A PATH AHEAD
Brodgar stood in the doorway of his father's study, watching the man at his desk. The light of a single candle shivered down the dark chestnut of his hair, now frosted at the temples, and he looked serene. A big man with an aura of power about him, seeing him here in this homely setting, the firelight flickering over his sculpted face, made him vulnerable. Brodgar swallowed.
My father is a powerful thane, and a kind man. I don't want to make trouble for him.
He and Alf had agreed to meet with the thane after dinner, the time he spent checking the estate accounts. Brodgar looked around the hallway, wishing Alf would appear. Somehow, having him with him would make it easier to do.
“Brodgar?” Alf whispered. He came up the hallway from the opposite side and Brodgar felt his eyes widen and then narrow as his father heard his voice.
“Oh! Son! Alf! A surprise,” he said, looking up from his work to see them in the doorway. “Come! Sit down. To what do I owe this delegation?”
Brodgar and Alf chuckled self-consciously.
“Father, I...”
“We wanted to...”
Both of them spoke together. Lord Broderick gave a warm laugh.
“I'll have to arbitrate, I see. Alf, you are usually the aggrieved party.” He made a wry face at Brodgar, who chuckled. “You may go first.”
“Well,” Alf paused, drawing in a deep breath. “My lord, I...I wanted to ask you if...you know your son is betrothed to Lady Ambeal, well...”
“Yes, a betrothal set to unite warring clans, and one that suits us well. What of it?”
Brodgar felt his heart sink into his boots at that. However, his father's eyes were warm, to his amazement; the statement clearly meant to tease.
“My lord, I...” He glanced at Brodgar, his face pale in the firelight, seeking support.
“Father, we would swap.”
“What?” Broderick was incredulous now. He laughed, his face halved with smiling. “What mischief do you two rascals make here, eh?”
“Father, no mischief, I declare,” Brodgar said, feeling himself start to laugh as his father's merry eyes touched his own. Soon they were both laughing.
“I am in earnest, Lord Broderick,” Alf said insistently. “I have...feelings...for that lady.” He inspected his fingers. His cheeks were red. He was shy, suddenly. Brodgar stared.
“That is another matter,” the thane said seriously. “Lads? You do know what I have to say, don't you?”
“I suppose,” Brodgar said, feeling his heart sink. He couldn't really expect his father to agree with their mad scheming, after all. His father was a wise man, and one who always put the interests of the clan uppermost. He would never agree to this.
“Well, what I have to say is, all the best. My blessings are with this. We must just find a way.”
Brodgar stared at him. “Father? Really?” He couldn't actually believe he heard correctly. Had his father really given his blessing? To them? For this?
Broderick smiled, and then sighed. “I can't guarantee that I can do anything,” he said. “This is difficult. You understand,” he said, giving Brodgar a level stare.
“I do.” Brodgar swallowed.
“We didn't mean to make things difficult,” Alf said quickly. Broderick turned the level gaze to him.
“Well, you did,” he said, though the smile with which he said it belied his angry words. “Even so, with the three of us applying our minds to the problem – not to mention your mother, whose problem-solving is unparalleled – we can succeed.” He smiled at Brodgar, then at Alf. “So. You have my word. I can try. No more. That has to suit.”
“It does, Father,” Brodgar said, feeling a lump in his throat. He'd never realized before how deeply his father cared for him. That he would care enough to put his needs before those of the clan. He reached out and squeezed his hand, not knowing how to show how much he appreciated and loved him. “It does.”
Broderick blinked. If his son hadn't known better, he'd have thought the shine in his eyes was tears. Must be a trick of the light, he dismissed it. Broderick MacConnoway wouldn't cry about something like that.
“Lord Thane,” Alf said formally. He looked dazed, as if a rabbit had just hopped out of the fireplace, unscathed by the flames. “I thank you...I can't believe...Thanks,” he said, smiling dazedly.
Broderick laughed. “I assure you, I'm not so heartless. I was young, once, like you both.” He paused, and Brodgar knew he was lost in memories of the past. His mother was Lord Broderick's second wife, the first brutally killed in a raid. He wondered what memories played across his mind.
