THE LAST LAIRD

Chapter 10 - A Premonition

1645

He wasn't sure what he was looking at, it was like peering through a swirling mist. The voices rose and fell, loud and soft, but he thought one was a woman, and the other a man. He concentrated hard to hear what they were saying as he held onto the doorway.

"Where is she?" It was a man's voice, it sounded familiar, but then he knew every man in the castle, so of course it would.

"Do not worry about it, she knows what she is doing," the woman said in a harsh whisper. "Which is more than I can say for you. Look!"

Although he could barely make them out in the dim passageway, William knew they were staring at him. The man swore and it sounded familiar but his fuzzy brain just couldn't place it.

"You said you had taken care of him," the woman scolded. "Yet there he stands, plain as day!"

The man moved closer but his features were still a big white blob.

"Ye can barely stand lad, get yerself back into bed, I'll get someone bring you a drink to help you rest."

No, nothing more to drink, he wanted to say. But no words would come out, just a strange mumbling moan.

"He looks like he has had enough to drink," a third voice had joined them. He knew that one, it was his cousin Malcolm. "I'll take care of him."

He felt the man's arms come around him and usher him back inside his room, then heard the sound of the door closing behind him.

"Come on man, let's see if we can sober you up," Malcolm whispered urgently. "Something is going on, I saw ye only had the one cup of ale and yet ye're clearly drunk, so I'd wager someone added something to it. I wouldn't put it past Margaret's Aunt, she's a witch if ever I saw one."

"What happened?" he croaked, trying to recall what the two people had said in the hallway. "There were two people talking...."

"Aye, that was Uncle Michael, and Margaret's Aunt. I don't trust either of them."

"Why would they want to harm me?"

"I dinna ken even if they do, but let us get you back into bed, tomorrow is an important day!"

William frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"If summat happened to me, Jamie would become Laird."

"And he'd do an excellent job at it, I'm certain."

Raucous laughter drifted up from the Hall. "They're still drinking down there?"

"Aye," Malcolm said. "Will be a wee while yet I'm thinking."

William stood. "I need to see Jamie, make certain he is alright and ready for tomorrow's ceremony."

"He's asleep I'm sure, but I'll check for ye, if ye like. Ye look dead on yer feet, cousin, get to your bed."

"Then could you go back to the Hall and keep an eye on that lot? Ye're right, I need to get some sleep." In truth he wished to speak to Jamie alone, not that he didn't trust his cousin, he just didn't want Malcolm to talk him out of it.

"I will do as you ask, Willie, you will know where to find me should you need me."

William nodded, laying on the bed as Malcolm left the room. As soon as the door closed, he got up again and splashed his face with the cold water before following Malcolm out the door. He stuck his head out first but the hallway was empty.

The torches placed along the passage toward the other bedchambers flickered from the wind that crept in through the cracks in the walls. Here, away from the fireplaces, the air was frigid and he could see his own breath. The noise from the Hall faded as he moved along then turned into another passage that led to Jamie's chamber around the other side of the Hall. Two of the torches had gone out here and he crept slowly in the dark, quickly pressing back against the wall into the deeper shadows when he saw someone approaching from the other end. There were only guest chambers and entrance to the kitchens that way, but it was not a servant who approached but Jamie's soon-to-be wife, Margaret. She looked around, not seeing him in his dark corner, then pulled open the door and entered.