Chapter 8 Being Aware Of A New Information

The next day Skye woke up very early due to her worry.

The darkness inside her chamber was starting to break, and she could make out the silhouettes of objects. It was beginning to dawn.

She got off the bed and walked over to the window. Her chamber faced the east, and when she drew aside the curtain, the sun was just beginning to rise, outspreading an orange-red color over the mountain slopes.

Oh! She had to hurry.

She took off her nightgown and put on one of her dresses without wasting valuable time choosing one as she used to do every day.

As soon as she was ready, she hurried out of her chamber, heading to the kitchen. She knew that most of the servants were there at this time early in the morning.

She went down the stairs and saw Maysie carrying fresh water in a wooden bucket.

"My Lady, has something happened? Why did you wake up so early? I'm just now bringing you your morning water," Maysie ran to her and sputtered without taking the appropriate breaths.

Skye gently touched her arm. "Calm down, Maysie. Nothing happened. There is something I need to know, and that's why I woke up so early."

Maysie looked at her and furrowed her brows. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand now. I'll explain to you later. Can you tell me where Tavish and Fergus are?"

"Yes, Fergus is in the kitchen and Tavish has gone out to chop the logs brought in yesterday into smaller pieces for the fireplaces. Preparations for winter have begun."

"Are they okay?" Skye asked her.

"Your question is strange, my Lady. But yes, they both seemed fine to me."

"Okay, Maysie, thank you." Skye said and continued on her way to the kitchen.

As she opened the door and entered, the pungent smell of breakfast and raw meat invaded her nostrils. Skye felt sick in her stomach and held her breath for a moment.

The housekeeper approached her with a stern expression, unsmilingly, and in a cold voice, asked her if she needed anything.

"Yes, I'm looking for Fergus," Skye replied in the same cold tone.

The old housekeeper showed her to the workbench, where Fergus cut a large leg of the ox into smaller pieces and carefully placed them in a large wooden barrel.

It was the supplies of cured meat that they prepared every year at this time for the coming winter. And the winter up there in the Highlands was wild and aggressive. They had to be ready if they wanted to survive.

Skye approached the workbench. Fergus was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed her presence.

"Fergus?" Skye said.

Hearing his name, he raised his head and met her eyes, looking at him with concern.

"Are you okay? Did my uncle carry out his threat to you and Tavish? Has he scourged you?'

Fergus smiled at Skye's concern. "If he had whipped us, my Lady, now I could not be here cutting meat, and neither would Tavish be out chopping wood.

We would be lying on our straw beds, wailing in pain." Her palm hit sharply on her sternum, and her mouth opened slightly only to the thought of it.

She took a deep breath.

Fergus shook his head. "Don't worry my Lady, the answer is no, he didn't punish us. As a matter of fact your uncle left this morning before the sun's rise." Fergus continued to cut the huge leg of beef into strips and lay them in neat rows inside the barrel.

Skye furrowed her brows and tilted her head slightly to the side. "Uncle gone? Alone or with aunt?'

"Take a step back my Lady, I must pour salt into the barrel. And the tiniest grain getting into your eyes will burn you terribly," he told her as he bent down to pick up the bag of coarse salt, and Skye obeyed, taking a step back.

"No, without your aunt, but he took some men with him for escort," he told her as he tipped the bag over the barrel and let the salt flow inside.

"Where is he going?" Skye asked, raising her voice a little to be heard.

Fergus shook his head. "I don't know that. Only your aunt knows," he replied, straightening the bag and stopping the flow of salt in the barrel. He dropped it on the floor and began to cut new strips of meat from the leg.

"I want to check your back," Skye told him suddenly, and Fergus snapped his head up and looked at her with raised eyebrows and open mouth. He firmly shook his head no.

"This is not possible, my lady. It would be inappropriate. I can't".

"That's the only way I'll be convinced you're telling me the truth."

"But I'm telling you the truth. You have to believe me."

"You know something, Fergus?" she lowered her voice. "All these years I've lived here in this castle, I've learned to trust only my eyes.

