"Sweet Mother of God! Nothing you could do?" he bellowed. "Your recklessness has handed the enemy our heirs. My brother-in-law's as well. If they let the children live, the ransom they will ask could ruin us. You managed to save your own precious neck though, didn't you?"
"It all happened so quickly." In an attempt to pacify him, Mary moved closer, saying softly, "I am so sorry, but you can have other children. I can give you children."
He grabbed her by the hair and hissed, "Have no fear, wife, you will an I can stomach seeding you." With an oath he flung her away. "Heed me, if my children are returned, they, and any future ones I may have, will not come into your care. I will choose who cares for them and they will answer only to me."
Lord Foster strove to shake free of his shock. "Are you sure Hilda is with them?"
"We think so, m'lord," replied one of the maids. "Mistress Storm kept the wee ones to the back near the shrubs, and they were gone when the heathens stormed the knoll. Hilda was with us, but when she saw that the children were not she was like a madwoman. She leapt from the cart whilst it was moving and disappeared." The girl began to weep quietly. "Lord, it looked as if she ran straight into the enemy."
"Be gone," roared Lord Eldon, sending the errant ladies scurrying for their quarters. "My God," he groaned as he sat down, "how could I have wed such a woman? If she were not so incapable of thought, I would wonder if this action was planned to rid her of the obstacles 'twixt my estate and any children she and I may have. I hope old Hilda comes to no harm."
Nodding, Lord Foster sat down next to him. "If she and Storm are with the babes, they'll not be so afraid." A smile suddenly broke out on his face. "Now, I wonder what the Scots make of Storm?"
A laugh, weak but true, broke from Lord Eldon. "Sweet Jesus, she no doubt told them in great detail of the many ways she would alter their anatomy." A sadness came and went in his eyes. "She is so very much like her mother. 'Tis glad I am she is but a child and not a woman grown."
Thinking of Storm as a woman grown, Lord Foster shuddered, knowing full well how the girl would be used. "God, yes. Even now a man can see that the lass will be a true beauty."
"I pray they do not harm them. I feel a wretch for I seem more worried for Storm than the others, but there is no denying she is dearer to my heart. Mayhaps 'tis the matter of her birth, that I was there to help her into the world. Ah, then, too, there's that temper of hers, her healing touch, the way she can cut to the heart of a matter, be so adult one minute then so delightfully childlike the next."
"I know. Feel no guilt, my friend, she touches us all. Even I, though she will insist on shaming me by thrashing Robin." He exchanged a weak grin with Lord Eldon. "Come let us decide what we have to meet the ransom demands that must come soon."
They were working hard on that when the MacLagan messenger arrived. Both men ground their teeth as the Scot was ushered in. It was hard not to race up to him, demanding to know the children's fate.
"The children are unharmed?" Lord Eldon demanded before the man had begun to speak.
"Aye, m'lord, as is the nurse, though there was no need o' the woman rushin' at us and demandin' tae be taken tae the bairns. The wee lass with the odd-colored hair was managing. The demands?"
"Aye, aye. Tell us what is asked for." Lord Foster frowned as the messenger related all that was asked for the safe return of all whom they held; although it was not as bad as they had feared, it was steep. "Tell MacLagan he shall have it. We will deliver what he asks on the morrow, an hour after first light."
"We will be left sorely strapped after the morrow," Lord Eldon sighed after the messenger had left.
"For now, but we can call in debts owed us, Eldon, and recoup nicely. Mayhaps, if that fails, we can appeal for a contribution from all our kin as we have oft aided them in the past."
Little rest was found at Hagaleah that night. By the light of torches and a full moon, the ransom was gathered. The tale of how the ladies from the south had placed the children of both castles into the hands of their ancestral enemies spread to the lowliest peasant. Even the townspeople, so often protected by the men of both houses, contributed. What worries were held about how such a loss of goods and money would affect them over the winter if not replaced were not aired. One look at the lords' faces told them that the men had enough on their minds for the moment.
A few knights suggested a rescue attempt, but the idea never took hold. The paying of ransom was custom and, once agreed to, it would not be honorable to do other than peaceably deliver it. There was also the fear of harming the children. It was galling to hand over so much to their enemy, but
