“Someone took the boy out this bolt-hole,” said Gybbon.
“Are ye certain?” Annys said, pulling away from Harcourt enough to look at Gybbon. “I saw what ye did but, although I cannae think of anything else that could have caused such marks, I am nay skilled at reading such signs. And I am nay sure I am thinking too clearly, either.”
“Verra sure. Someone dragged the lad over there”—Gybbon pointed to the small cluster of trees where they had seen the signs of horses having waited in place—“where two riders waited. Then only one person returned here. By the depth of the prints, I believe that person wasnae carrying the boy back. He had to have been given over to the riders.”
Harcourt studied the ground and then signaled to Callum. “Go see if there is a trail for us to follow.” As Callum and Tamhas hurried off to have a look, Harcourt held Annys close again. “We will find the boy.”
“He must be so afraid,” she whispered, fighting the urge to weep and rant.
“He is a sturdy lad.” He glanced down at the drag marks. “He fought hard.”
“Why didnae we hear him calling out then?”
“Tied and gagged.” He tightened his hold when she shuddered. “We will find him, Annys, and if anyone has given the lad e’en a bruise, he is a dead man.” He looked down at her. “Ye must find out who the traitor is. That will be your task. Ours is to find Benet and make certain the ones who took him pay dearly for it.”
“Harcourt,” Callum called as he ran back to them. “Look there.” He pointed back in the direction he had come from. “As far back as ye can look but be quick or ye will miss it.”
A small white shape caught Harcourt’s eye. “Is that Roberta? A sheep cannae track anyone.”
Callum shrugged. “Try to look closer to the ground.”
Harcourt did and cursed in surprise. “’Tis that cat.”
“Roban?” Annys pulled out of his arms and stared hard in the direction all the men were looking. “My cat is following them? Can ye nay use that?”
“Aye, we can, although I willnae swear it will be all that reliable, ’tis worth a try. Be at ease, love.” He gave her a quick kiss. “We will bring Benet home.”
A moment later she was alone. She watched the men until they disappeared from view but could not tear her gaze from where they had last been. A hand touching her arm startled her out of the stupor of blind fear she had fallen into. Annys abruptly turned and nearly knocked Joan to the ground.
“Oh, I am so verra sorry, Joan,” she said, catching the woman by the arms to steady her.
Joan hugged her. “I startled you. Ye have naught to apologize for.” She looked in the direction the men had gone. “Do they have a trail to follow?”
“Aye.” Annys took Joan by the hand and showed her everything she and Gybbon had found. “One of our own took my child and gave him to someone who wants him dead.” She was torn between the aching need to rage and to weep.
“And when we find the one, she will pay dearly,” Joan vowed.
“Ye think it is a woman, too, dinnae ye.”
“Aye.” Joan pointed at the drag marks in the dirt.
“No mon would have dragged the lad along like that. A mon would have just picked him up. Aye, might e’en have just knocked the lad senseless. A woman will oftimes just keep pulling a recalcitrant child along, using her greater strength that way.” Joan looked closer at the footprints. “Smaller feet than a mon would have, too.”
Annys stared at Joan in surprise. “How do ye ken such things?”
Joan shrugged. “I just notice things more than some do. And with all the footprints I have had to help mop up, I just ken some of the differences.”
“I truly need to pay more attention to the world around me. There is one odd thing that has happened that might actually prove helpful. That lamb and my cat were going in the same direction as the ones who took Benet rode in, as if they were tracking him like some pack of dogs.”
“Both can follow a scent verra weel.”
“A sheep can?”
“Aye, a dam can find her lamb e’en in a packed flock. Ye want to find water then put a thirsty sheep in the field and follow it. I suspicion that lamb kens just what our lad smells like. Come back to the keep. We shouldnae be out here unguarded and ye need to eat something.”
“Someone has a key to the bolt-hole. Someone other than me, ye, and Dunnie.”
