Shadow Music Read Online Free PDF Page A

hadn’t directly spoken to him either time, but MacKenna felt the sting of his words just the same. When matters affecting their adjoining lands were brought forth, the king and the other lairds turned to MacHugh for direction, as though his land and his strength held more importance than MacKenna’s. And always in contention was Finney’s Flat. The valley ran adjacent to both the MacHugh and the MacKenna holdings. The land was fertile with nary a rock in sight, perfect for their sheep to graze and perhaps a bit of barley planting, but neither clan could claim it. It belonged to John, king of England, granted to him years earlier by the king of Scotland as a conciliatory gesture. Each time MacKenna tried to take a piece of the land for himself, MacHugh saw to it that he was pushed back.
    Oh, MacKenna despised this man. With every breath he took, his hatred grew until it threatened to consume him. Not one day passed without at least one dark thought about the laird, and what was most galling for Owen was the knowledge that MacHugh wasted not one minute thinking about any of the MacKennas. They weren’t even important enough to hate.
    Owen recognized this sin of jealousy. Envy was eating him alive, and he felt powerless to do anything about it. He dreamed of destroying MacHugh, and though he wouldn’t dare admit his sin to his confessor, he would gladly sell his soul to the devil to get what he wanted.
    His list of wants was long. He wanted MacHugh’s power. He wanted his allies: the Buchanans, the Maitlands, and the Sinclairs. He wanted his strength and his discipline. He wanted the fear the laird instilled in his enemies; he wanted the loyalty he commanded from his friends. He wanted his lands and everything else MacHugh controlled. Most of all, Owen craved revenge.
    Today was the day he would finally rid himself of his jealousy. Today was the day he would get justice.
    And what a glorious day it was for an execution…or many executions if all went well and a large number of MacHughs were killed. Pity he couldn’t watch, but he had to separate himself from the executioners so that when he was accused of the crime, he could protest his innocence and have holy witnesses at Arbane Abbey to vouch for his presence.
    Owen had carefully thought out the plan and had handpicked the soldier who would oversee the burial.
    “Timing,” he had explained, “is most important. You must wait until you see Laird MacHugh up on the ridge overlooking the flat before you bury his brother. He’ll know who it is, but he won’t be able to stop it. Have no worries. His arrows cannot travel such a distance, and his steed cannot fly. By the time he reaches his fallen brother’s side, it will be too late, and you and your good men, will have gone into hiding.
    “A contingent of soldiers will be waiting to the west behind the line of trees. As soon as MacHugh gets close enough, they’ll circle and attack.”
    He rubbed his hands with malicious glee as he added, “If all goes well, Laird Colm MacHugh and his brother Liam will both be in the ground before nightfall.” The soldier Owen had placed in charge of the burial was a thick-shouldered, thick-headed man named Gordon. Owen had made him repeat his orders to make certain he fully appreciated the importance of timing the burial just right.
    The warriors had little trouble capturing Liam MacHugh. They ambushed him just as he passed through a thick grove of trees. They beat him severely and removed his boots, tied a thick rope around his ankles, and dragged him behind his horse to the deep narrow hole they’d dug in preparation.
    While they nervously waited for MacHugh to reach the ridge and also waited for Liam to regain consciousness so he would know what was going to happen, six of the seven soldiers got into a discussion regarding the burial.
    The discussion turned into an argument. Three soldiers wanted MacHugh’s brother buried headfirst with only his feet above the ground. When his