"Only a dozen? I always felt I'd wasted the day if I couldn't drive him up to twenty." He was bragging, of course, but not by much. "Five years of struggle! I kept hoping he'd admit I was unteachable and expel me."
"But he knew you were faking, so he wouldn't. I don't know how you stood it, though."
"I knew how he used to go home and weep — Eric told me. That kept me going — knowing that he wept and I never did. I still sleep facedown, even now, just out of habit."
"When you left school, Pa said you'd won, he hadn't taught you a thing."
That was gratifying! "Oh, he got a few facts into me," Toby said modestly. English, for example — even as a child, he'd known that English mattered, so he had let himself be taught it. That was what the school was for, why the government decreed it. "But I soon managed to forget them. Now look at me! I'm remembering things! I'm learning things! That's not like me! I must be hexed."
"I don't think it's that," Hamish said sleepily. "You never wanted to know what Pa was trying to tell you. Anytime you learned something, you felt you'd failed, right? But what they're telling you here are things you want to know. So when you learn something, you feel you've won. That makes all the difference in the world! I'm interested in almost anything, especially if I can read it in a book — all 'cept family. Anytime Ma tries to teach me her cousinries, I turn stupid. Stupid as Toby Strangerson, she says."
"Really? Is that what they say?" It would be nice to think he still had that reputation in the schoolteacher's household after all these years.
"It's what everyone says. Your ignorance is a byword in the glen, big man! But I think you're just very choosy in what you want to learn. You're not stupid; you only learn what you want to know."
Toby said, "Mmph!" into the pallet. That was a farfetched notion. It would be very odd to think of himself as not stupid. A few moments later, Hamish said something more, but he was too far away to hear…
The next morning the rain had stopped, but a northwester was raising whitecaps on the loch. Sir Malcolm suggested riding lessons. Toby exchanged plaid for trews and jerkin and accompanied him to the stables. By lunchtime, he was clearing five-foot gates.
"Totally fearless," the castellan said.
Toby hadn't the heart to tell him it was just lack of imagination. There were advantages to being stupid.
When he hobbled into the mess hall, he saw Meg sitting at a table with half a dozen of the younger guards buzzing around her like flies at a cowpat. She was smiling tautly up at them: Pretty Will and Iain of Clachan and others. Toby strode over at a moderate gallop and came up behind them. He stumbled into Will, jabbed an elbow in Iain's kidneys, and accidentally trod on Robb Long's toe.
"Sorry," he remarked. "I'm not usually so clumsy."
They took a thoughtful look at his face and made their apologies and went off to another table. He sat down.
"It's good to see you, Meg… What are you glaring like that for?"
"I am not glaring!"
Oh, yes, she was.
Her dress was much simpler than the fantastic court gown he had seen her in before, just plain green wool with pleats and no sleeves. Her hair was back in braids. She was a country lass again — but oh, she was lovely!
While he was out of breath, a great sweaty cart horse. He was also tongue-tied. "I've been worried about you."
"Oh? Well, you knew where I was, didn't you?"
"Yes, but… Well, I have to stay in the barracks."
"There are a thousand pages. You could have written a note if you wanted to speak with me."
"Never thought of it."
"What are you worrying about?"
He was so pleased to see her — why was she looking at him like that? "Just wondering if you were all right."
"All right?" Meg said with a shrill laugh. "All right? Living like a lady in a castle? How could I not be all right? The only thing that isn't all right is that one day I'll have to wake up and be the tanner's daughter again and go back to scraping hides."
"Enjoy it while it lasts!" He was. "Is Rory behaving himself?"
"Oh, that's it? Lord Gregor is a perfect gentleman."
Which was exactly what he was afraid of. She had turned her head away, but he saw a wash of pink on her cheek.
"What's wrong? I mean, if there's something troubling you, I…" I what? He was as much of a prisoner as she was. He couldn't do anything.
"Toby," she whispered, suddenly sounding not at all like Meg Tanner. "He says he loves me!"
"You don't believe him, I hope?"
"No other man has ever told me that."
Oh, zits! He leaned his elbows on the table and put his forehead on his palms so he had to look down and wouldn't stare at her. "Meg," he told his biceps, "dear Meg! I can make a lot of money prizefighting in England. I'll save it all. In a few years — before I get the few brains I've got knocked out of me — I'll come back to Scotland and rent a few acres, and buy a horse and a plow. Then I'll find me a girl, and marry her, and make her very happy. I've never had family. I want people to love: a wife and lots of children. I would be the best husband and father I could be. I'm strong. I could do the work of three men and prosper. And I won't be anyone's man, except my wife's, and I'll always be true to her. But at the moment I can't ask any girl to believe in that dream."
"How many years? Five?"
He looked up. Why were her eyes so shiny? Did she want him to talk of love? He didn't even know what friendship was, let alone love.
"At least," he said. "Maybe ten. Sorry — I'm not the one for the fancy speeches."
"What do you mean by that, Toby Strangerson?"
"I mean he's a glib-tongued rascal. He was brought up at court, and you know what sort of morals they have! You told me he was devious yourself. He's out to trap you. He'll try to… I mean, he'll talk you into… You don't know anything about him!"
She tossed her head, snapping braids like whips. "Yes, I do! I know he's a gentleman, which is more than I know about you. He's a courteous, educated—"
"Oh, is he?" He shouted her down. "And I'm just a big safe lout who's handy to rescue you when some man you're teasing gets violent, but not rich and sweet-talking and able to dress you up in fancy clothes?"
Meg stared at him in utter silence.
"I shouldn't have said that," he muttered.
She stood up. "No, you shouldn't."
"But you know what he'll do, Meg! He'll get what he wants from you and then toss you aside because you're not good enough. That's all he wants, just to… you know."
Meg said, "Oh! Oh, you are a boor, Toby Strangerson. A brainless boor!" Her voice shrilled across the tables.
"Don't take any more bastards back to the glen, Meg!"
"What? How dare you say such things about me?"
"I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did! You called me a loose woman!"
"No, I didn't!" He, too, was yelling at the top of his lungs. They would hear him in Fillan. "Any woman is loose if… I mean can be… you know a man turns her head with words and talks her into… Oh, demons! I promised your Pa I would look after you!"
"That's why you're taking musketry lessons, I suppose? And playing swords all day? You smell like a stable."
"You're crying!"
"No, I'm not!" She spun on her heel and flounced out of the mess.
There were grins everywhere.
He ate without noticing what he was eating.