Tearing his eyes from the doorway, Leith gave his mother a smile, “I willnae let it bother me too much. How…how is Faither? I never even minded to look in on him when I came because I was so taken up with the injured lass? Was he cruel to ye again since I was gone?”
His mother pressed a hand to her veiled head and the lines in her face deepened with heavy grief, “I have nay been inside from the day ye left to find help. I still make his food but I dinnae take it to him. It's Dugald or Finlay who goes in. It pains me heart, son, to ken that we have to keep him locked away behind doors and guards but until help comes, it will have to be that way.”
Reaching over, Leith enveloped his thin mother in his arms. “One day he will be as right back to the man ye kent, mother, and ye ken that I dinnae make empty promises.”
“I do,” she sighed and extracted herself from him. “I’m going to lie down, Leith. If ye need me, I’ll be in me chambers.”
He stood as she left then after rubbing his eyes went over to the sword on the wall. In the pommel, there was a gaping hole that many dismissed at sight but Leith knew that the hole used to have a jewel inside it. A multifaceted sapphire stone that after the last war his father had fought in, had come up lost. The empty space was mirrored in Leith’s soul; the space his father should have in his life was empty.
Turning away, he was able to smile though. Mary was doing well and as long as she continued this way, all would be well.
* * *
“Dratted boy needs to heed to me warning,” Nicolas huffed under his breath as he approached the low-roofed barracks. “Nae everything is a bed of roses like he kens it is. Danger lurks at every turn. The sooner he understands this, the better he will be.”
A dozen men were there sitting on stools as they didn’t dare sit on their perfectly made cots until it was time to retire. The men were dead tired, they had to be after five full days of tracking almost invisible traces of thieves and making sure the Tremont’s cattle were unharmed in the fight.
On the tables were cups of drink and trenchers of nourishing lamb stew that they were in the middle of eating. The wooden floor was spotless and so were the walls. Nicolas knew how hard it was for a troop of men to live under one roof and not have the place look like a pig’s sty as two decades-and-half ago, he had been one of them.
Though he was not the captain nor the commander, he had worked like a slave to get these men past their reckless stages into men of valor and the principles that came with being so.
“Men!” he called up and they scrambled to their feet. “Report, how did the campaign with the Tremont’s end?”
“The reivers were caught, Sir,” a man said. “Samuel stayed behind with the other men to make sure they retrieved all that they could and deliver justice to the thieves.”
“And who was harmed?” Nicolas asked.
A look passed between some of the men but the first shook his head. “Nay one was wounded grievously, Sir. Aye, we suffered a few bumps and bruises and other wounds but nay one is that wounded.”
Looking over the men, all clad in the clan’s colors of dark green and deep purple, he nodded, “All right, I’ll let ye go back to yer meals and have an easy day tomorrow.”
With a final nod, he turned but almost mowed down a page boy who jumped out of his way. “Boy?” he glowered. “What are ye doing here?”
The poor youth was trembling in his shoes but he held out a note to him. “I was told to give ye this, Me Lord.”
With knitted brow, he took the note and waved the boy away. He unfolded it to read. This woman in the castle might be a danger to us, see what ye can find to remove her.
Clenching the unsigned note in his fist, he huffed, “At least someone has sense.”
13
Hushed whispers woke her but Mary pretended to not hear them, nor did she react.
“…where do ye ken she came from?”
“I cannae guess but she looks too fair to be one of ours…unless she’s royalty,” another said.
“Royalty in a tattered dress and a threadbare cloak, I hardly ken so,” a third snorted.
“How would ye—”
“Dinnae ye three have more duties to attend to more than gossiping over the poor lass?” Rinalda’s firm tone cut in. “As I remember, ye should be wiping the windows and replacing the rushes. Leave the lass alone.”
Still, Mary did not move and secretly she began to wonder where this hidden talent had come from. Surely, she had not perfected it as a child. She felt the cot dip as someone sat on the edge, “It’s clear, lass, ye can open yer eyes.”
Or, perhaps her pretending was not as perfect as she had believed. She opened her eyes to see Rinalda looking down at her with amused compassion. “Ye dinnea have to hide from them. They’re more curious than anything else. How are ye feeling? Any pain?”
Mary shook her head and sat up while rubbing lingering sleep from her eyes. Her hand went through her hair, feeling the thickness and the grime that coated almost every strand. Grimacing she rubbed her face too and gave Rinalda a pleading look. She did not know how to sign and ask for a bath.
She began to run her hands over her arms and Rinalda asked, “Are ye cold? I can close the window if—”
Mary shook her head and began a
