“Nay, he was just doing what he was told as a loyal second should.”
“So ye were both obeying Sir Adam MacQueen then.”
“I didnae say that!”
“Your lover used you, made ye the knife he was too cowardly to use himself.”
“Clyde is no coward,” Biddy snapped.
“Clyde?” Geordie said. “Ye were Clyde’s wee whore? Wheesht, ye are a witless lass, arenae ye?”
“He was going to marry me!”
“Och, aye? Ye believed that?”
Even Harcourt felt like wincing at the sharp scorn in Geordie’s voice. “Ye ken Clyde weel, do ye?” he asked the man.
“Nay, just another of his hirelings. Although I suspicion he didnae pay ye much,” Geordie said to Biddy. “He ne’er pays the lassies he uses. Weel, nay in coin. ’Tis rumored he has paid a few with cold steel though when they thought he had made promises he wasnae keeping and made too much noise about it.” He looked around the cells. “Ye best be careful. He might consider this making too much noise.”
“Clyde is going to marry me and when Sir Adam gains this place, Clyde will be his second. Then I will be a lady.”
Geordie hooted with laughter and Harcourt watched Biddy blush. Not from shame or embarrassment, however, but with a growing fury. Geordie was, in his strange way, doing better at getting information out of Biddy than he had been. He had also stopped her crying, replacing fear with anger.
“I shall tell Clyde about you,” she hissed.
“Oh, I be so scared. What is he going to do? Toss me in a cell? Hang me? Missed his chance there.”
Biddy looked at Harcourt and he realized Geordie had become the new target for her anger. Anger was good. Anger made people say things they would not under other circumstances. It made them lose their guard over their tongue. It was almost as good as pouring ale down a prisoner’s throat until he was too sotted to care what he told the one asking questions.
“What is there for me here? Cooking for people who dinnae e’en notice me. Clyde was going to get me out of the kitchen.”
“And right into a grave,” muttered Geordie.
“Shut up!”
Biddy glared at the man but Harcourt could see the glint of fear in her eyes. He could not be certain if it was because she knew she had lost what she sought or if she feared Geordie was right. Her confidence in Clyde’s promises might not be as strong as she wanted them to believe. Shaking his head, he decided he actually had enough information to hang her but he wanted something else. He wanted information on Sir Adam.
“How did ye come and go to your trysts with no one kenning when and where ye went?” Harcourt asked.
“The bolt-hole.”
“That is locked.”
“The one they made for us peasants, aye. But I got a lock maker to make me a new key. I also looked about for other places where I could come and go but ye have already found most of those.”
“It will make it easier if ye tell me where they all are.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Did your lover promise to nay hurt your sisters when he and his men sneak in here to slaughter us?” Her look of unease gave him his answer. “Where are the bolt-holes ye used, the ones aside from the two your laird made?”
Biddy hesitated and then reluctantly told him. As Harcourt left, he had the feeling she may have kept one secret. Since she would have done that for her own purposes, he would have to consider what the best approach would be for getting that piece of information from her.
He hunted down Gybbon and told him where Biddy said her other bolt-holes were, not all of them tunnels. It annoyed him that he had missed those places in his work to strengthen Glencullaich’s defenses. Gybbon promised he and the others would leave no stone unturned. The fact that Biddy would try to keep one hidden despite how it could be used against Glencullaich angered him. The woman was far more selfish than anyone had guessed. She might be a bit witless, but she was also cunning and cold. Even the concern for her sisters had not fully deterred Biddy from what was her most important concern—herself.
Deciding he needed to have his questions well planned out when he next visited Biddy, Harcourt chose to exercise his leg a little with a careful stroll around the inside of the wall. He also intended to keep a close eye out for any sign of that bolt-hole Biddy was keeping secret. Every instinct he had told him that it was important to get Glencullaich as tightly sealed and secured as he could, as soon as he could.
War was marching their way. Sir Adam MacQueen had tried to take Annys, tried to get hold of Benet, tried to destroy the village, and had played a long game of trying to make life so miserable many of the people fled. None of those things had gained him the prize he thought he was owed. There really were only two choices left to him—fight to take it or give up. Harcourt did not believe they would be so fortunate as to have the man walk away and leave them alone. That left them with a battle to take Glencullaich. Harcourt just hoped the man would wait until his leg healed completely.