Read The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) for Free Online Page A
Authors: Jonnet Carmichael
room deep beneath the castle.
In the Vault sat the Bard in the middle of a half-circle of five chairs facing the fire. To his right sat Niall and Hector, their heads high, seeing nothing in the fire save the needs of the clan, keeping their minds' focus on their part in helping by whatever way they would each be called to do.
To the Bard's left sat Ruaridh, who had entered the Vault in a decent enough state of mind but had since been disturbed by his wife Mirren's inability to stop talking.
None had been allowed to speak since being fetched here by the Wisewomen. All but one had taken heed of the rule and obeyed the Bard. That same one had yet another complaint.
" And I have an bellyache also. Have ye a remedy to hand for that, at the least?"
The Bard looked to Mirren in warning yet again, and looked away again without reply.
"I said … have ye a remedy for my bellyache?"
This time the Bard looked to Ruaridh.
This time Ruaridh took his wife outside none too gently by the arm, and a minor altercation was heard in the corridor before a pattern of knocks came upon the door.
"Ruaridh MacKrannan and wife – enter," called the Bard.
The couple resumed their seats and silence reigned. But Ru aridh's face was hot with anger. It did not bode well for his part in this Tradition if he could not regain his focus.
The Bard heard a distant humming, and was thankful for it. He put three applewood logs on the fire, passed round the mead he'd held back for the moment, and had just sat back in his chair by the time the humming came close and he heard one of the entrances to the Chamber of the Green Man giving way. The company stirred around him in curiosity though their eyes stayed on the fire.
It was time to tell the clan's history of Fertility Traditions, and what part each would have in this one, and what qualified each of them to be here. But just in case Mirren started up with her nonsense again, he thought it better to rearrange his speeches.
"M IRREN, wife of Ruaridh MacKrannan the son of the Chief of the Name of MacKrannan – I address ye."
Mirren preened in self-importance, oblivious to the Bard's intention to shut her up by giving her the first attention.
"Ye are here only by privilege as the wife of Ruaridh to witness his deed. Ye are forbidden to speak again until the Tradition is complete before the sunrise. This Tradition can be enacted without yer presence. This Tradition will be enacted without yer presence if ye disobey the rules and conventions, and a penalty incurred for yer disturbance."
Her face turned from dropped-jaw outrage to sour attacking mode and finally to the blankness of incredulity when none present, not even her husband, made the slightest change to their own to defend her.
" RUARIDH MACKRANNAN, son of the Chief of the Name of MacKrannan and brother of the chieftain Niall – I address ye. Ye are here to do deed in the Tradition called the 'Remedie For Wyfes Too Talle'."
The Bard was about to explain some things, such as the fundamentals, but decided he'd given quite enough information for the moment and let the silence descend. Oona could do it later.
Ru aridh would have preferred to hear more, such as a vague idea of the deed expected, but was distracted by Mirren's audible seething beside him. They would no' be going to the kirkyard to bond wi' spirits o' the ancestors at all. An active part in this Tradition? That required focus. 'Wives too tall' had to refer to Sorcha. He stared at the fire and closed his mind to his misbehaving wife, searching for the composure he had known after the Wisewomen's cleansing.
" HECTOR MACKRANNAN, carnal son of Lucinda the daughter of the deceased Michiel, once Chief of the Name of MacKrannan – I address ye. By calculation of genealogy, ye are the nearest surviving kinsman of the chieftain Niall beyond his brother Ruaridh. Also, ye do fall within the age range preferred for this Tradition. As such, ye are
In the Vault sat the Bard in the middle of a half-circle of five chairs facing the fire. To his right sat Niall and Hector, their heads high, seeing nothing in the fire save the needs of the clan, keeping their minds' focus on their part in helping by whatever way they would each be called to do.
To the Bard's left sat Ruaridh, who had entered the Vault in a decent enough state of mind but had since been disturbed by his wife Mirren's inability to stop talking.
None had been allowed to speak since being fetched here by the Wisewomen. All but one had taken heed of the rule and obeyed the Bard. That same one had yet another complaint.
" And I have an bellyache also. Have ye a remedy to hand for that, at the least?"
The Bard looked to Mirren in warning yet again, and looked away again without reply.
"I said … have ye a remedy for my bellyache?"
This time the Bard looked to Ruaridh.
This time Ruaridh took his wife outside none too gently by the arm, and a minor altercation was heard in the corridor before a pattern of knocks came upon the door.
"Ruaridh MacKrannan and wife – enter," called the Bard.
The couple resumed their seats and silence reigned. But Ru aridh's face was hot with anger. It did not bode well for his part in this Tradition if he could not regain his focus.
The Bard heard a distant humming, and was thankful for it. He put three applewood logs on the fire, passed round the mead he'd held back for the moment, and had just sat back in his chair by the time the humming came close and he heard one of the entrances to the Chamber of the Green Man giving way. The company stirred around him in curiosity though their eyes stayed on the fire.
It was time to tell the clan's history of Fertility Traditions, and what part each would have in this one, and what qualified each of them to be here. But just in case Mirren started up with her nonsense again, he thought it better to rearrange his speeches.
"M IRREN, wife of Ruaridh MacKrannan the son of the Chief of the Name of MacKrannan – I address ye."
Mirren preened in self-importance, oblivious to the Bard's intention to shut her up by giving her the first attention.
"Ye are here only by privilege as the wife of Ruaridh to witness his deed. Ye are forbidden to speak again until the Tradition is complete before the sunrise. This Tradition can be enacted without yer presence. This Tradition will be enacted without yer presence if ye disobey the rules and conventions, and a penalty incurred for yer disturbance."
Her face turned from dropped-jaw outrage to sour attacking mode and finally to the blankness of incredulity when none present, not even her husband, made the slightest change to their own to defend her.
" RUARIDH MACKRANNAN, son of the Chief of the Name of MacKrannan and brother of the chieftain Niall – I address ye. Ye are here to do deed in the Tradition called the 'Remedie For Wyfes Too Talle'."
The Bard was about to explain some things, such as the fundamentals, but decided he'd given quite enough information for the moment and let the silence descend. Oona could do it later.
Ru aridh would have preferred to hear more, such as a vague idea of the deed expected, but was distracted by Mirren's audible seething beside him. They would no' be going to the kirkyard to bond wi' spirits o' the ancestors at all. An active part in this Tradition? That required focus. 'Wives too tall' had to refer to Sorcha. He stared at the fire and closed his mind to his misbehaving wife, searching for the composure he had known after the Wisewomen's cleansing.
" HECTOR MACKRANNAN, carnal son of Lucinda the daughter of the deceased Michiel, once Chief of the Name of MacKrannan – I address ye. By calculation of genealogy, ye are the nearest surviving kinsman of the chieftain Niall beyond his brother Ruaridh. Also, ye do fall within the age range preferred for this Tradition. As such, ye are
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