Ilsa glanced behind her and had to bite back a grin. Odo, Ivy, and Aulay were following her in a tidy line, marching along like proper little soldiers. She still felt a little pang of guilt over leaving Alice behind, even though the little girl had accepted the reasoning that such treks through the woods and hills were not for the wee ones. Ilsa had told her that she had to be five, or as near to it as Aulay was. She suspected that the very day Alice turned five, the child would be demanding her turn.
And she will get it, if I am still here, Ilsa thought and sighed. In the fortnight since Gillyanne and the other MacEnroys had left, little had changed.
Her brothers and Nanty doggedly continued the search for Diarmot's enemy while Diarmot doggedly searched for more ways to keep a distance between them. He was a passionate lover every night and a cold stranger every day. Ilsa was not sure how much more she could endure. Her attempts to win her husband's respect and affection were beginning to feel less like determination and more like self-flagellation. At what point did she cross that fine line between patience and humiliation?
Deciding it was too nice a day to fret over such things, Ilsa stopped to study the rocky hill she ached to climb. It was not high and there was a path of sorts. Her final destination was only part of the way up and she suspected the children could make the journey to the little cave without any real difficulty.
She turned to face the children. Their guard Tom, not much more than a boy himself at seventeen and somewhat thin, had brought the pony up close behind them. Since she had never seen his skill with a sword, Ilsa was not exactly sure how good a protector he would be, but he was good with the children. There had been no sign of danger or trouble of any sort in the month she had been at Clachthrom so Tom was probably guard enough, Ilsa told herself. She shook off her sudden unease and smiled at everyone.
"We are going to climb the hill now," she began.
"Why?" asked Ivy, frowning as she studied the obstacle before them.
"Weel, there is a wee cave up there," she replied and saw the two little boys immediately become intrigued. "All about it and inside are just the sort of stones I am looking for."
"Dinnae ken why we have to tote stones about," muttered Tom. "There is a lot of them at Clachthrom."
"And I am using them," Ilsa said, "but there are nay too many of the sort I want for the paths in the garden. Tis difficult to explain, Tom. Ye would have had to see the gardens I saw. Our priest had the most beautiful gardens. E'en those which held the vegetables and herbs were made to look beautiful."
"Is that the priest who died in--"
"Aye," she hastily interrupted, not wishing him to speak of the priest's undignified and very unpriestly demise in front of the children. "One of the things about his gardens was how orderly they were. Each section clearly set apart from another and beautiful stone pathways winding through the whole place."
"Weel, if ye wish it, then I suspicion tis fine enough." Tom took the small sacks from the back of the pony after tethering the animal to a bush. "Here ye are," he said as he handed each child a sack before giving Ilsa hers. "Dinnae fill them too full or they will be too heavy for ye to carry."
"Up the hill then, my brave ones." Ilsa began to climb the path. "Watch how ye step."
"What if we fall?" asked Ivy.
"Tom is right behind us to catch anyone who stumbles."
"Will there be dragons in the cave?"
"Wheesht, there isnae any such things as dragons," muttered Aulay.
"Are, too," said Ivy. "Odo told me. He says that a dragon makes those noises in the night and that the stink is from its foul breath. And, Odo should know because the dragon always gets verra close to his bed."
Having grown up surrounded by boys of all ages and sizes, Ilsa knew all too well what the noise and the stink was. After quelling the urge to laugh, she glanced back at Odo. There was the hint of a blush upon his cheeks, but he was grinning like the little imp he was. Aulay and Tom were doing a poor job of smothering their laughter. Odo, Ilsa decided, was one of those most dangerous of creatures--a clever little boy. It was a good thing there was not a drop of meanness in him.
"Weel, we shall have to discover why that dragon slips into the nursery so verra often," said Ilsa as she turned her attention back to the path. "Then we can be rid of it."