“This is your work?” Simon demanded as he showed Ide the letter.
“Aye,” she replied and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nay sure why ye are trying so hard to catch them. Ye should be chaining up the real killer.” She scowled at Tormand. “Him and his witch are the ones causing all the trouble.”
“Ye are nay only mean of spirit, ye are a fool.”
Ide looked at Simon in astonishment and then glared at him. “Ye have nay right to speak to me that way. I am just doing what ye ought to be doing, trying to see that the evil visiting our town is banished from it for good.”
Tormand was stunned when Simon grabbed the older woman by the arms and slammed her up against the wall. He did not think he had ever seen the man so furious. For Simon to manhandle a woman, especially an older one, implied that his control was lost or was teetering on a very narrow ledge. Tormand could understand that. With every word the woman had said, Tormand had been fighting the urge to slap her. He noticed that Geordie had just crossed his burly arms over his wide chest and was watching, doing nothing to stop Simon.
“Geordie,” the woman cried as she tried to wriggle free of Simon’s hold.
“Tell him everything, Ide,” said Geordie, “and I would do so honestly and quickly if I were ye. I have never liked ye much, but getting yourself hanged for having a part in these killings will shame my name, and so I will ask that if ye are honest and helpful now, Sir Simon doesnae send ye to the gallows with the others, doesnae tie our name to that filth.”
After a frantic look at all three hard-faced men, Ide began to talk.
Chapter 16
A soft rustle in the low-growing bushes to her right made Morainn’s heart stop and then stutter into such a fast pace that she felt a little breathless. She never should have come outside no matter how much the sunny morning had tempted her. Simon and the others may have said that they would soon have the killers chained and headed for the gallows, or dead, but they could just have been trying to raise her spirits or even their own. They could also just be wrong and had ridden off on yet another fruitless chase. Morainn wondered if she could get to safety fast enough to avoid capture.
When a black and brown dog suddenly appeared and sat down only a foot away from her, she frowned. It was panting and its tail was wagging so fiercely it was clearing the ground beneath it. She started to relax, for the dog was obviously no threat and then she recognized the animal. It was the one Simon used to follow a trail. Had the dog gotten loose from his pen and followed Simon’s scent to her door?
“Bonegnasher?” she said and the dog yipped happily at the sound of his name, one that she had bluntly told Simon was a ridiculous name to give such a friendly dog.
There was another rustle in the bushes, but Morainn did not immediately panic this time. The dog showed no sign of scenting any threat. And, once she had controlled her fears, she had realized that Ada and Small would not be lurking around in the brambles and bushes at the break of day. If nothing else, Small was far too large to hide in such things.
Her first look at the person who did scramble out of the bushes, however, shocked her so much that she could not say a word for a moment, just stare. “Walin,” she finally choked out, her thoughts too chaotic for her to think of anything else to say.
“I had to find ye, Morainn,” the boy said, tugging hard on his dirty shirt until it pulled free of the grasp of the brambles with a soft ripping sound. “They just kept telling me that ye were safe and that I didnae need to worry and that ye would be back soon, but they wouldnae tell me where ye were. I ken ye have to hide from the bad people, but they could have told me where ye were hiding. I wouldnae have told anybody.”
Morainn sighed, releasing the last of her shock. The men had not handled the boy well, but she could not really blame them. They were hunting killers. They undoubtedly thought Walin knew all he needed to know and, afraid of looking too much like the small boy he really was, Walin probably had not bothered them much with his growing worries and fears. She should have taken the time to warn the men that Walin had a deep, abiding fear of losing her, something she had felt would ease as he grew older. The attack that had forced them to leave the cottage, the only home the boy had ever really known, and hearing the woman speaking of how she wanted the witch dead had undoubtedly sharpened that fear. She could not be too sympathetic, however. Walin had done a dangerous thing traveling alone at night and he had to learn that he could not endanger himself so foolishly again.
“How did ye find me?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to look stern. It was not as easy as it should have been because she had sorely missed him and ached to hug him.
“I followed Simon and the others,” he answered, beginning to look guilty and uncertain when he got no smile or hug from Morainn.
“They were on horses, Walin, and I doubt they were traveling at a slow pace. Ye havenae stolen a horse, have ye?”
“Nay. I cannae ride, can I, and they werenae riding verra fast because it was dark and all, but I still lost them. Nay, I took Bonegnasher though. He caught the scent and we followed it here. I kenned the men had stopped here because Bonegnasher did that wee circling thing he does when he is trying to find the new trail. Then I saw ye walking about over here. What are ye looking for? Can I help?”
“Dinnae try to distract me from the scolding ye ken verra weel ye deserve.”
His small shoulders slumped and Morainn did not think she had ever seen a child look so woeful. Walin had become a master of the look at an early age, however. “I just wanted to see ye and they wouldnae let me, wouldnae bring me to visit ye.”
“And did ye nay stop to think that there was a good reason for that? Ye need to be safe, love. I left ye there with all those big, weel-armed men so that ye would be safe. Did ye think I would leave ye for any other reason?”
“Nay. Are ye going to send me back there now?”
