To his irritation, the Sassunach either ignored, or didn't hear, his question. Instead, his most stalwart knight appeared completely engrossed in watching Eilean Creag's craggy old seneschal, Fergus, order about his troupe of servitors as they filed through the crowded hall. Each one shouldered a great platter of some kind of elaborately dressed game bird or a sizable haunch of roasted meat, all prepared with special care for the wedding feast. Perturbed, Duncan reached across the conspicuously empty seat to his left and gave his friend a sharp jab in the ribs. Raising his voice above the ruckus, he tried again, "I said, have you seen her hair?" "Hare?" Marmaduke fixed him with the most innocent look possible considering his disfigurement. " ‘Tis certain Fergus will have ordered a goodly number. If we're lucky, mayhap he's prepared them with his special onion-and-saffron gravy." " ‘Tis her hair I speak of, you conniving fox," Duncan fair roared, not caring if all at the high table and beyond heard him.