“And Nicolas,” Joan whispered, stunned by that news. “We need to find out whose key is missing.” She looked down at the keys hanging from Annys’s belt. “Nay yours then. Food and then we hunt down all the keys.”
With a last look in the direction the men had gone, Annys allowed Joan to take her back to the keep.
Harcourt held up his hand and everyone stopped, dismounting when he did. At times he had felt foolish following a lamb and a cat but what signs he had seen along the way had revealed that the men who had taken Benet were indeed riding in this direction. Crouching low, he and his men crept forward until they found the campsite of the men they had been following. The cat was up in a tree close by, lying on a branch overlooking the boy, and the lamb stood at the base of the tree, staring in the direction of Benet.
Rage seized Harcourt when he saw the boy tied up and sitting on the ground. He had to fiercely battle the urge to race into the camp and begin killing every man there. The risk to his son was all that held him back. There were eight men in the camp and only five in Harcourt’s group. Planning was needed. He signaled the others to move back so that they could talk without risk of being overheard only to have the chance to plan anything taken away. Roberta trotted into the camp, bleating, and heading straight for Benet.
All eight men stared at the lamb and then the tallest one grinned. “Seems we will be feasting on lamb tonight, lads.”
“Nay!” screamed Benet, struggling to stand up. “Run, Bertie! Run away!”
Chaos erupted as the men tried to grab the lamb, Benet screaming all the while and trying to wriggle free of his bonds. Harcourt shook his head. He looked at his companions and they just grinned and shrugged. Harcourt thought it over for a moment. The only real cost to waiting for things to settle down and make an attack easier would be the life of the lamb. One look at a frantic, crying Benet told him he could not do it.
“Kill or hobble, but get as many of the fools down as ye can.” He sighed and shook his head. “Dinnae risk yourselves but try to keep that witless animal from being killed.”
They all stood up, drew their swords, and charged. Three men fell quickly due to the shock of the attack. Out of the corner of his eye, as he faced off with the tall man who had wanted Roberta for his meal, Harcourt saw Benet still huddled on the ground but much closer to the trunk of the tree and with the lamb pressed hard up against his chest. He was safe, the fighting going on away from where he was, so Harcourt turned all his attention to the man he was facing.
The man turned out to be skilled with his sword. Harcourt found himself in a true battle for his life. He took a wound to his leg but kept standing as he repaid that with a slash to the man’s sword arm. The man staggered and Harcourt took quick advantage, driving his sword deep into the man’s chest. He fell but, to Harcourt’s surprise, still had enough breath to bellow out an order to the survivors still fighting for their lives.
“Kill that brat!”
Harcourt ignored the pain in his thigh and the feel of the hot blood running down his leg, and raced to reach his son. As he drew near, one of the kidnappers eluded Nicolas, knocked him down, and turned toward Benet, raising his sword to strike at the boy. Harcourt did not think he could make it in time and Nicolas was struggling to his feet, dazed from a hard blow to the head. Just as he bellowed out in pain, fearing he was about to see his child murdered, Harcourt saw a golden ball of fur drop from the tree limb and wrap itself around the attacker’s head, a whirlwind of claws and teeth.
Stumbling to get by Benet’s side, Harcourt watched in amazement as the man screamed and tried to grab
hold of the cat that was tearing his face apart. Nicolas rose to his feet, steady again, and called the cat by name, telling it to get down. It did and Nicolas killed the man, not even waiting to see if he was still able to use a sword.
Benet looked at Harcourt. “They were going to eat Roberta.” He burst into tears.
Making certain it was safe to do so, Harcourt untied the boy and tugged him into his arms. The lamb moved to be by him and rest its head on his unwounded thigh. Harcourt watched Roban sit down and begin to delicately clean its claws and he shook his head. It was going to be impossible to complain about the beast now.
“All dead,” said Callum as he came to crouch by Harcourt and started to bandage his leg wound. “This will take a while to heal.” He glanced at Benet who was watching him. “Are ye hurt, lad?”