Morainn almost smiled. The child really was good at looking so sad one just wanted to take him into one’s arms and soothe away all his hurts and fears until his bright smile returned. If she had not had the raising of him for the past four years she knew she would be doing just that. She also knew it would be a very big mistake. He was probably a little hurt and a little sad, maybe even a little afraid. He was also peeking at her from beneath his ridiculously long lashes to see if she was falling for his little game of poor, poor me.
“I cannae, can I?” she said and pretended she did not see the brief flash of happiness he could not hide. “I must stay here.”
“Then I can stay here with ye?”
“Aye, and ye will sit still for the scolding ye so richly deserve.”
He sighed and followed her into the tower house, the dog trotting along behind him. Walin was shuffling his feet along sounding very much like some condemned man headed for the gallows, but Morainn ignored him. She knew she would not scold him very much. Despite all his plays for her sympathy, Walin knew he had done something very foolish and wrong. She did not need to belabor the matter.
Once inside the tower house, Morainn gently pointed out all Walin had done wrong, all the various ways he had put himself in danger, as she cleaned him up. The dog collapsed on the floor in front of the fireplace and actually began snoring. She then warmed some of the rabbit stew for both the boy and the dog that woke up quickly when she set a bowl of food in front of him. It was nice to have Walin with her, but Morainn did not let him know that. She also made it very clear to him that he would return to Tormand’s house with the other men when they came back and do so without a single complaint.
Her thoughts turned to Tormand and she hoped he was safe. She also hoped the men found the killers as they had thought they would. Part of her did not want this to end because it would mean that she would lose Tormand and she was ashamed of her own selfishness. Ada and Small were vicious, cold-blooded killers. A bruise or two to her heart was nothing compared to the crimes they would continue to commit if they remained free.
“When do ye think the men will come back, Morainn?” asked Walin, as he sat down near the dog that had fallen asleep right after licking the bowl clean.
“I have no idea, love,” she replied. “They may be back soon if all goes weel, but they could be gone for hours yet.”
“Och, weel, I want them to catch those murdering bastards, but I also would like to stay with ye for a nice long visit.”
A little stunned by his language, Morainn had missed the chance to scold him about saying murdering bastards, especially in front of a woman. She decided that Walin was obviously learning a few things from the men that she had rather he did not. For now she would let him mimic his heroes, as she knew all those big, handsome men had become in the boy’s eyes, but when they were home at the cottage once again, there might be a few things she had to make him unlearn.
“If they catch these killers, Walin, then ye and I will be together at the cottage again.” She was a little puzzled that that news did not immediately make the little boy happy. “Dinnae ye want to go home?”
“Och, aye, I do, but I will miss the men. They have been teaching me all sorts of interesting things.”
Like how to curse, she thought. “Oh, dear. Dare I ask what they have been teaching you?”
“All about knives and how to throw them and how to wield my wooden sword like a true warrior and how to ride and care for a horse, although I havenae had much chance to learn to ride as the men are always going out hunting for those people. Simon is teaching me a wee bit about how to solve puzzles, too. He says I am a verra clever lad.”
“That ye are. The most clever lad I have ever kenned e’en when ye do foolish things like ye just did. Do ye like solving puzzles?”
“Aye, but if they think I am clever then why didnae they listen to me?”
“About what?”
“When Sir Simon was getting ready to go after the killers last evening I said I didnae think it was a verra good idea.”
Morainn decided that the men had definitely succeeded in making the little boy feel comfortable as well as safe, or Walin would never have spoken up so boldly. “What did Simon say?”
“He said he couldnae ignore such a clear trail. I was going to tell him that it wasnae verra clear to me and that I kenned something he didnae, but he didnae have time to speak to me again.” Walin frowned. “Or he forgot.”
“What did ye ken that ye think he didnae?”
“That it was all a lie.”
That icy voice Morainn hated spoke from behind her just as Bonegnasher started to growl. The dog was standing now, his head lowered and his body tensed. Morainn wished she had a full pack of Bonegnashers as she slowly turned to face her worst nightmare. She also wished she had remembered to bolt the door.
Ada and Small stood just inside the door, just inside what had been Morainn’s bolt-hole, her shelter. Small towered over the too thin, plain woman as he shielded her back from any possible attack. Morainn realized right then that it had all been a trap, and, worse, Walin had been caught in it alongside her.
The way the woman smiled at her suddenly made Morainn very angry. It was the knowledge that this woman found the idea of killing Morainn amusing, even something to look forward to, that made the rage swell up inside of Morainn. She would like this woman to find out for herself that pain and death were nothing to smile about.
“Who did ye get to help ye set this trap?” she asked, pleased with how calm she sounded. “Simon is no fool and for him to be led astray ye must have gained a verra good ally.”
“Old Ide,” the woman replied, obviously more than willing to boast.
“Simon wouldnae listen to Old Ide about anything.”
“Nay, but he trusts her cousin, and Ide helped us fool Simon into believing a message had come from his old friend and clansmon.”
“Please tell me that ye did what seems to be your custom and killed the bitch.”
