Chapter 3

It was winter in the Dunhollow the entire country side was blanketed in snow. Animals tucked in cozy in their barns, the horses in their stables. The village less lively as only the brave ventured out into the cold to purchase what they needed. The courtyard was cleared enough so the men could keep up their training but they couldn't stay out for long before the snow falling became too deep to spar in.

There was much entertainment in the castle. The great hall was overrun by the Stafford grandchildren and the Stafford's themselves. Closer clansmen along with their families, who had cottages nearby, were always welcome in the castle. After the evening meals, some of the older clansmen told old tales of past times, some of romance, some of wars. The musicians played their gitterns as some others sang, a favourite time of the night for the children who enjoyed dancing. After they went to bed, the songs became bawdy tunes of past exploits that usually sent the women to seek their chambers.

Preparations for Christmas had already commenced. A hunt organized and was successful for they had plenty of meat now that was dried and cured for the winter months. Fresh pine scented boughs were placed along the walls and mantle of the fireplace, gave the great hall a warm and cozy scent.

Rhea stepped down into the great hall and looked around at her family. They were all there where she knew they would be. The twins off on their own, probably boasting mostly about their achievements of who could spar the longest, whose arrow could fell the center of the target, which could disarm each other of their weapon's first. Marcel and Lance were never far from the twins, both looking up to their older cousins, wanting to be like them.

The lads, they were all the same in their talk of warfare, it didn't matter what age they were, the talk of swords and battles were always on their minds.

Lucille and Jayleen huddle over by the hearth, whispering and sharing their inner most secrets to each other. The oldest of all the grandchildren they were, and they enjoyed taunting the boys that they were older than them. Grace and Delaney usually sat close by their older sisters to see if any of their secrets could be heard. The two cousins shared their own secrets and bonded closely.

Carter, who was always the odd one out, he was too young for the older lads, so they told him. Marcel and Lance asked him to play with them, but he always refused. The lasses didn't want him around because he was a lad. He was still waiting for Arthur to stop being such a bairn so that he could come and play with him. Carter was always close by to where ever Arthur was and Arthur was always either with his Da or his Mama.

Greta was sitting in one of the chairs by the hearth, chatting happily with Brielle, who was holding the youngest Stafford, Damon who slept peacefully in his Mother's arms. Wee Mallory played quietly by herself, next to her Mother's chair. Joseph, Hector and Oliver sat on the dais most likely discussing clearing the snow early the next morn to get out of the castle for a while. The men were always the most restless. Arthur sat curled up on his father's lap while Carter stood by so that he could chat with Arthur, even though Arthur ignored him.

Rhea quickly went up to the dais to let the brothers know the good news about their father. After telling them about George' progress, the relief in their eyes was what she wanted to see.

"If he's about to bed his wife, then all is well with Da," Hector grinned as he reached over and grabbed his ale. He held it high above the table and watched as his brother's follow suit as they silently saluted their father's heath.

Joseph frowned and looked over at Oliver, "Ye didn't send that missive to Clyde, did ye?"

"Nay," Oliver replied shaking his head. "Twas penned, but I held off as Rhea suggested. Tis good that I dinna send it for it would have caused Clyde and Celeste needless worry now that Da seemed to be recovering well."

All three looked relieved that Oliver held off. Clyde being a two day's hard ride away, in the heart of cold season could have been disastrous if he decided to journey up to the Dunhollow. The snow was high and winter came early this year, causing a flurry of activity to get the provisions needed to pull the castle through the winter months.

"Tis famished I am," Hector whined and then looked to Rhea for an answer. "When is supper ready to be served?"

"Supper?" Rhea replied frowning, placing her hands on her hips. "Ye still have several hours to go, ye must have a hole in your belly."

"Aye, he does," Queenie shouted from across the room. "Tis in the middle of the night Rhea, when he comes down to raid the kitchen looking for anything leftover from supper."

Everyone started to laugh as Rhea stood there thinking about what Queenie just said. "Tis ye then," she pointed to Hector. "Cook says that the kitchen is a mess when she begins her day.

We dinna know who it was."

Hector just grinned and shrugged, he didn't deny that he was the culprit who made a mess of the kitchen. "Still, I'm famished Rhea," he winked at her as his brother broke out laughing at his antics.

"Fine," she huffed out and went to the kitchen to find something for them all to eat while waiting for their supper.

"Ye are a fine lass, a good sister Rhea," Hector shouted at her retreating backside which earned more chuckles from his two brothers.

She came back shortly after, a serving girl behind her carrying a large tray laden with a loaf of dark bread, a chunk of cheese, and dried fruits. Two more jugs of ale were placed in front of the men who happily started to eat.

Grabbing Rhea's hand before she walked passed Hector kissed the top, "My belly thanks ye, Lady Stafford." She laughed and swatted his shoulder before walking down to join the woman by the fire. They had always enjoyed bantering with each other. Hector was always the instigator in annoying his brother's wife, watching her get all riled up amused him and she always took his bait.

A blood curdling scream caught the attention of the entire hall as all eyes were focused on where the scream came from. Joseph stood quickly he knew that voice and watched as Leon tugged hard on Grace's braid as he pulled her onto floor. Of his four children, the twins got along, the twins and Lucille got along, Lucille somewhat got along with her sister, but put Leon alone with Grace, and they were at each other's throats.

"Leon!" Joseph shouted from the other side of the hall and watched as his son stilled and released his sister's braid. "Heed yourself up here!"

Bending low, Leon had another word with his sister before answering his father summons. When he got to the dais, he mimicked his father's stance by crossing his arms over his chest and waited for his tongue lashing.

"What do you say for yourself?" Joseph walked over to him and stood a hair's breadth apart from his heir.

"I willna defend myself, for ye always take her side, Da," Leon raised his voice but the anger on his Da's face, made him lower it before he even finished.

"She is a mere lass, Leon. Your sister, who I have told ye many times that ye should lay your life down for her, Lucille or your Mother. Understand me, and understand me now. Twill be the last time that I see ye lay your hands on her, tis understood?" Joseph's told his son. His voice was low and firm, for he didn't want the entire hall to witness his scolding. Hector and Oliver had already gathered up their two sons, walked away giving them some privacy.

"Da," Leon's voice vibrated strong and steady, "I willna tell her again to stop spreading lies about me."

Joseph sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will speak with her, as will your Mother," he told him and nodded for him to rejoin his brother.