to be cut and milled from ancient forests. In the west, the stone blocks needed were being quarried and hauled, albeit over roads that had been in place for hundreds of years. The hope was that the stone would arrive at roughly the same time as the timber, even with the extra time needed to cut and shape it.
Macconnach sighed over the thought of the work ahead. It was mundane stuff, the kind of work that made men irritable and quarrelsome with one another. It would be a challenge to keep everyone on even footing. He made a mental note to speak to the general on the notion of setting up a few sporting events.
If the men had boxing, wrestling, and some other events to look forward to, building might proceed more smoothly. Midday came and went, at a singularly plodding pace; the quick march of the sun toward the horizon after that was at its usual welcome speed.
Before long, the tea hour was upon him, and he left his senior non-commissioned staff with their evening charges of taking count of men and arms, and headed to the small palace. Leftenants, brevet captains, and captains lazed about in anticipation of dusk.
Macconnach could sense their itchy desire to produce cards and set to playing. It was most annoying, especially when two of them, Evers, and Arras (a Spaniard who had taken commission with the Crown because his father had been English), accosted him, and tried to engage him in a “friendly” hand or two.
He shrugged them off, in spite of knowing what it might cost him. These sort of men, even more so than their enlisted counterparts, could cultivate and keep grudges for years. Macconnach reminded himself not to reject any of them too frequently; he would need their loyalty in the days and months to come.
That in mind, he turned and told them as he walked, that he had pressing business which needed attending to, but would be sure to partake on some other near occasion. Evers seemed completely pacified by the thought, and went off in hunt of fresh blood.
Arras, however, stayed where he stood, eyeing Macconnach thoughtfully as the major disappeared around a corner toward the general’s private rooms.
ॐ
The Spaniard was older than many of his peers. Family shame had driven him from his mother country, and he’d arrived in the arms of the redcoats with the remnants of his family fortune, his only thought to redeem honor lost.
He was at home amongst other men of decayed noble lineage, only that he had far less means than even they. Because of that, Arras had become a bit cannier, watching every detail of daily lives unfolding around him.
There were other officers around him who would call him a stationary highwayman, and no better than a blackmailer. Captain Arras did not take these criticisms to heart. He knew what he was.
Even more to the point, he knew precisely how much more money it was going to take to repurchase his family’s home and lands. The sole problem he’d run into out in this wasteland was the limited number of men whom he could manipulate.
Unexpectedly, there had been Macconnach arriving like a fatted calf. He was from a wealthy family, Arras knew that. He’d asked around, and the others had been only too happy to supply the information in hopes that they would finally be left alone.
For Arras was a bully of men, an opportunist, a man whose own heart had been steeped in dishonor and unhappiness for too long. He had seen the major only the night before, walking back into the encampment in the small morning hours in the company of the general’s daughter.
He calculated that he might make up the last of his needs within a short time, and retire with a comfortable pension back in his own country, away from these stuffy English.
ॐ
Macconnach made his way to the general’s sitting room, where tea was being laid out. Rather, he thought, the appearance of teatime was being laid out. There was not a silver service anywhere in sight.
Crystal bottles and tumblers sat in its place, surrounded by an overladen plate of cucumber sandwiches, another with mango pickle sandwiches, and the last with small fried clumps ringed by bowls of sauces.
The maid setting the table saw him peering curiously at the last platter. She giggled. He reminded her of her favorite uncle, so she took a chance and told him what everything was.
Her English was excellent, he noted, and she blushed. Miss Alderton had given her lessons, mostly so that she might know what the soldiers were saying to her, or about her.
Looking at the young girl, Macconnach could understand why it might be prudent. She was exactly the kind of beauty that men would fall over themselves for and never give her anything but disgrace in return.
ॐ
“Charu, I did warn you not to let on how well you understand, did I not?” Miss Alderton had walked in to catch the end of the conversation between the major and one of the maids.