“We cannot thank you enough,” he said.
Lord Broderick chuckled. “For what it's worth,” he said. “Remember, I don't know what I can do. My inclination is to call MacDonnell here, make some agreement. I might cede the rights to the northern field to him, perhaps. Or some other arrangement. Not that taking my nephew would be so great a hardship that I need to sweeten it,” he added, laughing with Alf. “But we'll see.”
“Thank you, Father,” Brodgar breathed. He felt as dazed as Alf appeared to be. They both looked at each other, relief slumping them in their seats.
“We should go,” Alf said hastily, springing to his feet. “Leave you to your business, my lord.”
“Thank you, Alf,” Broderick said with a grimace. “I don't mind avoiding it. Alec has the most awful handwriting – it hurts my eyes.”
Brodgar chuckled. “I'm sorry, Father,” he said ruefully. “I wish I could help.”
“You can,” Broderick said, grinning and handing him the book, then withdrawing it as his son looked horrified. “Don't worry. You'll have to do it when I'm gone – I'll do it as long as I'm able. Give you respite from it.”
Brodgar smiled at him. “Thanks, Father.”
“Don't mention it. Oh, and, lads?” he said as they walked to the door, pausing to hear him. “If you see Lady Amabel, ask her to step in here a moment? There's something I want to ask her about. And she should know we've got an excess of root crops still. Something the cottagers can have if the winter outlasts their supplies this year.”
“We'll tell her,” Brodgar said earnestly. “As soon as we see her.”
“You do that,” Broderick called. “Goodnight, lads.”
“Goodnight, Father.”
“Goodnight, my lord.”
As they left the study, Brodgar and Alf looked at each other with amazement. It didn't seem possible that it could be as easy as that. However, they had done it. They had asked.
Moreover, he’d agreed.
Later, they went to Alf's room to talk. Alf had a room in the turret, a ladder leading to a loft of sorts. Conn had shared the place, but now he'd left it was the bigger of the two rooms, easier to share. Brodgar leaned against the wall, sighing.
“What can we do?”
“I don't know. I am awed,” he added, pouring a drink for Brodgar, who took the pewter goblet in his fist, looking into the depths of it as if answers floated therein.
“I, too,” he said after a moment, drinking deep. “That was unexpected.”
“You can say that again,” Alf said.
“That was...”
“Oh, hell! You and your tricks! You know what I meant,” Alf said, shooting him a wry look. Brodgar nodded.
“Well,” he said at length, “that leaves us with some plans to make.”
“Quite so,” Alf nodded. “You know...no.”
“Alf, what?” Brodgar asked. His friend was frowning, looking through the window onto the black woodlands.
“I was thinking...no – it's too risky.”
“If you think so,” Brodgar said, setting the drink aside on the table, “it must be the wildest plan I can imagine.”
Alf chuckled. “No. Not really. Just...it could go wrong.”
“What, Alf?”
“We could run away,” Alf said softly. “I mean, if I stole Ambeal, then her father would blame me, not your kin. The feud would end and, if MacDonnell spent the rest of his days with a burning vendetta against me, what matters it?”
“Alf,” Brodgar said, feeling concerned. “No.”
“Why not?” Alf said, his eyes bitter. “I have little to lose. And much to gain. I love her, Brodgar. I know you understand that.”
“I do,” Brodgar nodded. He felt wretched inside.
How could he let Alf risk everything? He would indeed be risking everything. If he left Bronley with Ambeal, there would be no turning back. He couldn't return here. The whole plan hinged on the fact that Dunkeld would keep aloof. He'd run away with her – he'd have to.
He'd lose everything.
“Alf,” Brodgar said slowly. “You know that changes everything, don't you?”
Alf laughed. “Of course it does! But isn't that what we want? I care not, Brodgar! Understand me! All this...” he waved a hand that encompassed the castle, the town, the lands. “It means nothing. I love her. I know,” he said, looking at Brodgar's face. “I know you're thinking: I have known her for four days so how can I? But I do. You do understand.”
Brodgar nodded slowly. He did understand. Understood very well. “I do,” he said. “I loved Henriette the moment I saw her. I know that.”