Although some years have passed, and I was almost a child back then, I remember another instance of a whipping. That time the uncle compelled the servant to return to his duties.

The poor man worked hard until the afternoon when he breathed his last under the sack of potatoes he was carrying." Her voice cracked.

Fergus swallowed hard as he recalled the events. "Yes, I remember. But Tamhas was several years older than me, so maybe that was why he didn't last."

Skye slammed her hand on the workbench. "No one would take such torture, Fergus, no one! Whatever his age was. So stop talking and turn your back to me."

"Okay, okay, my Lady. Please don't yell. They're all looking at us," Fergus said.

"I don't care," Skye pointed and approached Fergus. She lifted his shirt so only his back could be visible to her.

Skye smiled in relief. Fergus told her the truth; he wasn't whipped.

But Fergus' youthful back was not smooth. Skye unconsciously ran her finger over an old wound, probably from some old whipping.

"What about this?" She asked him. "Uncle did that to you? Although I don't remember anything like that."

"No, not Lord Malcolm," Fergus hastened to answer, taking a step away from Skye's hand and pulling down his shirt. "It's from my old master. It's been years since then. Pardon me, my Lady, but I must return to work.' He avoided looking at her, and Skye could tell that her touch had made him uncomfortable.

"I am sorry, Fergus. You can return to your work," she told him, leaving the kitchen.

Skye went back to her room, but Maysie wasn't there. She washed her face and changed her dress because what she was wearing had drawn smells from the kitchen, and her aunt would understand demanding explanations.

She did one last check of herself and went to the dining room. Her aunt was already there.

"Good morning, Aunt," Skye told her and took her seat.

Fiona growled. She was always in a bad mood when Malcolm wasn't near her.

When the servants brought the breakfast, Skye took the opportunity to ask without looking like she already knew.

"Shall we not wait for the uncle?" she asked innocently.

"Malcolm is not here, he left very early in the morning, thanks to you," Fiona snapped.

"What do you mean, thanks to me, aunt? I don't understand".

"If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have had to leave. "Skye stood up from her seat. "What do you mean, aunt? Where did uncle go?"

Fiona turned and looked at her. Her gaze was dark, and Skye felt her breath catch.

"Stop it, enough!" Fiona cried, abruptly rising from her chair and running out of the dining room.

Skye ran after her; she had to find out what the uncle was up to. "Wait, aunt. You have to tell me."

"Leave me alone! I'm not going to tell you anything," Fiona called over her shoulder.

"But you have to tell me," Skye insisted.

"No, I don't, and you are not allowed to speak to me again until Malcolm returns. So leave me alone." she climbed the stairs and ran into her chamber.

Skye had decided that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't get another word from her aunt. So she went to her chamber, ignoring her stomach, which started to growl.

Skye remained engaged in her chamber. Hours passed, and she knew it was noon when she stood at her window and looked out at the sun being at its zenith.

She returned to her bed when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened, and Maysie came in carrying a tray of food.

"I'm not hungry, Maysie," Skye complained as she fell face down on her pillow.

"Don't eat if you don't want to," Maysie said, setting the tray down on a low table. "But get up. You said that you will tell me, have you forgotten?"

Skye looked at her and thought that maybe Maysie knew to tell her about her uncle's absence.

Maysie listened carefully to Skye's story for the next few minutes.

"Oh, that's why you were looking for Tavish and Fergus this morning," she commented.

"Yes, for that."

"And today, your uncle left," Maysie mused aloud.

"Yes," Skye said.

Maysie pursed her lips before speaking. "I think it's pretty obvious that your uncle is off in search of your new prospective groom."

Skye gasped, and her eyes opened wide. "They will never stop trying?" she complained.

Maysie nodded negatively. "I am afraid they will not."

In the afternoon of the same day at Dunrobin Castle

King Cinaed was in the throne room, pacing up and down with his head bowed and his hands tied behind his back.

He sighed every now and then.

At one point, a court official dressed in his elegant clothes entered the room.

"Your Majesty, Lord Lennox has just arrived and wishes to see you."

King Cinaed's eyes shone, and a big smile curved his lips.

"At last! Let him enter immediately."