She tried to seem amused. In reality, she was quashing a strange pang that had risen from her stomach into her heart. The girl jumped at the sound of her mistress’ voice.
Isabel felt a strange sort of satisfaction as she watched Charu blush. “You cannot be overcareful. All these men will try to charm you; your only defense is in misleading them.” She shooed Charu back to the kitchen and turned to Macconnach. He was observing her critically. Her hackles were immediately raised.
“That was, perhaps, a bit more unkind than needed.”
“To whom? Your species?”
“Miss Alderton, I beg of you not to lump me in with all of what you perceive as the gentlemanly ranks.” He pointed in the direction where Charu had just been standing. “If you wish her to learn, and to listen to you, you ought not embarrass her. You will lose her trust rather quickly that way.”
To her exasperation, she found that he probably had a point. She was just on the point of stalking out of the room when her father entered, Arpan at his side. They were in deep conversation.
Macconnach smiled at Arpan, who had chosen to don his uniform. The array of campaign ribbons was impressive, along with the gold braid that denoted it as dress classification. He bore the rank markings of a full colonel.
Macconnach tried to imagine the reaction of the camp guards on seeing this figure approach. It must have been quite a moment. He caught Arpan’s eye; the other man winked at him, as if he knew exactly what was on the major’s mind.
Isabel rolled her eyes. She knew as well. No matter the part of the world, she sighed to herself, men were all of a kind. Even her father, from time to time, fell into the habit of behaving like an overgrown rooster.
This was the lesson she ought to teach Charu. Men might sit out front, ruling the castle, heedless of the day to day course. Power was truly a subtle thing. She was disgusted with herself for being cruel to the girl, and resolved to go apologize as soon as possible.
For the moment, though, she felt she had to stay. Even with Macconnach and his supposed faculties, she did not trust for a moment that these three men would make a suitable decision without her.
Moreover, it would likely end up being a plan which excluded her. Arpan, Colonel Arpan, that was, made his greetings, and informed them that a search party was being put together to seek out the infant girl.
“The mother has to be kept in the village. She is with child, and since last night,” he rolled his eyes a bit, “the midwife determined that she believes the woman is carrying a boy. Of course, this came a short time after the father’s mother was seen visiting the midwife, so I put little stock into such things. Unfortunately, this family is not directly related to mine, and I have less influence over their choices. It might have been useful to have a mother’s familiar eyes casting about for evidence of her own child.”
He was clearly unhappy. “As one might expect, there was no clear trail. The family has already discussed calling off the search, but I convinced them to let us try for another day or so.”
“Which is where the major comes into the conversation. What say you, Macconnach? You have offered your services, I take it.”
“At your discretion, of course, sir.”
“You have it. Your wor
k is accomplished more easily after sundown, I believe?”
“That is true, yes, sir.” Macconnach looked a bit uneasy. He had never spoken openly of his peculiar skills only twenty four short hours ago, and now, here he was, talking for the second time about it. “Amongst my people, these beings are Aes Sidhe. General, you’ve perhaps heard the legends of the ‘banshee’?”
“I believe so.”
“The Baon Sidhe is just one of the host of beings in that realm. And there are many of them; female spirits who escort souls into death.” He paused, looking around him at the three faces, all attentive, none judging. “The Baon Sidhe have male counterparts. I am one of those number. My dominion is death, either the bringing of it, or the forestalling of it.”
Isabel sat back into a chair with some force. She had not been anticipating the explanation he had just given.
“Major Macconnach, if I might ask, when did you first become aware of your gift?” Arpan was sincere in his inquiry, but something in Macconnach’s face shifted.
A shadow of pain passed, and for a moment, he seemed to be struggling to find his voice. When finally he spoke, a sort of hoarseness subdued his normally forceful tones.
“It was a long time ago. I was a lad. There were plenty of girls in my family who had the gift, but for the boys…it’s so rare as to be unheard of. Nobody knew what might happen. I…summoned…it was a terrible accident. Nobody