She had to leave.
She’d go back to Inverlochy and try to figure out why she had lain there, unconscious and wounded. There must be some way to convince the steward she wasn’t an enemy. She should examine the underground area where she was found. Maybe there were more clues that would trigger her memory.
Or her imagination.
Her head spinning, Kate rose from the bed and dressed. She made her way down into the kitchen to take something to eat for the road. Ian hadn’t paid her yet, and she didn’t want to see him and explain why she was leaving. So she’d take some food as payment. That should be fair.
She took two loaves of bread, the remnants of the pies from the wake, and a couple of boiled eggs. She filled her water bottle from the well.
Kate looked around the kitchen for the last time. She’d hoped it might become her home, and despite Manning’s growls, she’d been happy here. In a way, she was happier when she didn’t remember those crazy things about the future, her sister and her restaurant.
Should she say goodbye to Cadha and Manning? Or Ian?
She hadn’t seen him since he’d followed her out to the well yesterday morning. He hadn’t asked for lunch or dinner. Had he even come home?
Didn’t matter. Maybe he had a female friend he’d spent the night with. The thought stabbed her in her chest.
No, she shouldn’t think about it. It was his business, not hers. She was no one to him.
But she had to leave some sign that she was all right and hadn’t gotten lost somewhere or drowned in the loch. Not having a pen or paper, she took a handful of flour and sprinkled it over the clean table, then wrote with her finger:
“Thank you. I’m going home. Kate.”
With a heavy heart, Kate walked out of the house. It was very early, and the loch stood still like a mirror in the crisp air of the summer morning. Birds chirped in the trees as she walked towards the woods from which Ian and she had arrived several days ago.
Several blissful days ago.
Kate turned back to look at Dundail for the last time. The sight was so beautiful it took her breath away. The proud house, the tall, square tower with the attached one-story building where the main hall was, looked magnificent against the long loch and the mountains, forest and hills on the other side.
“Goodbye, Ian,” Kate whispered.
She turned around and continued up the hill and into the woods.
She always followed the loch, blue water glistening through the trees to her left. It felt good to walk, and her mind cleared as she breathed air scented with wood and leaves and flowers. She had walked till some time in the afternoon, with a couple of short breaks, when she heard voices.
Her pulse jumped a little, but she told herself there was no need to panic. It was probably just travelers like her. Still, she should mind her business and not attract any attention.
Her head high, her back straight, she walked. The voices grew louder, and she could distinguish the old English tongue that the knight she and Ian had met on the road had spoken. Through the trees, she saw men laughing and talking. The scent of woodsmoke, grilled meat, and stew hung in the air.
She could see them now. Most of them wore only tunics and pants, and armor lay on the ground next to them. Red coats of arms with three yellow lions were on banners and shields. Horses grazed here and there. The garrison was probably having a rest.
Kate’s nape broke out in sweat. They weren’t that far from Dundail. How many were there?
“Whose lands are these?” one of them asked.
“Lord of Dundail’s—one of the Cambels, I reckon…” an older voice said.
“Doesn’t matter whose lands,” a third man broke in. “The instructions of the king and the MacDougalls were clear. We cut through the lands, taking anything we find on the way to Inverlochy. There, we wait hidden for reinforcements and attack.”
“Bruce got too successful in the east,” the man added. “Our king should have done something much sooner.”
“What have you heard?” the first one asked.
“The Lord of Badenoch and all other Comyns were destroyed. With the MacDowells of Galloway gone, and the Earl of Ross having a truce with Bruce, the MacDougalls are the last opposition to Bruce in Scotland.”
“So King Edward has finally come to his senses?” the older one said.
“Yes. Realized that Bruce is coming for the MacDougalls next. If they fall, there’s no one else who’d oppose him. The whole of Scotland will be his. Edward will have a much harder time getting him under control.”
“Right!” the first one said. “Hit him in the back while he thinks he’s safe in the east.”
“Exactly, lad,” the third one said. “Take back Inverlochy, then Urquhart. That’ll bring him back running. And with eight hundred MacDougalls, a hundred of us, and four hundred more coming soon from Carlisle, this time, we have a good chance.”
Kate’s thoughts raced. The MacDougalls had joined with the English. And now this hundred was marching through Ian’s lands up to Inverlochy. Dundail was on their way.
Horror dripped through her veins. There was no question about it. She needed to run back and tell Ian.
Easy does it. Slowly, before they noticed her.
She’d turned back and taken just one step when someone cried, “Hey!”
She turned her head, her feet glued to the ground.
One knight was looking right at her. The same one who had stopped Ian and her on their way to Dundail, she realized with a start.
She ran. Trees and bushes flashed, her heart drumming in her ears. Feet thumped behind her—several of them.
“Stop the Scotswoman!”
A strong arm grabbed her around her waist. She flailed with her arms and legs, but the man held her. She screamed. Then another one appeared before her. He held his sword to her throat.
“Shut up!” he commanded.
The sharp edge biting at her
