Mora could not believe she could, but she laughed softly. “Ah, nay, he isnae. He has married a woman who kens how to deal with him verra weel indeed though.”
Hilda nodded. “The English lady. She has spirit. It showed when he brought her here to look at the laird and she said he was being poisoned. No one argued and have done all she told them to. Laird’s better, too.”
“If ye are done gossiping, ladies,” Manus said, “Jonathan is signaling us to go in.”
Mora looked toward the doors to the hall. Jonathan stood there angrily signaling them to come along. She did not know what he had to be angry about. She was the one who faced hanging for lies told by Robert.
“Does he expect me to run over there just to hear the laird condemn me?” she muttered.
“Probably.” Manus started walking and she hurried along with him. “Mon is so proud of his new station and fears any mistake will lose him the post.”
Mora took a deep breath to steady herself as they walked through the doors.
*
Sigimor reined in when the Ogilvy keep came into view. Harcourt and Gybbon reined in on either side of him and Mora’s brothers reined in beside Gybbon. “Sigimor, why are we just staring at the keep?”
“Weel, Gybbon, I think ye have kenned me long enough to ken I dinnae just storm a place. I have to think on it and plot the best approach.”
“I would wager that hurts. Why make your head ache before a battle?” drawled Harcourt.
Harcourt let out a quickly muffled yelp as he suddenly went flying out of the saddle. Gybbon was impressed. He had not seen Sigimor move, yet the small grin on the man’s face as he looked down at Harcourt was proof enough that he had done it. Mora’s brothers chuckled, but softly. Sigimor’s men laughed freely.
“Curse ye, Sigimor. I hate it when ye do that,” muttered Harcourt.
“Then ye should ken when to keep your clever remarks to yourself.”
“Ye must kick a lot of people out of the saddle,” he murmured, “because ye do inspire the remarks.”
“I did find that it had become a habit and I should be more careful when I suddenly saw my wife on the ground once and realized I had kicked her out of the saddle. She wasnae pleased with me. I even got down to help her up and she punched me in the face.” He sounded outraged.
“How did she reach it?” Harcourt asked in a voice that told everyone he was fighting hard not to laugh.
“Slammed her tiny fist right into my eye as I was bending over to lift her up and saying . . .”
“‘Stiffen your wee backbone and grit your tiny teeth,’” the MacFingals called out, then laughed.
Sigimor shook his head. “I often wonder why I have them around so much.”
“They are your kin.”
“I should look more carefully into that claim of relation,” Sigimor muttered, then went back to staring at the keep.
Harcourt rode ahead of Sigimor, out of kicking reach, and said, “They may nay have the red hair, but the relationship is glaringly apparent.”
Gybbon waited with a swiftly dwindling patience as Sigimor studied the place. He was amazed by how calmly Niall and David waited, sitting quietly on their horses as the time slipped by. He suspected they had a much deeper faith in Sigimor than he did.
The gates were wide open and he wondered about that. Only two men stood near them watching, and he was certain they could see Sigimor and his small army. He wondered if the men of Wasterburn no longer cared much for the place they protected. Glancing at Harcourt, he could see his brother staring at those open gates nearly as hard as Sigimor was.
Sigimor finally nodded a little, then looked at Harcourt. “Ye and I and Gybbon are going to ride right in. If we are questioned we will say we have heard of what has happened and have come to speak for the accused.”
“And ye think they will just let us in?” asked Gybbon.
“Aye. We are two neighboring lairds and ye are the brother to one of us. Then there are her brothers, whom someone might recognize. I think those men willnae dare to stand firm before us and will let the laird deal with us.”
“What do we do when we get in there?” asked Harcourt.
“Just what I said, and Nanty will slip in to speak to the ones in the bailey that are our kin or simply have no stomach for what is happening. Slowly the rest of the men will slip in, either because none of these fools are watching or because they just let them do so. The rest of the men will follow directions from Nanty.”
“And when we are all within the bailey?” asked Ciaran MacFingal.
“I want that scaffold the old fool ne’er takes down surrounded. Put one of us behind each mon standing nearest to it. I want Camerons standing behind anyone who is our kin just in case a fight breaks out. I want someone up behind the men at the top so nary a one of them can act as they believe the laird wants before they can be stopped. I want as little blood spilled in this as possible.”
“Why so careful?” asked Gybbon.
“I told ye we are very intertwined. That old fool is pushing his people into standing against friend and family just to protect a son who probably should have been strangled at birth. I want those people who are only doing as they swore to—protect their laird—nay harmed by this idiocy. In truth, I only want one in there to be killed. Robert. He is a poison to what had become a very quiet, peaceful area.”
“If it works, it is a verra clever plan,” said Harcourt, then grinned and shook his head when Sigimor just nodded. “I dinnae want to fight these people either. Alliances such as we have here mean more choices for all our people. A wider selection when a mon wants a bride and for when they need work they like.”
“Aye. Customers for the goods one makes and the crops one grows. If we nurture this we may soon reach the time where we dinnae much need the rest of the world to survive verra nicely.”
“Which would suit ye fine,” said Gybbon. “Ye have ne’er had much use for the rest of the world.”
Sigimor shrugged. “It hasnae done much for me and mine. Nanty?” The young man rode up to Sigimor and then the two had an intense but very quiet talk.
Gybbon watched Nanty ride to the gates and then dismount. It looked as if he was having a pleasant conversation with the two men there. Then they shook hands and Nanty slipped inside the gates. Gybbon knew that if he walked into the bailey right now he could search for a very long time and never see the man. It was the younger man’s gift and Sigimor made good use of it.
Sigimor made good use of every connection he had, blood or marriage or even just friendship, because they had fought on the same side at one time. And that, he realized, was Sigimor’s real strength. He never let the connection fade away, kept it strong and friendly. Gybbon was not even certain of how many connections or alliances the man could claim.
He was diverted from his meager attempt to try and figure out the many connections Sigimor had when he saw several of the men dismount and walk to the keep. “What has happened?”
“Naught. We just saw Nanty signal for the men to start going in. My cousins now watch the gates.” Sigimor turned and ordered the two youngest to gather up and watch the horses.
“Are ye certain the others willnae notice them? Make some outcry?”
“Nay, but I do doubt it. Word has spread of a hanging and a lot of folk round here would walk to the keep just to watch. So, seeing a stranger willnae make them panic. They will be expecting some to come in. Ne’er have understood people thinking a hanging is something ye want to watch, but some do. If word got out that it could be a woman being hanged that would bring even more.”
“Sick bastards,” muttered Ciaran, and Gybbon wondered when the boy had ridden up close to him.
“Sad to say there are a lot of them in this world,” Sigimor said, then watched as Ciaran dismounted, sheathed his sword at his back, and donned a long, flowing cloak. “Ye be careful in there. I dinnae want to have to explain why ye are bleeding to your parents.”
“Aye, neither do I,” Ciaran said, and ambled toward the gates.