.
“But to make matters worse,” she started again, “I was lied to by someone close to me pretending to be another.” She stopped then and appeared to search for that someone, perhaps Lachlan? But she seemed undeterred.
“But during my journey, I was reminded that God had showed me a path that was true and if I traveled that path, I would be able find my way home.
“Of course it was not easy, and I feared for my life and those I care about, but the road has brought me home to stand before my countrymen,” she said, her arms sweeping outward.
“Because for me, home really isn’t a place, it’s people. So with your permission, Sir James, I request that the choice of lairdship of Aberdeen and control of Fyvie Castle be awarded instead of by decree, by vote here and now.”
James weighed her request for a few long moments. He was thinking about what he would report back to the King of Scots. Not only was her request at stake, but so was his reputation. He joined her and raised her hand with his.
“Good people of Aberdeen. Is this your new laird and leader? Will you follow her orders, wishes, and if called upon, fight to the death to protect her and all those within these walls?”
When James ended his plea, the room went silent. But then a wave of hands began to rise. Before long, every hand was in the air, including his.
Then room erupted in cheers and huzzahs. When the group finally quieted down, a voice called out from the back of the hall, “Aye, she will. I can testify to that.”
The large crowd of only men began to part as a dark-haired man made his way forward. The widow’s peak was unmistakable. His other twin brother.
Ethan?
“Hello, wife, you can do this all on your own, but I am here to support you,” one of the twins said, gazing at her lovingly.
“Lachlan?” she said, dazed, as if she’d seen a ghost.
Then Rosalyn spun around. “Where’s Ethan?”
James took her elbow. “Don’t you mean, Lachlan?” Now he was confused. There was only one twin standing with them.
She turned around in a circle looking out over the heads of men who’d just chosen her as laird, searching, then beseeching, “Donnae let him get away.”
“Lachlan or Ethan?” James needed clarification.
“We must hurry and save one and jail another.”
Then she took the hand of the twin standing weak-kneed before him. “This is Lachlan,” she said with a huff, as if it was easy to tell them apart. “Ethan is the one trying to escape.”
James’s raised his hand and signaled his Garter knights who were stationed around the perimeter of the hall.
“Ethan!” This time she shouted the name. As Rosalyn’s gaze swept the room, the others turned about in their places.
James noticed the back of a noble that fit Ethan’s description slipping out through the kitchen entrance as his eight Garter knights joined him on the dais.
Rosalyn spotted him at the same time. “There he is. Lachlan’s twin. Lock him up,” she pointed toward the servant’s entrance.
Most gathered for the hearing, stood and many others started toward the servant’s entrance, including Lachlan.
James pulled her aside by her elbow behind his men. “You’ll need to provide specific directions. Clear your head. Speak directly,” he instructed.
“Hold up!” Rosalyn shouted, accepting his advice and coming forward to the front of the dais.
“Aye, Laird Rosalyn,” many shouted in return.
She squared her shoulders. “I know this will sound confusing, but the man who stood with me first before Sir James was not my husband, Lachlan, but his twin, Ethan, who locked me in the dungeon and later coerced me into this farce, knowing he could not win Fyvie without me.”
Then she stopped her confession and her gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on James’s other brother. “There is the real Lachlan, poisoned by Ethan and left for dead in the dungeon. But because of prayers and the will of God and those who fight alongside him, my husband has escaped.”
“We’ll fight for you, Laird Rosalyn!” one man shouted.
“We’ll bring Ethan to justice,” another called out.
“Kill the bastard,” said a third.
Rosalyn held up her hand. “As much as I’d like to kill the bastard, Ethan should be brought to justice first,” she said with a level voice.
“Those who are willing, now is the time to search the grounds, every corner of the castle. Take a good look my husband. Remember, he’s dressed in noble robes, not a kilt.”
James laughed at that and added, “Should make him easier to find considering there are few on the grounds who aren’t dressed as Highlanders, knights, servants or squires.”
Rosalyn nodded. “The other Garter knights will be instructed by Sir James to secure the gates and entrances of Fyvie, then Lachlan and I will go take care of my mother and sister.”
In an orderly manner, the Highlanders, knights and servants went about following Rosalyn’s orders.
The lass reminded James of another lady with passion for what’s right and courage worthy of envy.