The laugh that came out of the woman’s mouth was as cold as her voice. “Nay, we didnae kill her. Nay yet. If Simon discovers what she has done, he may do it for us, although I will be sorry to miss the chance to do it myself. A terrible old woman, full of spite and hate and jealousy. She has no sense of honor.”
And ye do? Morainn asked silently, knowing it would not be wise to say such a thing aloud. Nor did she think she would get any hint of where Simon and the others had been sent, something that could tell her just how good or bad her chances of a timely rescue were. There was only one other thing she was concerned about.
“There is nay need to hurt the boy,” she said.
“I would ne’er hurt a child.”
Morainn did not know how such a cold-blooded killer could look so offended. Did she really think that binding and torturing to death helpless women was honorable? With a man like Small standing at her side, those poor women who had been killed had not had any chance to escape or fight for their lives. She knew the women had been grabbed and made prisoners by the hulking Small, may even have been lured into danger by this plain, coldly smiling woman. Then the woman gave her what could only be called a smirk, even though it held that same cold madness her other smiles had held.
“I especially wouldnae hurt Tormand’s child.”
So deep was Morainn’s shock that she could only stare at the woman for a moment. She fought to regain her senses, knowing she needed to be alert for any chance to escape, or to allow Walin a chance to get away. Staring into the woman’s hard, soul-empty dark eyes, Morainn could see no evidence that the woman was lying, but perhaps it was impossible to tell that when a person was utterly insane. They could even believe the lies they told.
“Ye think that Walin is Tormand’s child?” she asked, imbuing her voice with a hint of amusement. “He would have claimed Walin if he had thought he had a child.”
“Of course he would. The mon can display some honor, though nay much. He didnae ken about the boy. Margaret Macauley was a stupid little whore. I think she believed he would marry her when he found out she carried his child. Sad to say there was no chance that he could be told so that he might believe it or doubt it, for she was sent to a nunnery shortly after she bedded the bastard. Her family realized at last that she had the soul of a whore and sent her to get purified by the power of the church. I was there at the time and she told me all about her great love for Tormand.”
There was a bitter tone to the woman’s voice with a hint of a growing temper. “Why didnae she send word to him?” Morainn asked. “He would have helped.”
“She did send word to him, but all those sweet love letters telling him how she was carrying his child beneath her heart, a heart that beat only for him, ne’er made it to him.”
“Because she trusted ye to see that he got them.”
“Ye are a verra clever lass, arenae ye?” Ada did not look as if she appreciated that. “But, alas, the poor lass died shortly after bearing a son. Bled to death. Happens at a birth, ye ken.”
Especially when aided by an insane woman, Morainn thought. She glanced toward Walin to see him staring at the woman with wide eyes, his little face pale. This had to be hurting him. Walin was a very clever boy and Morainn was sure that he understood everything this woman said, probably understood all she was not saying directly as well. She prayed that he would have the courage to speak to Tormand if Morainn did not escape this trap.
Walin’s parentage was of no consequence at the moment, nor was the sad and tragic fate of his mother. All that she should be thinking of was how to get Walin out of the reach of these two insane people. She could not openly order the boy to run, for Morainn was sure the hulking great Small would catch Walin before he could get away, even if Walin knew how to get out without going to the door. She had not had the time to point out where the bolt-hole was. She was going to have to depend on the cleverness of the boy to figure out when to run and where to go, and Morainn was sure that was a lot to ask of a little boy.
“How did Walin end up at my doorstep then?” Morainn asked, h
onestly curious even if most of her questions were simply intended to keep the woman talking as Morainn tried to think of some way to free Walin.
“Weel, I thought having a bairn would get Tormand to notice me so I took it home with me.” She shrugged, but there was a tightness to the gesture that told Morainn the woman was getting angry just remembering that time. “I didnae like the nunnery anyway. My parents thought the bairn was mine and they were ready to confront Tormand, to make him marry me. Then my father decided that it was best to be sure I wasnae lying and he had a midwife determine my virginity. Of course I hadnae thought of that and my ruse was revealed. They took the baby and gave him to one of the servant women to raise. They then made me marry that fat pig.”
The woman’s temper was rising rapidly and Morainn could almost smell a wildness in the air, the sharp scent of uncontrolled emotion. Morainn wanted to hear the whole sordid tale, but she began to think it might have been unwise to urge the woman to tell the rest of the story. She felt as if she had just prodded a snake.
“Weel, they have all paid. All of them. And that fat pig my father made me marry isnae so verra fat anymore, is he? And the servant woman who took the bairn and ruined my chance to claim Tormand as my own paid too. That is when the lad was brought here. I would have come and gotten him after I rid myself of the traitor who took the bairn away, but I was forced to marry that fat pig.”
Just the way the woman said all of them told Morainn that Ada’s parents had paid dearly for making their child do what she did not wish to do. Ada seemed to be implying that she had also killed the maid, mayhap her own mother and father, and someone who had supposedly betrayed her by bringing Walin to Morainn’s doorstep. Morainn did not know what to do in the presence of such madness. A quick glance at Small told her that, although Ada appeared to be lost in her memories of all the wrongs done her, he was alert and watching her.
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