“Do ye think we can have a bonnie wee garden at our house?”
“That would be lovely, dear heart, but we really dinnae have the room.” Mary idly picked the dead blossoms off the roses. “I do love this, however. Mayhap your da can think of a way for me to have a wee corner for a few flowers.” She sat down on the bench and Annys could almost hear the sigh of relief the woman gave as she got off her feet.
“Did ye have a garden when ye lived with your family?”
“Nay, but there was a lady near to us who did and she would allow me to help her tend the flowers. My da thought it a waste of time and good earth that could have grown some food.”
“Nay, I like it. Do ye think we can come visit this every day?”
“We will go home soon, dear heart. It willnae take your da that long to fix what needs to be fixed. But, mayhap, someday, if we ask verra nicely, Lady Annys will let us come back for a visit.”
Annys watched as the woman suddenly looked in the direction of the gates. She whispered something to her child who smiled widely and they hurried off. The men had returned and Annys suspected Dougal the weaver was amongst them.
Her sense of hopelessness had eased and her battered spirit had strengthened. Mary and Mary Two were the best reasons of all to keep fighting for Glencullaich. They would find no welcome in any garden Sir Adam might have. It was such a small thing but she knew it was almost a sign, something showing her what she had to do and why.
For the sake of the two Marys, mother and daughter, for Master Kenneth who raised a lamb and was doubting he could now kill it although he made his living as a butcher, and even for Old Meg who wept at the loss of her tiny cottage, she made her choice. They were but a few of the many reasons she had to hold fast and fight. A man like Sir Adam would crush such people beneath his boot. Annys was determined not to give the man the chance to do so.
Chapter Eight
Sweat dripped down from his forehead and stung his eyes. Harcourt wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt. He was ready to ride back to the keep. He, Callum, Tamhas, and Gybbon had been riding around the boundaries of Glencullaich since dawn, trying to find any sign of Sir Adam and discovering nothing. It appeared that Sir Adam had directed his attention elsewhere although Harcourt knew that could not be true.
It was not easy but Harcourt beat down a creeping concern for Nathan and Ned. They had been gone for three days and there had been no word. It was not an unusual length of time to spend trying to gather information on an enemy. Harcourt knew that. His concern was born of the fact that spying was dangerous work and he had been the one who had asked the MacFingals to do it.
“They will be fine,” said Gybbon as he rode up beside Harcourt. “MacFingals are hard to kill.”
Harcourt looked at his cousin and frowned. The younger man was neither sweating nor dusty despite the long hours they had all spent in the saddle. His hair was still neatly tied back with a leather thong. That was grossly unfair in Harcourt’s opinion.
“Did ye stop for a bath in the burn and change your clothes?” he asked, not even trying to hide his suspicions.
Gybbon laughed. “Nay. I simply dinnae ride about in a frenzy when I am looking for something. Or someone.”
“I wasnae riding about in a frenzy. Dinnae see the sense in ambling along like an old mon, either. And how did ye ken that I was thinking of the MacFingals? Or can say that they are fine with such confidence?”
“I just ken it. Decided ye were looking for signs of them as hard as ye are looking for signs of Sir Adam.”
“Weel, I sent them out on the hunt, didnae I. It has proven to be a heavier weight than I had kenned it would be.”
“They are MacFingals, Harcourt,” said Gybbon, smiling. “What ye asked of them is what they do with a skill unmatched by any other. They were born kenning how to slip about, hearing secrets, finding lost things, or people, and, of course, stealing.”
“Thought they stopped stealing.”
“Hard to break such a habit. ’Tis nay a way of living for them anymore, though. As Nathan likes to say, at times ye come across someone who simply doesnae deserve to have all he has so ye feel compelled to relieve him of some of it. But, as to them being hale, I just ken it.” He shrugged.
“Ah, ye have a wee gift then. I just ne’er had cause to notice it before now. Runs rampant in the clan, doesnae it. Missed me.”
“Nay, it didnae. Ye just have one that doesnae raise any questions.”
“Gybbon, I dinnae have one.”
“Ye do. Ye can see the patterns of things, look at something and see it as if ’tis drawn up by the finest mapmaker in the land. The defense of Glencullaich looked fine to all of us yet ye could look about and see the smallest of weaknesses.”