“Nay by much, I suspect.”
Taking a deep breath, Mora did as he asked. She found it odd to be hugging another man but fascinated by the way it did not affect her at all. If it had been Gybbon she was sure it would have. When Sigimor stopped, she scrambled into the back of the cart as quickly as she could and watched the crate be slid in behind her. She sat next to Andrew and, for once in her life, was very pleased that she was rather small for a grown woman.
A moment later, Gybbon slid his arm in and reached into the crate. That was when Mora realized that was where they had put her bag. She watched with a little smile as Gybbon scratched her cat’s ears before he pulled his arm away. Freya climbed out to sit on Mora’s lap. She doubted Robert would have recognized her bag, but Sigimor had even thought about that possibility. Jolene was right. Her husband was a very careful planner.
“It is like we are in a cave or my safe place,” said Andrew.
“Aye, it is,” she said, and hoped she would not give in to her small fear of such places.
The bright sun shone through the blanket enough to lighten where they were, but it was still a small place to spend three days in. There were enough small gaps in the arrangement to let air in, so they probably would not get too short of fresh air. Nevertheless, Mora knew it was going to be a very long journey.
She idly stroked her cat and wondered what they could do to pass the hours they would be stuck in this place. There was only so much one could talk about to a boy who was barely seven. Mora tried to think of what stories she could recall and was sad to admit she knew very few. She had listened to ones her parents told but had to confess she had made no real effort to recall them later. Looking all around, she noticed the blanket was tied down on the top, but where the ties were there were a few gaps so they might be able to spend a little time just watching what went by.
“What do ye do when ye are up in your safe place by yourself for a while?” she asked Andrew.
“I tell myself stories.”
“I thought of that, but I dinnae recall many.”
“I can tell ye some stories.”
“That would be nice and might pass some time.”
“Niall and David often told me some, although David sometimes smacked Niall on the head because he said that he shouldnae be telling a small boy that.” Andrew heaved a sigh that Mora felt was too big and filled with sadness for a small boy. “They were funny though. I miss Niall and David,” he added softly.
“So do I, Andrew. So do I.”
“It is only ye and me left in our family.”
“I ken it, which is why we must do everything these men tell us to do, even if it means we have to stay in this small place for a few days.”
“Aye. Then when I get big and Gybbon or Sigimor trains me, I can kill cousin Robert.”
Mora nearly wept. He was too young to have thoughts of a bloody revenge. At his age, his thoughts should be of wondrous tales and playing with other boys. Yet, she could think of nothing to say. She wanted that, too, only in her thoughts it was she who would strike the blow.
She leaned back against the pillows Jolene had insisted be put in and tried to think. There was a hard fight ahead as Robert would not give up. The only thing she was sure of was that she did not want anyone else hurt or killed because of her relations.
It was true that she could not fight a battle with a man with fist or weapon, but she had the wit to figure out some way that would make it so Robert had to cease his mad attempt to take all her father had gotten as an inheritance. The laird needed to be told the truth. It would hurt her uncle, but far better his feelings were savaged than men who had no part in this argument got hurt or killed. All she had to decide was the best way to get the truth to her uncle.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. When said, it sounded so simple, so easy, but she knew it was a dangerous thought. Robert could well have allies within his father’s guard. How could she get the truth to him through what could prove a large force of armed men on Robert’s side? It was a trouble that needed a great deal of thought and planning.
Chapter Eleven
Staring up at Gybbon as he lifted the blanket to hand her something to drink, Mora tried to hide the foul mood she was in. He did not deserve anger from her, he was just trying to help her. She just wished that help would have come in a nice open wagon or on a horse and with something to make the time pass. Mora took a long drink of water and handed the water skin to Andrew.
“No pain or return of the fever?” Gybbon asked.
“Nay,” she said, and decided it was not a lie, that she felt warm simply because she had been enclosed inside a blanket-covered cart bed for two days. “Do ye ken, I ne’er went much beyond the village. Yet, the first journey of any distance I take, I do so under a blanket and see naught.”
She decided not to mention all the times she and Andrew had lifted the blanket at the sides and peeked out like children spying on their parents. It had also allowed in more fresh air, which was welcome. The fact that a few times one of the men riding alongside of the cart had waved at them told her Gybbon probably already knew about those peeks.
“I promise to take ye for a good ride once ye are healed and ye can look at all ye want.”
“Any sign of Robert?”
“The MacFingals say he is following us, but he stays far away, and now that we are actually on the land of Gormfeurach, they appear to be slowing down even more. I expect to see some of my brother’s men soon.”
“Ye mean we are getting that close?”
“Weel, ’tis still a few hours but, aye, we are close.”
“Good. Have ye seen Freya?” she asked, worried because her pet had leapt out of the cart the last time they had stopped and had not returned.
“She is sitting up on the seat between two MacFingals. Jumped up there the last time we stopped.”
“But Robert will surely recognize her.”
“By the time he gets close enough to even see her there, he is close enough for us to see and reach. They have already checked on that. She will be fine. I am nay so certain Nanty will be though, if he doesnae stop teasing them about how they talk to her.”
Mora laughed. “She must be enjoying herself, although she is rude to go out there when we cannae.”
“I am nay sure she kens a way back in.”
“Oh. Nay, I suppose she doesnae.”
“I could grab her and hand her in.”
“Nay, she is outside and surrounded by people. I willnae deprive her of that just because I feel comforted when I can pet her. She will let ye ken somehow when she wants back in here.”
“Keep the water skin then, and the journey is almost over. Ye have been a verra good lad, Andrew.”
“Thank ye. I have to be sure to stay alive for Mora,” he said.
“Aye, that ye do.”
Gybbon saw a sadness cross Mora’s face, but then she smiled at the boy and gave him a brief hug. Gybbon tugged the blanket back in place and rode up beside the MacFingals, the cat sitting up happily between them. Andrew was carrying too much worry and sorrow for a young boy, but he could think of nothing that would ease it save, perhaps, the return of the brothers lost to France and an end to Robert. Gybbon promised himself that he would do what he could to find out what had happened to their brothers. His family had connections in France and it might be time to make use of them.
“Who comes this way now?” asked Ciaran as he shifted forward on the cart seat so Freya could tuck herself behind him.
Looking at the group of men riding out of the trees far ahead of them, Gybbon laughed briefly. “Some of my brother’s men.”
“How can ye tell?”
“I am fair sure that is Nicolas at the fore.” He raised his hand in greeting and the man he thought was Nicolas waved back. “Aye, it is.”
“Can we now let the lass and the boy out of their cage?”
“Nay just yet. I am sure they are my brother’s men, but even if they are not, they show no inclination for battle.”
“Shall I just sit here then or move forward?”