“Well, then,” Alf said, and there was a smile on his lean, handsome face. “We're all set.”
“Alf!” Brodgar said, incredulous. He laughed.
“What?” Alf said ruefully.
“You are contemplating walking out of your home. Never coming back. And you're so calm about it! You'll never fail to amaze me.” He laughed.
“Well, if you were thinking about Ambeal, you'd be happy too,” Alf said with a smile. “All this – a castle, land, a name...a kingdom, even, if I was set to hold one, would be pearls to cast at her feet.”
Brodgar chuckled. Always effusive and melodramatic, that was typical Alf. Nevertheless, he also knew he meant it. He knew how it felt.
Would I turn my back on everything, for Henriette? Walk away from kin and homestead, never to return, to wed her? Would I?
He imagined it: riding out with her beside him, on his horse, perhaps. Headed to some unknown destination with all they could carry between them and a heart full of hope to guide their steps.
In that moment, he knew he would do it too. He would do it in a heartbeat. All this was nothing compared to having his life with her. He was just lucky it wasn't a choice he'd have to make.
“Alf,” he said, facing him seriously. “Brother in all but name. I can't thank you enough.”
Alf smiled. He took his hand. Looked into his eyes, a grin twisting his mouth lopsided. “My brother in my heart. If it weren't for you, I would never have met Ambeal. I thank you.”
Brodgar smiled. They looked at each other for a long moment, friendship and the love of brother for brother in their eyes. He sighed. “It's crazy, how this turned out,” he admitted. “I mean, the fact that we're essentially swapping brides. Unimaginable.”
“It is,” Alf grinned. “But then, we didn't make the rules. We were only born and found they didn't quite fit.”
Brodgar laughed. “That's true.”
“And there's no harm in adjusting things to suit yourself sometimes. Not since we can do it without a single shot being fired, as it were.”
“Yes,” Brodgar said, and then frowned. There might be no shots fired between his clan and that of Lady Ambeal. However, what of Alf? “My brother, go carefully.” He sighed. “You know that MacDonnell will come after you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. It would be my fault and I'd never forgive myself.”
“I'll let you help me plan it, if you like,” Alf said with the same lopsided grin. “Then we know it'll be safe. Like it always is when you plan things. Remember when we were lads? You always found a way to make things safer; like scaling the orchard wall to steal apricots, or raiding the henhouse.”
Brodgar chuckled, feeling uneasy with the expectation his friend placed on him. “I hope so. I'm not that good at planning.”
“You're better than I am,” Alf grinned. “My idea of safe was choosing the bit of wall that wasn't ten feet high.”
“But not the bit that didn't have a ten foot drop on the other side. I know. I remember.”
They both chuckled at the memory. Brodgar shook his head. It had taken a lot of persuading to make Alf come down and try another approach.
“Well, if you trust me, I'll try and help. I can't think I'll be much good, though.”
“I know so,” Alf said, squeezing his shoulder. “Now. We should plan a bit, and then sleep. We want to be fit if we're going to do this soon.”
“Yes,” Brodgar nodded. He felt his heart clench at the thought of it actually happening.
“Before the gathering,” Alf said. “Safer that way.”
Brodgar nodded. “Within the week would be best,” he agreed.
“Yes,” Alf said.
They sat and talked awhile, but the apprehension was clouding Brodgar's thoughts. At length, they decided to sleep.
Brodgar, alone in his chamber, found his mind filled with Ettie. If Alf ran away, then it left him free to wed her. He imagined their wedding night. To his shame, he felt his loins stir as he thought of her, divested of her gown, her curves bared to firelight and lamplight. He wondered what she looked like under that dress. Built a picture of those high, firm breasts – he imagined the nipples pink – and her fine waist, her long legs, her soft, sweet body.
As he imagined kissing her lips, his own body leveled over hers, thrusting deep into her, he knew that he would die of longing if it didn't happen soon.
All they had to do now was plan, and wait. And hope. Trust. He closed his eyes, smiling as he recalled Alina's words and how carelessly he assumed he'd understood. Well, he was learning. He felt his eyes grow heavy with sleep and wished he could tell the seer he was, slowly, coming to understand.