“Nay,” Benet said, stroking the lamb’s head. “They were going to kill Roberta.” He glanced at Roban. “I think that made Maman’s cat angry and he tried to rip out that mon’s eyeballs.”
“He certainly put up a good fight but I really think he was saving you.”
“Aye, that too, but I could hear him growling when the men were chasing Roberta around.” He frowned. “Why did ye bring them with you?”
Harcourt laughed even though it hurt. “Och, lad, we didnae bring them. They brought us. They were following you so we followed them.” It was weak but the smile that curved the boy’s mouth eased his concern for Benet.
“Now, we need to get ye back to Glencullaich so that the women can tend that wound with more care than I can,” said Callum. “Can ye ride?”
Gently setting Benet aside, Harcourt rose to stand on his own two feet. The pain was bad but he believed he could get back to the keep without causing too much damage so he nodded. He felt a little pang of regret when Callum took Benet up with him and someone settled the cat in his saddle pack. With a sigh he patted the cat’s head and decided it was better than having to carry the lamb. Nicolas had taken that animal up with him.
By the time they reached the keep, Harcourt was not sure he would remain conscious when he dismounted. Pain and blood loss had made him grow increasingly light-headed. They were swarmed by people when they rode in. Harcourt’s last clear vision was Dunnie walking up, taking one look at the lamb and the cat, and laughing so hard he was clutching his sides. Then Harcourt heard someone yell out in alarm as he slid out of the saddle.
“Maman, is he going to die?”
“Nay, Benet. He just had a lot of pain and lost a lot of blood. He needed to sleep.”
“Why didnae he get off his horse first?”
“Sometimes sleep just reaches out and takes you. Ye have done it a few times.”
“Oh, aye. I have. I wanted to tell him I am sorry.”
Harcourt wanted to tell Benet he had nothing to be sorry for, that it was not his fault. He found it difficult to form the words, however.
“Ye have nothing to feel sorry for, love. Ye did naught wrong. Those men who took ye away from us were the ones who did wrong.”
“But Sir Harcourt got hurt fighting the bad men and he wouldnae have had to do that if I wasnae with them.”
“Ye didnae ask to be with them, love, and that is the important thing. Now, have ye fed Roberta yet?”
“Och, nay. I best go do that now. They wanted to eat her,” he added in an unsteady voice.
“Weel, they didnae understand that she is precious to ye, love. We all do so ye dinnae need to fear that while she is living here.”
Harcourt heard the boy sigh with relief and then run out of the room. “He ne’er walks anywhere.”
Annys was so startled by hearing Harcourt talk she nearly dropped the basin of water she was using to bathe him. The man had lain there like the dead for two days. His friends and family had assured her that he would wake when he was done recovering from the blood loss, that a good long sleep after a wounding was not uncommon amongst the Murrays. She could feel tears stinging her eyes and fought against the urge to weep.
“So, ye have decided to rejoin the world,” she said and watched his eyes slowly open.
“Aye, although my leg is protesting it.”
“It has actually been healing verra nicely while ye snored away the days.”
“How many days?”
“If we dinnae count the part of day that was left after ye fell off your horse, then two days. ’Tis the night of the second. I was told again and again that this was a normal way of healing for a Murray and must say, it did seem to work verra weel.”
He allowed his mind to mull over every ache and pain and said, “I dinnae feel like I hit the ground.”
“Nay, Nicolas moved verra fast and caught ye ere ye finished falling.”
“How is Benet doing? I could hear him saying he thought it was all his fault and ye seem to get him realizing it wasnae. But, he saw a lot of things that could badly trouble a wee lad.”
“What he appears to have latched on to is that those men wanted to kill and eat Roberta and that no one should get Roban angry.”
Harcourt laughed and winced. “The cat was a fury of claws and teeth. Ne’er seen anything like it. One could almost think the fool beastie placed himself in the tree where it did intending to do just what it did if anyone got too close to the boy.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when she bathed the area around the wound on his thigh. It was not pain that caused his sudden tension either, but the fact that she was touching his leg. Even the damp cloth she held between her skin and his did not dim the pleasure of that touch.
