“And so he should,” Sigimor said as he walked to the settee and sat down.
Iain looked at Gybbon, his eyes a little wide, and Gybbon just shrugged. “We will have to go hunt down the lad,” he said to Sigimor.
When Sigimor reached for a tart, Morag slapped his hand, then held the tray out to Iain. When he chose one and thanked her she held the tray out to Sigimor. He was watching her with that narrow-eyed look that held a hearty laugh in its depths.
Sigimor pointed at himself. “Laird.”
“Not of this place.” She smiled sweetly as he took a tart and she settled the tray on the table.
“Oh, ye really must meet my wife.”
“Arenae ye afraid I will teach her all manner of naughty things being that I was a leman?”
“Nay, hoping perhaps.” He grinned when both Iain and Gybbon laughed.
“Rogue.”
“I do my best.”
“Weel, if ye are done flirting with our hostess, Sigimor, I think we should try to hunt down the laddie. If he thinks he saw Maggie burn up in the cottage he will be terrified.”
“I was just making certain I gave the lads enough time to put out the last of the fire,” Sigimor said as he stood up. “We will go find the lad now. Ye ken where this safe place is, aye?”
“Do ye want me to go with ye?” said Morag. “The boy kens me as a friend of Maggie’s.”
“That would be good, but then we would have to bring ye back and we need to get him away from here as fast as we can,” said Sigimor. “Ye could help by delaying the sheriff if he and his men come looking. I had the understanding that the boy doesnae tell many about his safe place, but ye can ne’er be sure of that when ’tis only a child.”
“And I will keep a close watch on the fire,” said Iain. “Cannae believe the fools left it smoldering as they did.”
“Thank ye.”
Sigimor strode to the door, the other three men followed, and Gybbon moved to follow them. “Sir Murray?” Morag smiled when he turned to look at her. “When ye see wee Mora again, tell her Morag says hello and to ne’er forget to reach for the fruit that is highest on the tree or vine. It is often the sweetest.”
“Aye, I will tell her,” he said, even as he wondered what she meant.
He nodded a farewell to them both and hurried after Sigimor. All of them were on their mounts and ready, so he quickly mounted Jester and started toward Mora’s home. It was not very far from the town and he got angry when he got there and had to sit tensely, hiding in the trees with the others as they watched the sheriff, his men, and the Ogilvy brothers search all around. He leaned forward on his horse a little as he watched the sheriff argue with Robert, but then they all went to their horses and left.
“Wait a bit,” Sigimor said quietly as they all tensed to move.
“It looked as if the sheriff is getting weary of Robert,” said Gybbon in an equally quiet voice.
“Aye. Fool boy is too arrogant to understand that the sheriff sees his place as one who only answers to the laird and Robert isnae sitting in that chair yet.”
It was several minutes later before Nanty suddenly slipped into their group. Gybbon was annoyed that he had not even realized the younger man was gone. All Nanty did was nod at Sigimor and that was enough to tell the man they could ride to the manor house. Gybbon tried hard to keep the slower pace the other men did until they reached the rear yard. He then dismounted and raced to the old oak that was hollow inside.
Sigimor came to stand beside him. “Why are ye looking at a rotting tree?”
“It is hollow inside and the lad can tuck himself up inside that hollow. Mora said he insisted it was his safe place and they should never tell anyone.”
Sigimor stuck his head inside and looked up into the darkness. “Cannae see a thing but I can hear something,” he said as he backed out.
“What?”
“Breathing. Lad,” he called up the tree, “your sister sent us to collect ye.”
When no one came down, Sigimor stood back a little and frowned. “Mayhap we should have brought Morag.”
“Nay, what I told her still holds. Nay matter how fast we get her back to her cottage, we would be seen. And then we would run the chance of meeting with the Ogilvy brothers or the sheriff and his men.”
“Ah, right. So how do we get the lad out of there? None of us could wriggle up there to bring him down.”
“Weel, she told me a few things to talk to him about that may help.” He went to the tree and looked up. “Mora sent us to get you, lad. She is with us at Laird Sigimor’s place.”
“Is she all right?” a small voice asked.
“Oh, she is good enough but cannae go riding about for a wee bit, so she is abed with her silly cat, Freya.”
“Ye let her take Freya with her?”
“She wouldnae come without the animal, would she?”
“Nay. Maggie is dead. I saw the roof fall on her and it was burning. She was going to take me to her sister’s.”
“I will take ye to the place your mother and father wanted ye to go.”
“My mother and father are dead, too. Robert killed them.”
“And he will pay for that. But they cannae get ye, can they? Ye still have the soldier with the broadsword your da made, aye?”
“Aye. He protects me.”
“We wouldnae mind a wee bit of added protection, too. It will help us care for your sister and ye as was agreed.” He could hear a soft scrambling noise and hoped it was the boy coming down.
Glancing back at Sigimor, he nodded, letting him know they would soon have the boy, and the man went to don his large cloak, which he planned to hide the boy under as they rode. He looked back into the tree and came face to face with a handsomely carved soldier, sword in hand. The small, pale hand holding it out was shaking a little.
“Come on, lad, almost there.”
“Could ye please hold the Bruce for me? I need both hands to finish getting down.”
“The Bruce?” he said as he took the finely made soldier. “Very fine name for him.”
He looked up as the boy dropped to the ground. His clothes were dirty and Gybbon could see a few torn spots, but no wounds were visible. The dirt on his face was well smeared by tears, and Gybbon caught the boy by the hand to pull him outside the tree. Sigimor returned and studied the child, then looked at the wooden soldier. Gybbon almost grinned as the child looked up at Sigimor and his eyes widened.
Sigimor wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist and hefted him up while the wide-eyed Andrew snatched back his soldier and held it in front of him. “Now, lad, while we ride to my home I will have to keep ye covered by my cloak but dinnae be afraid. Ye have the Bruce.”
“Aye. My da gave it to me. Are Mora and Freya really at your house?”
“Och, aye. That cat has even eaten at my table like a wee, furry princess.”
The boy giggled and Gybbon shook his head. Say what one would about the many things that might be wrong with the man, he had a gift of making children feel safe. Andrew did not even protest as he was set up on Sigimor’s large horse, then Sigimor mounted and wrapped his cloak around the boy.
“Sit hard up against me, lad, so there is no part of ye to see, nay even the shape of ye, and we will go to join your sister.”
Chapter Nine
Jolene met them at the door. “Oh, thank God, ye found him,” she said as Sigimor set the boy on his feet and then shed his own cloak.
Andrew pressed himself hard up against Gybbon’s legs and stared up at Jolene. “She is English!”
“Aye, laddie.” Sigimor walked over to stand next to Jolene, who was trying hard to hide her irritation, and he put his arm around her, tugging her close to him. “We noticed that but I wed her anyway.” He grunted when she elbowed him in the side.
“Are the English hunting me, too?”
“Nay, laddie,” said Gybbon, and he ruffled the boy’s curly hair. “As Sigimor said, she is wed to him.”
Then Andrew stepped away from Gybbon and gave Jolene a nice bow. “Thank ye, m’lady, for sending your husband to help me. They told me that Mora is here.”