Without any encouragement from his men, the crowd cheered once again. Louder and mayhap more genuine than before. Their reaction to his new bride left him feeling proud and hopeful and for the life of him, he couldn’t reason out why.
Now, if only Raibeart and Colyne could be so easily won over.
With Marisse behind them, Black Richard guided his wife to the top of the stairs. Intentionally built so that only one person at a time could traverse in either direction, he paused to figure out the best way to lead Aeschene below.
“Ye can go first. I will follow behind Marisse with the finger loops,” she suggested after a long moment.
“Finger loops?” he asked, wholly confused.
Smiling, she explained it to him. “I ken it sounds silly, but they help me not feel like I’m about to fall.”
While ingenious, he did not want his wife to follow behind anyone. There was something about the thought that left him feeling slightly guilty. “Could ye nae just hold onto me sword belt?” he asked.
“As long as ye dunnae go too fast,” she replied with a smile. “Though I must admit, I could do this all on me own if there was a rail to hang on to.”
Black Richard dismissed the idea almost at once. “I am afraid that will not be possible.” He did not bother to explain the reason why the stairs were narrow nor why there was no rail or banister. ’Twas a purposeful decision made during the reconstruction of the keep. Narrow stairs would make it easier for he and his men to stop any potential invaders.
He turned away before he could see her face burn with embarrassment. A few years ago, she had requested much the same thing to her father, to make her life just a little easier. He adamantly refused. And remind me every day ye are a cripple? Nay.
Her father’s response had hurt. She could only assume her husband thought along similar lines. Black Richard’s response stung just as much as her father’s had and it left her with that all too familiar sensation of feeling less. Less a woman, less a person. Not wanting to embarrass him further, she took a tight hold of his belt and followed behind.
In the gathering room, she could make out the blurry shapes of people. Marisse, ever diligent and close by, whispered, “Lachlan, Rory, and Daniel be here. Ye remember Rory and Daniel? They were with us on our journey here.”
Nodding her understanding, she smiled in their general direction. In truth, she would only be able to recognize them by their voices.
“Good eve,” Richard said to his men. Looking around the room, he asked Lachlan, “Where are Raibeart and Colyne?”
Chuckling, Lachlan replied, “Undoubtedly wreaking havoc on some poor, unsuspecting souls.”
That was not the reply Black Richard wanted to hear. Gently, he guided his wife to sit on the bench nearest his own chair. Marisse sat next to her. The men began to take seats around the table. “Daniel. Would ye please find me brothers for me?”
Daniel’s bottom was about to touch the bench when Black Richard gave his order. With a roll of his eyes and a muttered curse, he stood back up. “Verra well,” he said unhappily.
He took no more than two steps when Raibeart and Colyne came running into the room. Raibeart skidded to a halt, and declared himself victor. “I won!”
Colyne, three years younger, was upset. “Ye cheated!” he declared angrily.
Raibeart laughed at the boy and gave him a gentle shove. “Ye’re just mad.”
Before Black Richard could order them to sit, the two boys were in a full-blown scuffle and falling to the floor. Curses flew like birds from the treetops.
Richard shook his head before shoving himself away from the table. Lachlan followed suit. Soon, Richard was lifting Raibeart to his feet, while Lachlan struggled with Colyne.
“Bloody hell!” Black Richard yelled.
Aeschene jumped in her seat at the sound of her husband’s booming voice, while Marisse tried to explain the situation to her. “Fighting like dogs, they are,” she whispered.
Raibeart fought against Richard’s tight hold. Colyne, seeing his brother duly restricted, wriggled free from Lachlan and lunged at Raibeart, head first. Thankfully, Black Richard saw him in time, and spun out of the way. Colyne was going too fast to stop and ran headfirst into Marisse. She was able to maintain her seat by grabbing his shoulders and pushing him away.
“What the bloody hell was that for?” Colyne cried out angrily when he fell backwards and onto his rump.
“Enough!” Black Richard yelled. “Enough!”
Deadly silence filled the gathering room.
Lachlan picked Colyne up by the collar of his tunic and gave him a shove toward the table. “Ye beastie!” he said. “I am but a few moments from skelpin’ ye!”
“And I ye,” Black Richard whispered into Raibeart’s ear.
Seeing the lads were calming down, Black Richard let Raibeart loose. “I knew ’twas too much to hope for that ye would make a more gentleman like impression on yer new sister-by-law,” he said as he thumped the back of Raibeart’s head.
“She be not my sister-by-law,” Colyne declared. “She be a bloody MacRay.”
Black Richard had reached the ends of his patience. It had been tried too many times this day. In two strides, he was hauling Colyne away from the table by his arm. Once they were far enough away from the table, Black Richard bent low to look the boy in the eyes. “Ye listen to me, ye spoiled heathen, and ye listen well. I will not have ye disrespectin’ my wife, do ye hear me? For I swear if I hear ye speak that way again, I will take a strap to yer backside and ye’ll not be able to sit for a week.”
Colyne’s eyes widened in surprise and horror. Black Richard had never taken that tone with him before. Neither had he ever threatened bodily harm. Although he was young, he was not so foolish as to not believe every word his older brother spoke.
“Do I make myself clear?”
The boy nodded his head rapidly and swallowed down his tears of fright. “Aye, ye do.”
Breathing out through his nostrils, his lips pressed into a hard line, Black Richard righted himself. “Go,” he said, giving him a nudge toward the table. “And sit next to Rory.”
Duly chastised, the boy sulked back to the table and flopped down in the space next to Rory.
Richard retook his seat at the head of the table. “Raibeart? Colyne? I think ye need to apologize to Aeschene and Marisse for actin’ like savages.”
The mouths of each boy fell open. One hard glare from Black Richard stopped any protest before it could be made.
In unison, but without looking directly at the women, each young man mumbled an apology. Black Richard would have none of it. “A wee bit louder and clearer, if ye please. And this time, look at them.”
He knew it angered both boys to be forced to utter an apology they likely didn’t feel but he cared not. For too long they’d been left to their own devices. ’Twas beyond time he took a firmer hand with them.
“I be sorry,” Colyne said, his little forehead scrunched, his eyes filled with nothing short of anger.
Thankfully, Raibeart was a little less menacing. “I be sorry as well.”
Before Aeschene or Marisse could offer any reply, the kitchen maids began bringing in their dinner. A platter of steaming, mouthwatering venison, bowls of roasted vegetables, and a tray of cheeses was set in the center of the table. Trenchers were placed in front of each person. One of the younger lasses, a girl named Alyce, placed an already prepared platter in front of Aeschene.