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The discussion is of blood, murder and general gore.
And David Sinclair, assistant manager at Borthwick Castle in Scotland, is defending his ancestors.
"It was just second nature to them," he shrugs.
For eight years he has been dispensing some of the most macabre hotel lore you'll ever hear, so I keep my distance. Located in North Middleton, about 20 minutes south of Edinburgh, Borthwick Castle is an unpretentious boutique hotel that catapults you into another era: a time of raucous banquets, lords and ladies and barbaric extracurricular activities.
Built in 1430 as a fortified home for Lord Borthwick, it sits unassumingly in a pastoral setting that almost softens its gruesome history. Let's not pussyfoot around: if you look closely at the exterior of the castle and its four-metre-thick walls (70 per cent of the stonework is original), you will note two square towers. Between them is the chasm known in the days of yore as the "Prisoner's Leap."
Lord Borthwick, exhibiting a playful side, held an annual sporting event for his prisoners: jump across the 31/2-metre gap between the towers. The prize was freedom. Except that the prisoners' hands were tied behind their backs and their legs were adorned with a ball and chain. Oh, and a cluster of spikes below ensured complete, total and utter death.
Nobody ever made it. In fact, hundreds perished this way.
"I suppose there was no television in those days, so it was a form of sadistic entertainment," says Sinclair. (Not a comforting thought, since there is still no television at Borthwick Castle. It's a Grade-A listed heritage building, which prohibits modern touches like satellite dishes).
It seems that little has changed since the days of Lords and leaping. The Great Hall is dim and moody, rich with the complementary aromas of the ever-crackling wood fire and the Angus beef cooking in the adjacent kitchen.
You can see the alcove where Lord Borthwick dined, his back to a stone wall to prevent an unexpected stabbing (now why would anyone want to slay such a gentle soul?).
Furthermore, Mary, Queen of Scots spent her last days of freedom in Borthwick Castle. And it was from this room that Mary, dressed as a pageboy, shimmied out of a window to join her runaway husband.
(Sinclair candidly tells me having Mary for a sleepover isn't a big deal -- she was quite the castle whore. "She stayed everywhere," he says.)
At dinner, which is a £35 (about $63) fixed-price menu, the hostess gazes upon me with that "you're alone, what a shame" look and sits me down with a family of four: the Wanners. It turns out that dad Kirby, mom Francine and kids Emma, 10, and Cole, 8, are from Calgary. Through a happy booking mishap, their reservation at a nearby -- but more touristy -- hotel fell through.
"We're really glad we ended up here. It's the authentic experience," Francine enthuses. Cole, a smiley little chap blessed with superb dimples, tucks into his salmon with gusto. Emma settles on chicken fingers, declaring that she would "rather attempt the jump" than let haggis anywhere near her mouth.
Figuring that if you're going to try haggis, you may as well do so in a castle, I order the traditional dish, complete with neeps (turnips) and tatties (potatoes).
I deliberately avoided googling haggis prior to my arrival -- who needs a reminder that it's organ potpourri? This ignorance serves me well as it's shockingly tasty.
Despite its imposing structure, Borthwick Castle is an intimate hotel. There are just 10 rooms, all of which deliver that castle feel: minimal decoration, stone walls and creepy vibes. The latter is especially applicable if you're in The Red Room (cue music from The Shining) ...
But the third Lord Borthwick got serviced well beyond the routine chamber pot disposal and the maid wound up pregnant. To protect the family fortune, Borthwick sent two guards into The Red Room, where the maid was on duty in the Luggies Cove. They dragged her out and savagely murdered her on the spot. The room got an unexpected scarlet paint job.
Not a place to shy away from terror, Borthwick Castle Hotel took some interior design cues from the brutality: the bedchamber is still as red as it gets.
Of course, the usual compendium of ghost stories started trickling in. So in the 1970s, Borthwick Castle actually hired an exorcist.
Sinclair reports that while the hauntings subsided, a mysterious feminine form appeared on the mantlepiece shortly thereafter, à la Jesus on toast.
"It all plays on your mind a bit," he admits.
There is still a Lord Borthwick. He lives elsewhere, and leases the castle as a business.
"He's a very nice man. Very humble," Sinclair chuckles. Still, Sinclair and his colleagues might want to watch their step: at Borthwick, you never know when there is a 30-metre drop ahead of you.
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Where: About 20 minutes south of Edinburgh, Scotland
Cost: From about $200 to $360 per night, breakfast included
Extras: Free tours of the castle before and after dinner
Contacts: www.borthwickcastle.com or 011-44-1875-820-514