“David was their uncle,” the man said angrily, and shifted around in his chair.
Sigimor sighed and stood up straight, using his size as an unspoken threat. “And a mon as honorable as any I have met.” He walked up to the sheriff, yanked him and his chair back, reached under the desk, and yanked out a buxom blond Gybbon had once seen in the tavern. “Go on, lass, and I would suggest ye keep as far away from those Ogilvy boys and this mon as ye can until this mess is all over.” He looked back at the sheriff as the girl ran out of the office. “Now, mayhap, we will have your full attention.” He glanced at Gybbon as he walked back to stand beside him. “That was the cause of those sullen looks outside, I am thinking.”
“Aye, he wasnae sharing.” Gybbon was fighting back the urge to laugh heartily.
“Look, the laird . . .” sputtered the sheriff, but he shut up when Sigimor raised his hand.
“The laird is dying. Have ye even looked into why? He gets worse every day. Old William was killed because he accused Robert of poisoning the laird and, surprise, Old William then dies by Robert’s sword. Now, Old William was a tall, burly mon, but the lass, Mora Ogilvy, is near as small as my wife. Ye truly think she could swing a blade that size and kill a man? And what crime have they said the seven-year-old lad is guilty of that warrants trying to kill him? Nay, ye are nay thinking on any of this.”
“I have been thinking on it. Ye look for who gains. ’Tis the lass.”
“’Tis Robert as the firstborn. His da dies, he becomes laird. That family of David’s ends, then that land comes back to the laird.”
“She still has twa brothers.”
“Does she?” asked Gybbon. “They havenae sent any word and nay come home. I suspect David came and spoke to ye of it.” Gybbon nodded when a faint color hit the man’s cheeks. “Didnae help him either, did ye? Come on, Sigimor. There is nay point to this visit.”
“True. I liked David,” Sigimor said in a low, quiet voice that even made Gybbon feel like shivering. “Since ye seem incapable of doing the job, I may start looking for his and his poor wife’s killers myself.”
Gybbon followed Sigimor outside. “Are ye sure threatening the mon was a good idea?”
“He would have talked us to death trying to convince us the lies he was told are fact and then I would have had to kill him. Aye, a nice threat was better for the moment. At the next meeting of the lairds round here I will make my opinion of the fool clear. He is getting a nice sum from us all to bumble around and be bribed by pretty little blonds under the desk.”
Gybbon released the hearty laugh he had held back while with the sheriff. He and Sigimor mounted their horses and slowly rode out of the village. He noticed Morag still by her front door, but she was talking to Iain and another man. It was possible Morag could get people in the village thinking more on what was happening. Gybbon wished her luck if that was what she was trying to do.
“How are the people of Dubheidland doing? Still sick?” he asked.
“Improving slowly. As ye said, ’tis that time of year.”
“Good. It will pass and everyone will be back in fighting shape. But we cannae ask it of them now. My brother’s men are now all trained, weel and hard, and they are eager to practice their skills.”
“Ye think those fools will hunt her down there?”
“Robert is killing his own father with poison, he killed two innocent, well-liked, generous people and one of them his own uncle, and maybe e’en two brothers who had ne’er done him any wrong that we have heard of. So, aye, I think he will see her hunted to the edges of the earth.”
“Ye are probably right. That poor laddie, too.”
“He is just another male heir so, aye, the boy, too.”
“I wonder what the people at the keep are thinking.”
“They probably ken the truth, but what power do they have to do anything about it? The laird is useless yet nay dead and would he e’en listen to accusations against his own sons? Nay, I suspect they are all scurrying about, tending to their chores, and keeping their heads down.”
“I wouldnae mind getting a look at the old mon though, with Jolene. She could tell if it was poison or nay.”
“I am nay sure it would be safe for either of us to go to the keep. We cannae be sure if Robert is there and he would recognize us as the ones who are getting in his way.”
“Mayhap, but I dinnae think he would chance acting against any laird round here when his father is only ill, nay dead. ’Tis hard to judge the mon’s greed, true enough, but ’tis clear to see he has a good idea of what is needed to protect himself.” Sigimor frowned. “He was probably one of those children who delighted in beating down the children of those he considered less important than himself.”
“I doubt ye would get much protest from his brothers as I am growing more certain that this is his idea, his plan. The others go along out of fear.”
Sigimor looked at Gybbon and cocked his head. “Ye think they would just stand by and allow him to be accused?”
“I do, yet cannae say they would do so if he cried out for their help or if they felt sure he would get out of the trap and then come looking for them. I have ne’er seen brothers like them. ’Tis as if he is their lord and master and one who would probably kill them if they disobeyed. Aye, brothers ken which one of them will be the laird when the father is gone, but they still act as equals until it happens.”
“Weel, your family is a strong one. And I suspicion your father would have interfered with a strong hand if one brother tried to rule the others. Seems the old laird may have played favorites and gave Robert too high an opinion of himself, or he was just born mean.” Sigimor reined in in front of his manor. “I think we will go to see this ailing laird and offer my wife’s skills if needed.”
“Are we taking any men with us?” asked Gybbon as he hurried to follow Sigimor.
“Of course. I am a laird. Need some men when I ride about distributing my largesse.” He grinned when Gybbon laughed.
*
Although Jolene was not sure it was a good idea, she gathered up her things for healing, making certain she had what was needed to treat a poisoning, and had her mount readied. Five men rode with them as they traveled to the Ogilvy keep. Sigimor just sighed when they had to go through a careful examination of who they were and what they wanted before the gates were opened.
When they were allowed inside the keep they were met by the head of the guard and the woman who ran the household. Sigimor knew the head of the guard and Gybbon watched in amazement as Jolene charmed the housekeeper so well the two linked arms as they went up to the laird’s chamber. The shock of her being English had not lasted long.
The laird’s room smelled of sickness and approaching death to Gybbon. The man in the bed looked gray and he kept moaning, a low, soft noise that made the housekeeper teary eyed. Jolene patted the woman’s arm and walked closer to the bed.
“What is she doing?” he asked, as Jolene carefully looked at the laird’s hands.
“Checking him for signs of poisoning. I occasionally wonder if I should worry that she kens so much about them.” He exchanged a grin with Gybbon. “There is one that is used so often ye have to wonder why all healers dinnae ken what to look for.”
Jolene then spent a long time talking with the housekeeper, who grew more and more upset. She took the woman to a bench under the window and calmed her, talking quietly and seriously until the woman was nodding her head. The head of the guard walked over to Sigimor.
“Your wife thinks someone is poisoning our laird,” said the guard.
“Then someone probably is. When it comes to healing I ne’er question my wife.”
“Unless she tells you that you have to stay abed,” Jolene said, and went right back to talking with the housekeeper.