“How did someone get the lad out of the bolt-hole?” he asked in an attempt to get his mind off the way her bathing of him made his passion rise.
“Whoever did it stole a key. We are still trying to find out whose key was taken but the search for that got set aside when Benet was returned and ye were brought to bed with a serious wound. Now that ye are awake, we shall deal with that. The bolt-hole is being watched. Callum has found that odd one ye discovered filled in and he looks for more.”
“We will get the traitor now.”
“I hope ye are right. I was so hoping that Benet could tell us who took him but he said they covered his mouth and eyes until he was in the camp. Put a sack o’er his head. He is too young to have noticed anything such as scent or sound, and too scared. So we still dinnae ken exactly who is doing this. It is verra difficult to fight an enemy who lives within your home and kens all your secrets.”
“But ye now ken a few of hers. Ye ken how she is slipping in and out and ye ken that she has stolen a key. Small steps toward discovery but more than we had.”
“And then we can put an end to Sir Adam’s source of information. Next we have the final battle with the fool. And then ye can return to your life at Gormfeurach. So, best ye heal fast and weel as I dinnae want to have to explain a lingering injury to your family. I hear it is verra large.”
He reached out and took her hand in his. “It would be nice if the business with Sir Adam is finished so precisely, but, Annys, mayhap the ending ye speak of doesnae need to happen.”
Annys abruptly stood up. “Nay. Dinnae ye make me any promises. I couldnae bear it to hear them and then watch ye ride away. I watched ye do that once and I ne’er want to do it again. Ye didnae e’en find me to say good-bye.” She cursed at her loss of control and ran out of the room, praying every step of the way that he would forget that short emotional outburst.
Harcourt stared at the door. He wished his head were clearer, not so foggy with the remnants of a long sleep and pain. There was something in that little rant that was important. He was certain of it. Closing his eyes as the need for sleep returned, he struggled to make his mind store those words so that he could examine them later.
Chapter Ten
Annys paused at the door to Harcourt’s bedchamber and carefully looked over what was on the tray she carried. She wondered if it was too much for a man who was still recovering from what had been a serious wound. Then she recalled th
at it was Joan who had laid out the meal and the woman had enough experience in healing to know what she was doing.
The moment she entered the bedchamber, Annys decided Harcourt was healed enough to eat the hearty meal she had brought him. He was sitting up in bed, idly scratching his broad chest, and playing chess with Callum. She returned his smile as she set the tray down on the table next to the bed. It eased her fear for him as well as the guilt she had suffered. He had been injured while helping her to retrieve her son. It was her enemy he had been fighting. It was her call for help that had plunged him into the middle of her mess.
The fact that he made no mention of her little emotional rant on the night he had finally woken up from what he liked to call his healing sleep had made it easy to return to caring for him. She would have hidden away for longer than the day she had if Benet had not demanded she take him in to see the man. Harcourt had given no sign that he even recalled talking to her the first time he had woken up after falling off his horse. That could simply be because he was too polite to do so, but she did not much care about his reasons, only that she was not going to have to be reminded of that loss of control.
“Ah, sustenance,” said Callum. “By the look of what is set out for you, the ladies have deemed ye weel on your way to being healed. No more gruel.” Callum carefully moved the chess set to the table in front of the fireplace. “Am I right to assume the meal has been set out in the great hall?”
“Aye, the platters were being set upon the table as I left the kitchens,” Annys replied.
“Then I shall leave ye for now, Harcourt. M’lady.”
He bowed slightly to Annys before leaving. She could not fully still her curiosity about the man. Sir Callum was so handsome the maids sighed whenever they saw him. Children adored him. He was also faultless in his courtesy and yet he bristled with weapons. The fact that, despite how finely he dressed, the many knives he carried were not much better than what one of the villagers would have puzzled her. It was just another one of those things that kept her curiosity about him sharp.
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