Highland Storms by Christina Courtenay Page A

tallied, he’d made sure of that. Kinross would never know Seton hadn’t recorded even half of the true amounts. Nor that he had the extra money stashed away in a secret hiding place. But how was he to obtain the rest of the sum he needed? Seton had no idea at the moment, but he would think of something. He always did.
    One way or another, he’d deal with the new laird.
     
    Before Brice left Gothenburg, Killian had explained the system of clanship to him, adding, ‘Although I gather it’s mostly been abolished by the English after Culloden, old habits die hard.’
    As far as Brice understood it, a clan chief owned the land and it was rented out to tacksmen, the local term for the main tenants. Most of them were related to the chief, so there was an additional bond between them that made the relationship stronger. They, in turn, allowed others to farm parts of the land they rented. These common labourers performed most of the work and the tacksmen were responsible for paying everyone’s dues to the laird. Then there were skilled craftsmen, like blacksmiths, joiners and weavers. Apart from the people who lived and worked at Rosyth House itself, the rest were congregated in the small township or in smaller settlements in neighbouring valleys.
    ‘ The laird is more like a patriarchal figure than anything else,’ Killian had said. ‘In my grandfather’s time, he’d have expected unswerving obedience and loyalty, but these days I think you’ll have to tread more softly. And don’t forget, until you prove yourself a worthy chief, you’ll be on trial as it were. They don’t have to accept you.’
    Brice had no intention of forgetting this.
    ‘ So the tacksmen will pay me rent?’
    ‘ Yes, but not necessarily in ready money,’ Killian replied. ‘You’re more likely to receive payment in kind – butter, cheese, oatmeal and perhaps the odd calf, sheep or some lengths of home-made linen. If there’s a surplus, you sell it and that’s where the money comes from, just like at Askeberga.’
    Both Brice and Jamie had been taught how to manage the Swedish estate, so he wasn’t unduly worried about taking on Rosyth. The produce might vary slightly, since here cattle rearing seemed the main objective, but the principles were surely the same.
    The most important thing Killian had impressed upon him, however, was that a chief had to be seen to be hospitable. He was therefore determined to show everyone he wasn’t stingy, which was why he’d ordered the feast to be prepared for the evening meal. It would also be a subtle reminder of the lack of hospitality shown him on his previous visit. He was sure he didn’t need to spell it out to those responsible.
    He’d arrived mid-morning, which admittedly didn’t give the housekeeper and cook much time. His request hadn’t seemed to ruffle them, however, so he was sure they’d do their best. What he needed to do now was invite the guests – every member of the clan he could find – and after he’d given orders for the new cattle to be taken to a nearby field, he decided to tackle this task. He wasn’t at all sure they’d come, but he had to try.
    To that end, he made his way down to the stables to retrieve Starke. He could have gone on foot, but he reckoned he could cover a lot more ground by riding. It would also give him the advantage of height, which would come in useful when trying to assert his authority. The Lord knew he needed all the help he could get.
    ‘ Guid mornin’, Mr … I mean, my laird.’ The bright little face of Archie popped up from behind a wattle partition. The stables had seemed deserted so the boy’s appearance startled Brice, but he smiled at him. There was something very appealing about the freckled nose, sparkling eyes and tousled hair.
    ‘ Oh, hello there. Are you playing a game of hide and seek?’
    ‘ No, I was lookin’ after yer horse, like ye told me tae. I’ve fed and watered him. I … I hope that was a’right?’
    Brice