Page 36 of Highland Spy

Bridget’s back was to the king, and her father sat across from her, but faced the king. He looked up, seeming confused.

“Da,” whispered Bridget. “Say somethin’ to the king.”

“Ye’re an ass,” her father called out, with a crazed look in his eyes. He obviously had no idea of what he was saying or whom he was saying it to.

Logan was drinking, and spit the ale across the table when he heard her father’s words.

“What’s that? I canna hear ye,” called out the king. Thankfully, the room was too noisy and the king hadn’t heard her father. Brigham opened his mouth, meaning to call the king an ass again, but Bridget grabbed his hand and stared menacingly into his eyes.

“Dinna say another word,” she warned her father. Then she stood up, stepping over the bench, and made a grand show of curtsying to the king.

“Yer Majesty,” she said. “My faither has a frog in his throat today, so I’ll repeat his words. He said, ‘I’m glad ye asked. And I assure ye that the Highland Chronicles are bein’ filled with many amazin’ and interestin’ stories for ye’.”

“Ah, thank ye, Bridget,” he said with a satisfied nod. “I hope yer faither’s throat gets better.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will . . . in a matter of time,” she told him. “He’s been afflicted with a temporary bout of . . . seasonal symptoms. This happens to him every summer when the flowers are in bloom.”

“Egads, I hope it isna contagious.”

“I’m sure it’s no’,” she assured him.

“Just the same, I need him well to record the events of the competition. Brigham, go back to yer room and rest until the games begin.”

“But Yer Majesty –” she started to protest.

“That’s an order,” commanded the king. “Bridget, ye’ll go with him and make sure he gets what he needs.”

“Of course, Sire,” she said with a curtsy.

She was about to leave when the king stopped her. “Wait,” he called out.

“Yer Majesty?” she asked, not knowing what he wanted.

“Leave the book.”

“The . . . book?” Her heart sped up, drumming in her ears. She didn’t expect him to say this.

“The Highland Chronicles,” said the king. “I want to read what yer faither’s been recordin’ for the past few months.”

“Wouldna ye like me to read it to ye while ye eat?” she asked, always being the one to read from the chronicles in the past.

“Nay, there’s no need for that.” He put out his hand and snapped his fingers. “Page, get the book from the chronicler’s daughter and bring it to me, anon.”

“Aye, Yer Majesty,” said the boy, running over to Bridget and holding out his hands.

Bridget didn’t like the idea of leaving the book with the king. Not yet. She hadn’t had time yet to rip out the page with the nasty things written about Caleb. She only prayed King Robert would read the good things she wrote about Caleb instead.

She handed the book over to the page and was about to leave the table with her father when Caleb hurried into the room, taking the seat that she had just vacated.

“Where have ye been?” growled Logan under his breath.

“I decided to just bring Slink along so he wouldna get frightened if the other lairds were in our room.” His pine marten poked its head out of the bag he carried. “Bridget, where are ye goin’?” asked Caleb, looking disappointed that she was leaving so soon.

“The king ordered her to take her faither to their chamber to rest,” Logan answered for her.

“Caleb, the king has the Highland Chronicles,” said Bridget nervously.

Caleb looked over his shoulder, seeing the king open the book and flip through a few of the pages. “Aye, so he does. Guid.”