Somewhere Like Home: An Unhappy Event

“I don’t want to be tacksman.” Robert enunciated every word, his voice rising. “I don’t want your job, bowing obsequiously to the stinking laird and his despicable sons. I won’t do it.”

“Ye will.” Lytton’s voice, steel-edged.

“I won’t. Don’t you see, Da? Soon there won’t be any tacksmen. Year by year, they’re being replaced by factors—and sheep.”

“They’ll no replace all by sheep. Who would they call on to fight their wars?” Lytton said acidly.

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